Still-Paddling 69 
blue in maturity, are without doubt one of the 
finest products of the Adirondacks, and no- 
where else can they be seen in such profu- 
sion and such beauty. Following the family 
tradition, the berries of the mountain holly 
are solitary in the axils of the leaves, but the 
shrub has a certain thoroughbred aspect, 
while the cherry red of these berries is un- 
surpassed in the woods. On the cliffs and 
at the very border of the pot-holes, closed 
gentians bloom in profusion; under the hem- 
locks is the splendid blue of clintonia berries; 
while in dark and cool places the cardinal- 
flower stands at the water’s edge—a rare and 
solitary spirit. 
Such is the vision—a trailing line of beauty 
—which regales the eye as you paddle silently 
along the shore; silently, for if you are a 
woodsman, the spirit of the wilderness im- 
pels to silence, and the canoe is affected by 
the same spell. To splash with the paddle 
offends the ear like a false note and alarms 
the returning warblers, now flitting in the 
birches whose yellow leaves drift like fleets of 
diminutive canoes upon the still water. 
Autumn, that inexplicable charm which 
every year steals into the wilderness, is in 
the air. Outwardly it is colour; inwardly, a 
