THE COMMODORE AND CREW. 307 
is softly breathing over the forest, yet so gently, you barely 
see the movement of the tree tops. Near the shore it is 
perfectly calm, and all a mirror for the rocks and trees. But 
out a piece, where the zephyrs play down from over the trees, 
and first kiss the water, there the pretty change commences. 
Down they go on many light wings, and lightly sweep the 
water for a short way, then rise a little above, leaving it 
smooth as they are above it, soon to dip and rise again; and 
now they are joined with more breezes from on behind, and 
many widen out and dip down together; some catching on, 
keep to the water far down the lake; others to the right and 
left, desert the main current, and rise and fall, and following 
after, dip and skip a little way and end, leaving behind, in 
many spots, tiny, rippling waves that are sparkling in the 
sun, and it strongly reminds us of the very last hour of the 
very last of the thinnest, honeycombed sheets of ice remaining 
of the long winter’s accumulation, floating and dissolving in 
the warm sunshine, at midday, in spring. But now we see 
the great mirrors, all changing, in the lightest of breezes, as 
the many currents of air sweep again over them, ruffling long, 
narrow, and then widened-out stretches, flashing and changing, 
and we compare them to the northern lights. Finally, more 
new wings are added, all join in the gliding waltz; soon 
all is again a ripple and a sparkle, then the little wavelets, 
then the waves. And upon the waves, as they lightly lap the 
shore again, the ‘*lady” is now placed, and we are off. 
Troll, and rly, and bait rod, 
Rifles, axe, and dipper; 
Landing net and brierwood, 
Knife, matches, and tobacco. 
And all aboard for ‘* Bonny Brook.” Out again and over 
