A SUMMER DRIVE IN THE LAKE COUNTRY. 223 
ville it is like a mountain brook, some of the way dash- 
ing down declivities among the rocks, and then again 
flowing gently through fertile fiells. At Portage it 
enters a deep and rocky gorge, then within a few miles 
leaps three noted falls ; from these falls to Mount Mor- 
ris the stream lies deep in a wooded and rocky canon, 
and for miles its waters are inaccessible from either 
shore. At Mount Morris it again emerges into an open 
country and flows quietly through the richest valley of 
the State, till reaching Rochester it tumbles over 
rapids and down the upper and lower falls and enters a 
fivemile gorge, which for picturesqueness is a minia- 
ture of the lower Niagara. 
Silver Lake is well named, as the contour of the sur- 
rounding hills is such as to give its waters a peculiarly 
silver appearance in the sunlight, and its surface is 
often entirely unruffled. What a travesty on this 
peaceful lake to make it the home of the monster ser- 
pent, which for a season was the “seven days’ wonder ” 
of the world. I remember one New York reporter 
wrote of this harmless, manufactured automaton: 
“Each morning and evening this water-devil can be 
seen lashing the waters into such a fury that for rods 
away they become a seething, boiling cauldron of fiery 
foam.” The Walker House, in the grove, is an excel- 
lent hotel, and is presided over by a genial host and 
hostess. The long, deep piazza, overhung with vines, 
and overlooking the lake, is an inviting place to while 
away the hot summer days, and many who have 
enjoyed it for a brief time this season have booked it 
