In the Serpents* Path. 



JN O month offers less than does March to attract 

 the rambler, and for that reason it is, perhaps, the 

 best month to be out of doors. To see little, and 

 that thoroughly, leaves a more lasting impression 

 than a bewildering multitude of Nature's riches. 

 , Not long since I turned from a wide expanse of 

 wind-tossed waters to an inviting cove, and then, 

 letting the boat drift where it might, I peered into 

 the depths of a forest that reached to the water's 

 edge. One tall, towering pine, blasted by the 

 storms, pierced the upper air, and dark, tapering 

 cedars on either side shut from view the neighbor- 

 ing hills ; while beneath the lesser growth of 

 birches, rhododendron, and tangled shrubs hid the 

 huge rocks among which they grew. The outlook 

 was grand but gloomy. I was both attracted 

 and repelled. Even the shallow waters were 

 black, lifeless, and unfathomable. No rambler, 

 eager for Nature at her best, could have asked for 



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