My First Summer 



summit ; and sturdy junipers, grand old 

 gray and brown monuments, stood bravely 

 erect on fissured spots here and there, tell- 

 ing storm and avalanche stories of hun- 

 dreds of winters. The view of the lake 

 from the top is, I think, the best of all. 

 There is another rock, more striking in 

 form than this, standing isolated at the head 

 of the lake, but it is not more than half 

 as high. It is a knob or knot of burnished 

 granite, perhaps about a thousand feet high, 

 apparently as flawless and strong in struc- 

 ture as a wave-worn pebble, and probably 

 owes its existence to the superior resistance 

 it offered to the action of the overflowing 

 ice-flood. 



Made sketch of the lake, and sauntered 

 back to camp, my iron-shod shoes clank- 

 ing on the pavements disturbing the chip- 

 munks and birds. After dark went out to 

 the shore, not a breath of air astir, the 

 lake a perfect mirror reflecting the sky 

 and mountains with their stars and trees and 

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