THE LAKE. 
113 
Even in a limited water-view, there is a flow of life, a ceaseless 
variety, which becomes a perpetual source of delight ; eveiy pass- 
ing hour throws over the transparent countenance of the lake, or 
river, some fresh tint of coloring, calls up some new play of ex- 
pression beneath the changing influences of the sun, the winds, 
the clouds, and we are all but cheated into the belief that the 
waters know something of the sorrows and joys of our own heai'ts ; 
we turn to them with more than admiration — with the partiality 
with which we turn to the face of a friend. In the morning, per- 
haps, we beliold the waves charged with the wild power of the 
storm, dark and threatening, and the evening sun of the same 
day finds the flood lulled to rest, calmly reflecting the intelligent 
labors of man, and the sublime works of the Almighty, as though 
in conscious repose. 
Our own highland lake can lay no claim to grandeur ; it has 
no broad expanse, and the mountains about cannot boast of any 
great height, yet there is a harmony in the different parts of 
the picture which gives it much merit, and which must always 
excite a lively feeling of pleasure. The hills are a charming set- 
ting for the lake at their feet, neither so lofty as to belittle the 
sheet of water, nor so low as to be tame and commonplace ; 
there is abundance of wood on their swelhng ridges to give the 
charm of forest scenery, enough of tillage to add the varied in- 
terest of cultivation ; the lake, with its clear, placid waters, lies 
gracefully beneath the movmtains, flowing here into a quiet little 
bay, there skirting a wooded point, filling its ample basin, without 
encroaching on its banks by a rood of marsh or bog. 
And then the village, Avith its buildings and gardens covering 
the level bank to the southward, is charramgly placed, the waters 
