The iron skid is attached and our char-a-banc ploughs its way down the pass a few hundred yards, until suddenly the road in front of us seems to go almost perpendicularly over. Soon we are on the brink. The view downward, with the stream away below us in front and an unguarded precipice on our left, strikes terror into the hearts of nervous lady passengers; many of them prefer to alight and walk down this bit. Many of the gentlemen too, with lordly unconcern, express a desire to “stretch their legs” and they also get out and walk! The danger is only fancied, however, for thousands of char-a-bancs and other conveyances come over here every season and no accident, nor anything approaching an accident, has occurred--surely a tribute alike to the care and skill of the drivers, the excellence of their horses and the vigilance of the hotel proprietors, who see that all wheels, harness and other trappings are of the very best, and in perfect order. Thence the pass runs along the valley bottom, with Honister towering above on the one hand and the almost equally bare declivities of Yew Crag on the other--the wildest bit of coach road in the district--until, after passing through a gateway we come quite suddenly upon the gem of the “round,” Buttermere Lake itself. A small sheet of water as regards size, it is nevertheless very imposing. Set deep amongst mountains descending almost sheer into the lake and traversed by gloomy ghylls and water slides, bare of foliage except for a few localized larch and oak trees, which seem to emphasise its quality of sombreness, Buttermere cannot fail to secure a lasting place amongst our memories of Lakeland. From the grand square shoulder of Honister Crag, now seen “end on,” with Great Gable peeping over its flank, followed by High Crags, the massive wedge of High Stile and the cone of Red Pike, to the distant form of Melbreak beyond Crummock Water, the mountain grouping leaves nothing to be desired--not even height or vastness; indeed, these qualities are quite features of Buttermere. Yet the lake is only a little over a mile long and the mountains less than three thousand feet above sea-level! Truly, form, proportion and atmosphere are wonderful deceivers.