%lv\nQ witb a Xafte. 199 



than the mountain. But for that very reason perhaps, 

 it is more companionable. It does not impress its 

 own mood upon the spirit of man. It rather lends it- 

 self to his temper, and blends with his humour. 

 Stability is the word which defines the soul of the 

 mountain ; flexibility is the characteristic of the lake. 

 Chief of all its charms is an infinite play of lights 

 and shades, hues and shadows, colour in constant flux, 

 subtle blendings of tints in all keys and tones, inces- 

 sant alliances with shore and sky whose issues are rich 

 in all the resources of colour which can be conferred 

 by earth and sky and water itself. The lake has 

 its own individual key-note of colour, which it takes 

 from the rich greens of its wooded shores, mixed to 

 a darker shade in the depths of its own waters. But 

 in that particular key the variations are almost endless. 

 Not a cloud drifting across the sky ; not a breeze 

 rippling the water's surface ; not a change in the 

 angle at which the sunlight falls ; not a variation in 

 the humidity of the air ; not a shift of colour in the 

 foliage in spring or autumn days, — that does not find 

 an instant report and correspondence in the upturned 

 waters. There is no more delicate colour-gauge in 

 all nature. The mountains are responsive to the same 

 influences, but they do not begin to be as subtle, as 

 sensitive, as vivid in the report they render to the 

 eye. 



When you watch the sky as it is reflected on the 

 mountain, you think of the mountain ; when you 

 watch it in the lake you think of the sky. But every 



