The lake, called Coniston Water, extends to a length of about six miles. It is in no part quite a mile in breadth, but although so narrow never gives the slightest idea of restriction; thus agreeing with Windermere, to which, however, Coniston bears not the least resemblance in detail, differing rather in every particular, and decidedly surpassing it in respect of the wildness and purple sublimity of the surroundings. The immediate borders, by reason of the frequently recurring showers of rain, are refreshingly green all the year round; they allure, also, at every season, by the daintiness and the generosity with which the greater portion has been planted. Beyond the line to which the handiwork of man has been continued, or where the ground becomes steep and rocky, there are brown and heathy slopes, fissures and winding ravines, redolent of light and shade, the sunward parts often laced with little white streamlet waterfalls, that in the distance seem not cascades, but veins of unmelted winter snow. The slopes, in turn, like the arches in a Gothic cathedral, lead the eye upwards to outlines that please so much the more because imperfectly translatable; since when the clouds hover round the summits of these soaring peaks, they change to mystery and fable, wooing the mind with the incomparable charm that always waits upon the margin of the undiscovered. From what particular point the best views, either of the lake or of the adjacent mountains, are readily obtainable, must of necessity be very much a matter of taste. Perhaps it is discreetest to take, in the first instance, the view _up_ the lake, or from Nibthwaite, where the waters contract, and become the little river Crake--the stream which, in conjunction with the Leven from Windermere, forms the estuary named after the latter.