AMONG THE WILD-FLOWERS 17 



feet down rocks to another level stretch, where 

 the water again loiters and suns 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 surface. We are traversing what was once 

 a continuation of the lake; the forest floor is 

 as level as the water and but a few inches 

 above it, even in summer; it sweeps back a 

 half mile or more, densely covered with black 

 ash, red maple, and other deciduous 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 open- 

 ing, 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. 



