Still-Paddling 61 
dark silent pools, is a very complex person- 
ality, full of surprises and delights. Perhaps 
we cannot fully explore such a lake in the 
course of alifetime. It has not one, but many 
shores, remote from each other. More than 
once I have seen some faint outline in the 
distance, entirely new and unknown to me, 
destined for ever to remain a true terra in- 
cognita; for though I paddled all day, as I 
advanced it receded, and disappeared at 
length. These are the lands of Morning, seen 
only by early light, which gradually fade as 
the day wanes. We set out for them in the 
dawn—in the morning of life—but when by 
afternoon we arrive where they appeared to 
be, they have vanished. 
Chief charm of a mountain lake is this 
changefulness, this show of feeling. In 
rounding a cape or rocky headland, the im- 
aginative explorer comes not only upon a new 
bay, but, it may be, upon a new mood of 
the lake. Always there is a subjective as 
well as an objective stimulus to exploration. 
Mystery dwells in the wilderness and haunts 
its thousand lakes. If you do not feel its 
spell you are not made of the stuff of ex- 
plorers, for no adventurer ever set out to dis- 
cover new lands upon the Polar seas—or an 
