66 AMONG THE WILD FLOWERS 



itself; and so on through its adventurous course till 

 the hills are cleared and the river is in sight. Our 

 road leads us along this stream, across its rude 

 bridges, through dark hemlock and pine woods, 

 under gray, rocky walls, now past a black pool, then 

 within sight or hearing of a foaming rapid or fall, 

 till we strike the outlet of the long level that leads 

 to the lake. In this we launch our boat and paddle 

 slowly upward over its dark surface, now pushing 

 our way through half-submerged treetops, then 

 ducking under the trunk of an overturned tree which 

 bridges the stream and makes a convenient way for 

 the squirrels and wood-mice, or else forcing the boat 

 over it when it is sunk a few inches below the sur- 

 face. We are traversing what was once a continu- 

 ation of the lake; the forest floor is as level as the 

 water and but a few inches above it, even in sum- 

 mer; it sweeps back a half mile or more, densely 

 covered with black ash, red maple, and other de- 

 ciduous trees, to the foot of the rocky hills which 

 shut us in. What glimpses we get, as we steal 

 along, into the heart of the rank, dense, silent 

 woods! I carry in my eye yet the vision I had, on 

 one occasion, of a solitary meadow lily hanging like 

 a fairy bell there at the end of a chance opening, 

 where a ray of sunlight fell full upon it, and brought 

 out its brilliant orange against the dark green 

 background. It appeared to be the only bit of bright 

 color in all the woods. Then the song of a single 



