IX. 



FOUKTH SUMMER HOUSE TO BREEZE HILL. 



On the extreme south-westerly peninsula of the 

 Large Lake stands the fourth little Summer House or 

 rustic shelter. It is charmingly set, half hidden by 

 winding ways along whose wanderings the summer 

 leaves whisper delightfully to every breeze that steals 

 in from the Lake. From its ever open windows you 

 can see the noble ridge of Lookout Hill and the sil- 

 vering sheet of the Lake dancing to fresh breezes or 

 perhaps stilled to a half-slumbrous dream, with quiet 

 shadows glassed about the coves or just rippling 

 enough to float across to your eye the dazzling flash 

 of sparkling sun stars shot from the edges of tiny 

 waves. Far over on the large Peninsula the weeping 

 willows drape their vails of green, the miniature 

 yachts careen and bend and sway, weaving and inter- 

 weaving mysterious courses and all about you, as you 

 sit here with your book, the birds call, the insects 

 sing and the breeze sends dancing shadows of leaves 

 to and fro over the floor and over the rustic beams 

 of the shelter. 



But let us start on our ramble. At the left of 

 the Fourth Summer House, as we take the path, 

 stands a pretty young European white birch, and be- 

 yond it a sturdy English cork-bark elm which in early 



