ould
not force them against the stream. As the tide gradually returns,
however, the level of the ocean rises to the level of the Lake, the
outward flow of water ceases, and there is even a partial inward flow of
the tide which, at its highest, reaches to the Red Rocks. At this state
of the tide, which happens twice in a day and night, vessels can enter
or go forth.

The Irish ships, of which I have spoken, thus come into the Lake,
waiting outside the bar till the tide lifts them over. The Irish ships,
being built to traverse the ocean from their country, are large and
stout and well manned, carrying from thirty to fifty men. The Welsh
ships, which come down from that inlet of the Lake which follows the
ancient course of the Severn, are much smaller and lighter, as not being
required to withstand the heavy seas. They carry but fifteen or twenty
men each, but then they are more numerous. The Irish ships, on account
of their size and draught, in sailing about the sweet waters, cannot
always haul on shore at night, nor follow the course of the ships of
burden between the fringe of islands and the strand.

They have often to stay in the outer and deeper waters; but the Welsh
boats come in easily at all parts of the coast, so that no place is safe
against them. The Welsh have ever been most jealous of the Severn, and
will on no account permit so much as a canoe to enter it. So that
whether it be a narrow creek, or whether there be wide reaches, or what
the shores may be like, we are ignorant. And this is all that is with
certainty known concerning the origin of the inland sea of sweet water,
excluding all that superstition and speculation have advanced, and
setting down nothing but ascertained facts.

A beautiful sea it is, clear as crystal, exquisite to drink, abounding
with fishes of every kind, and adorned with green islands. There is
nothing more lovely in the world than when, upon a calm evening, the sun
goes down across the level and gleaming water, where it is so wide that
the eye can but just distinguish a low and dark cloud, as it were,
resting upon the horizon, or perhaps, looking lengthways, cannot
distinguish any ending to the expanse. Sometimes it is blue, reflecting
the noonday sky; sometimes white from the clouds; again green and dark
as the wind rises and the waves roll.

Storms, indeed, come up with extraordinary swiftness, for which reason
the ships, whenever possible, follow the trade route, as it is ca