Camaralzaman and she Badoura, and the genii would carry me to her as
she sat by Knockers' Llyn, or, as she called it, Llyn Coblynau, on
the lower slopes of Snowdon.

But above all, there was the sea on the other side of the wood, of
the presence of which we were always conscious--the sea, of which we
could often catch glimpses between the trees, lending a sense of
freedom and wonder and romance such as no landscape can lend. Our
great difficulty of course was in connection with my lameness. Few
children would have tried to convey a pair of crutches and a lame leg
down the cliff to the long level brown sands that lay, farther than
the eye could reach, stretched beneath miles on miles of brown
crumbling cliffs, whose jagged points and indentations had the kind
of spectral look peculiar to that coast. For, alas! the holy water
Winifred brought did not 'cure the crutches.' Yet we used to master
the difficulty, always selecting the firmer gangway at Flinty Point,
and always waiting, before making the attempt, until there was no one
near to see us toiling down. Once down on the hard sands just below
the Point, we were happy, paddling and enjoying ourselves till the
sunset told us that we must begin our herculean labour of hoisting
the leg and crutches up the gangway back to the wood. I have
performed many athletic feats since my cure, but nothing comparable
to the feat of climbing with crutches up those paths of yielding
sand. Once we found on the sand a newly shot gull. She took it in her
lap and mourned over it. I guessed who was the poor bird's
murderer--her father!

We knew Nature in all her moods. In every aspect we found the sea,
the wood, and the meadows happy and beautiful--in winter as in
summer, in storm as in sunshine. In the foggy days of November, in