The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1852-09-01

me. There was no other visitor at
the lonely hotel, and when the wheels
were out of hearing, | felt, for the first
time in month, the luxury of solitude.
The sails filled and away we shot
from the shore, the beautiful shallop
stcalng through the water as if, like
the boat of the Witch Of Atlas, some
fairy influence
"had lit
A living spirit within all its frame,
Breathing the soul of swiftness into IT,
sat between the fair skipper and
her father, in dream of bewilderment.
Their manner put me perfect It case,
and the conversation went on as SWIM
mingly as the keel, every topic height
cncd and freshened ioexpressibly by
the mystery of the acquaintance.
There was no danger of betrayal
even of name, for they called each
other by the familiar appellation, and
e Constance" and " Arthur" and
* Papa soon became as used to my
ears as if had known them intimate
| ly from my boyhood.
think am in " for a dcscrip-
ton. | don't very well see how |
can let you off without it. If | were
to report the gay conversation around
the tiller, it would not be at all the
same thing as the sweet toned baga-
tclle of a voice like disguised en-
chanters. and as | forget everything
| said myself, and onl y remember here
aud there an observation of Mr.. Ar
thur and his venerable father, there
would be a precious probability that
two-thirds of the dialogue would be
clear fancy-a quality | wish partic-
ularly to avoid in this narration. A
description of the lake will both exc
out the story and save me from the
dilemma. You shall have it.
Zmprimis-it is the most beautiful
lake in Amcrica-and, seqaitnr, the
most beautiful spot in the world. Its
thirty miles of length are more like a
river than lake-a river with noun
tain banks, It's bosom studded with
small green islands covered with the
most lavish ycrdure and foliage, and
its waters as clear and transparent
almost as the atmosphere. You may
see the long heavy pickercl moving
drowsily about on the bottom at the
depth Of thirty feet, and the shoals Of
smaller fish scudding across your bow,
and count the rocks and white crystals
with which the lake abounds, as dis
tinctly as if TIE element were not va
ter, but air. Then the wooded shores
arc so near and so bold, and the Is
lands are so many and so buried in
leaves, that as your boat runs through
the narrow channels, it seems to you
as if you were floating among clouds,
the shadows in the water Of rock and
tree and outline are such faultless re-
semblances. Like Wordsworth's swan,
every gem Of an island
Floats double isle and shadow;
and as you put out from the little pier
at Caldwell (the place of the hotel at
the south end of the lake) and pull
away with a couple Of smart oars for
the north, islct after islet, not much
larger than a parlor ottoman, steals
out to your view, and so you may yoy.
age on, hours and hours, scattering at
every dip, almost, some fairy shore,
till your mind absolutely becomes sur
feited with beauty. And with these
general features | leave the rest to
your imagination.
The breeze died away in the middle
of the forenoon, and left us with our
sails tapping against the mast, oppo-
site a small island, fringed with beech
es, and carpeted with short rich grass
| and moss, tie prettiest flower for fairy
feet in the world. At the bidding o.
4 our fairy helmsman, took an oar witt
Arthur, and three or four fair pulls
J brought us alongside, and covered the
boat with the oycrhanging branches
: The shade was deep and cool, and we
{ spread the contents of a certain am
5 biguous looking hamper upon the
t cloth, and setting bottles of claret and
| champagne down by a rock in the wa
t ter, prepared to picnic in the mos
rural insoaciance. Oh those three ol
0 four or five hours-I don't know how
| long-they flew like hours in para
Il disc l was happier than | could cx
pect to be again. And that supcrl
creaturc-perfectly frank, and hal
gay, half thoughtful-now running t.
c the shore-edge for ahower, now notn!
d some exquisite effect of light or shad
=. ow-laughing, moralizing, quoting po
c etry and glancing at sentiment-ey
i erything unstudied and everything i
t, taste-she was enough to ruin Who'll
It academy Of cynics.
e We dined at the primitive hour O
IS twelve, and spent the afternoon i
g reading and lounging, and at eight
If just as the moon was rising, We en-
u barked, and on perfectly CLASSY SUI
3 face, rowed slowly back to Caldwell
/ our lovely skipper grown little pen
d seroso, and mingling passages of song
> with low-toned, beautiful conversation
more interesting and bewilching wit
1t every change Of her humor.
,r We touched the pier. They locke
4 at me with a smile. l was abol