11. 



THE NAMELESS CREEK. 



\ T A^as five o'clock in the afternoon when, aftei 

 J- three hours of constant struggle with the cur- 

 rent, we burst our way througli a mass of alder- 

 bushes and marsh-grass, and beliuld, tlie lake lay 

 before us ! Wet from head to foot, panting from 

 my recent exertion, having eaten nothing since 

 seven in the morning, and weary from ten hours' 

 steady toil, I felt neitlier weariness nor hunger as 

 I gazed upon the scene. Shut in on all sides by 

 mountains, mirrored from Ijase to summit in its 

 placid bosom, bordered here with fresh green 

 grass and there with reaches of golden sand, and 

 again with patches of liHes, whose fragrance,mingled 

 with the scent of balsam and pine, filled the air, 

 the lake reposed unruffled and serene. 



I know of nothing wliich carries the mind so far 

 back toward the creative period as to stand on the 

 shore of such a sheet of water, knowing that as you 

 behold it, so has it been for ages. The water 

 \i hich laves your feet is the same as that which 

 flowed when the springs wliich feed it were first 

 uncapped. No rude axe has smitten- the forests 



