114 East and West 
how grim and unfeeling the setting, water is 
ever alive, ever the medium of expression. 
No matter how dull the day, the lake is re- 
sponsive and tells us through our eyes that 
which were otherwise incommunicable. By 
reason of this responsiveness we are drawn 
to it for companionship, for that silent 
interchange of thought. They who dwell 
among the lakes and hills have this more 
perfect society in Nature; and if Nature is to 
us gracious and hospitable in the fields and 
vineyards, she is even more our friend where- 
in she appeals to that less easily satisfied 
part of us which is solaced only with those 
subtle and fleeting moods communicated by 
the changeful light on the hills and on the 
sensitive face of the waters. 
They are not high hills which here befriend 
us on the shores of Canandaigua—not so 
much imposing as lovable. Gannett’s Hill, 
the highest point, is twenty-two hundred 
feet above the sea, but fifteen hundred feet 
gives a bold sweep down to the water. 
The topography is simple and of few lines: 
rounded summits and fairly steep slopes 
lacking all angularity—a shale formation. 
Nor is the lake so very large, but of that size 
rather which, more than any vast expanse 
