It was as
if the soul of the quiet lake spoke to us; the spirit that
haunts high mountains, clear lakes, shadowy forests, and all
that is pure and beautiful in life; its hopes, longings and
faith were voiced in that mellow "angelus" of the forest.
We would love to see the twilight linger, but all things must
end, and we pursued our way down the winding shore road, already
gray with the coming night. Before we said good-night the mister
said, "I wonder what eternity will be like?" His comrade spoke
with a clearness of speech, declaring a truth that no one could
doubt: "Eternity is here and now, and this is our first glimpse
into paradise."
Long after retiring the words of George Herbert came and went
through memory:
"Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright
The bridal of the earth and sky,
The dews shall weep thy fall tonight;
For thou must die.
Sweet rose! whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye;
Thy root is ever in the grave
And thou must die.
Sweet spring! full of sweet days and roses;
A box where sweets compacted lie;
My music shows you have your closes
And all must die.
Only a great and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber, never gives;
But, though the whole world turns to coal
Then chiefly lives."
CHAPTER XIII
THE ADIRONDACKS
Whoever passes through the Green mountains and arrives at
Burlington in the evening of a fair day will he rewarded by one
of the most beautiful views of natural scenery the world has to
offer. The outlook from the hilltop here is enchanting. Looking
westward you see the beautiful expanse of Lake Champlain, dotted
with numerous islands that stretch away to the purple wall of
the Adirondacks, whose summits are outlined by a bright golden
light which slowly ascends and diffuses along the horizon as if
striving to linger around the loveliness below. The sun
disappears, leaving an ocean of flame where he passes, and the
fleecy clouds which swim in the ether look down at their images
in the lake. Here you behold the Green mountains, showing
majestically against the sky. They are clothed in soft blue
veils, as lovely as any that Italian mountains can boast. The
highest peaks of the range, Mount Mansfield and Camel's Hump,
thrust their outlines like purple silhouettes against their
glowing background.
William Dean Howells, standing with a friend on the shore of the
Bay of Naples, remarked that he considered one scene in the
world more beautiful than that upon which they were gazing - Lake
Champlain and the Adirondacks, as seen from Burlington.
Morning came bright and clear; a cool breeze waved the clinging
foliage of birch and elm, rippling the lake near the shore and
tossing the waves far out on its bosom, which gleamed white
along their crests.
