If I remember rightly, most of the lake poets went off their heads; when I gaze around me I must admit that I am not surprised." Stafford laughed absently; he was quite accustomed to Howard's cynical vein.
"They're all right enough," he said.

"That is, I suppose they are, for I never read any of 'em since I left school.

Oh, yes, they're right enough about the beauty of the place; you should see it on a fine day." "Has anyone seen it on a fine day ?" inquired Howard, with the innocent air of one simply seeking information.

"I asked a countryman in the train if it always rained here, and he replied, 'No; it sometimes snows.'" "That's a chestnut," remarked Stafford, with a laugh.

"But it's all nonsense about its always being wet here; they tell me it's fine for weeks together; that you can never tell any instant whether it's going to clear up or not; that the weather will change like a woman--Good heavens, look at that!" He nodded to the east as he spoke.
Unnoticed by them, the sky had been clearing gradually, the mists sweeping, dissolving, away; a breath of wind now wafted them, like a veil thrown aside, from hill and valley and lake, and a scene of unparalleled beauty lay revealed beneath them.