"I will lift up mine eyes to the
hills from whence cometh my help," chants the psalmist.
Wandering among these glorious hills that rise above the distant
horizon, or stretch away in endless majesty from you, as your
heart swells over the thrilling scene, you too shall feel the
presence of a great and mighty power, and realize in part what
the psalmist meant.
We passed through the town of Schroon Lake, situated along a
picturesque sheet of water bearing the same name, which lies to
the west of Kayaderrossera range. It has been compared by some
to Lake Como. On one side a bold mountain rears its green wall,
while the shores slope down to it as if eager to behold their
lovely forms in its crystal water. In places it is very narrow
and its windings seem more like a great river than a lake. It is
fed by Schroon river, along which are Schroon falls. Numerous
tents peeped from their guarding trees along its banks. How we
rejoiced in the refreshing shade of the forests and vistas,
revealing this "gleaming pearl set in emeralds," as some one has
appropriately called it. Its water is very pure and cold, and
fishermen will find ample compensation for all the time they
spend here, even though few fish are caught. Its crystal waters
are dotted with green islands.
The name Schroon was given this lake by the early French
settlers at Crown Point in honor of Madam Scarron, the widow of
a celebrated French dramatist and novelist, Paul Scarron. Along
the margin of this lake we saw a Sunday-school teacher who had
brought his class of boys for an outing. What lessons these
growing lads will imbibe from the beauty of Nature around them.
How can they help but think of the Creator when they dwell so
near the primal source of life. The crystal waters of the lake
will teach them purity, the leaves of the trees will rustle
messages of self-denial, and the majestic mountains will speak
to them of endurance and courage, a religion which dwells in
Nature until they, "like Moses, will see in the bushes the
radiant Deity and know they are treading on holy ground."
Wonderfully rich in lakes is this charming mountain region. No
other country is blessed with greater numbers of lovely lakes
than North America. Lake Placid, Echo, Loon, and a host of
others were encircled by green hills with sturdy evergreens,
graceful elms and scattered tents that framed them pleasantly.
Here amidst such sylvan beauty, where the air is rife with the
fragrance of birch and balsam, as you gaze at the Adirondacks
that lift their startling cliffs into the air, or farther along
the horizon stand bathed in a radiant glow, while a gold tangle
of sunset glitters among the white birch trees or casts a soft
sheen like the tints on a mourning dove's neck - pray tell me,
have you ever seen anything fairer than your own placid lakes?
