Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1874-08-06
And love, like a flower, dies!
The Fakes fthc Asair0mdaclks.


The Aalkcs Ofthc Asair0nGEacls.
AS | pushed out into the waters Of
the Lower St. Regis, y sense of soil
tudc began to come over me. The
venerable doctor had given me his
blessing as we parted, and I felt it was
good to have it. The morning mist'
disappeared before the sun coming W
in its strength, and the loneliness Of 6
cool day in August; bright, bracing
atmosphere lay around and over me
possessing my veins and filing me
with the rich sensations of high ami
NAL enjoyment This is the luxury Of
living, of simply being a thing with
life, rejoicing in taking a long breath,
shouting, rowing, Or leaping. We do
not know much of this in town. Ger
tainly not in hot weather. 1t marks
the difference in nations, and tells on
character, religion, letters, and art.
1t is climate-not half enough studied
in its bearings upon society and the
progress of the race.
A quarter Of an hour took me across
the lake into the "slew," through
which the guide poled the boat eau
tiously among the fallen trees and
snags into Spiture, a lakelet with a
name that does it justice, and then by
narrow pass into St. Regis Lake, the
upper This is nearly on the summit
Of the lake region, 1900 or 1000 feet
above the sea, its waters flowing off to
the north, and the lakes into which
we are soon to come, dinharging
themselves eastward, and then north
easterly into Lake Champlain.
A sense Of exquisite beauty filled
me as the skif' glided gracefully into
the midst of this lovely sheet Of wat
er. The sun was now we'll up in the
blue, cloudless sky. Many isles lay
around on the bosom of the lake.
They and the shores were covered
with dense pine and spruce trees. The
water was like polished mirror of
steel. The islands were reflected. So
was the heavens above me. Some
times over the forest shores the dis
tant ranges of mountains toldme there
was a world beyond and out of the
limits of the bowl in which I was
floating. But the lake seemed as a
little sea of glass, clear as crystal, bril-
liant in the sun, skirted with living
green, evergreen, and the feeling of
the place was that of perfect isolation
from 'the world and the rest of man
kind
During all the tour of these and
three or four lakes yet to be mention
ed, / did not see a boat Or the face of
a man, or anything to intimate that
one had ever entered this charming
desert before. No voice, no gun, no
bark of a dog in the all-surrounding
forest disturbed the deep serenity of
the scene. Now and then the scream
OF loon, fearfully like that of hui
man cry, would pierce the ear and
increase the stiffness as it ceased. But
for my guide, who happily was stupid
and said nothing, was the only man
there. 1t was a natural paradise, and
l was as solitary as Adam before Eve
appeared. Charles V. said OF the Ca
thedral OF Burgos, such was its beau
ty, it should be put under a glass case
and kept for show. 1t is almost pain
full to me that the loneliness Of this
scene is lost to the world. Why is
such waste of glory here? The SUI
shines on nothing more charming tc
behold. Here it lies, and the summer
dies away into winter; and then the
spring clothes it with resurrection
beauty again. Perhaps the angels SCI
1t. But why was so much glory spill
ed where so few mortals, out of mil
lions, ever see it FL From Under tn
Trees, by Samuel Iren@us Prime.
81 DoN'T CARE If Do."-In Older