Neither has
anyone caught those ethereal blues or royal purples that the
soft semi-light of evening makes upon its bosom where the darker
mountains seem to be floating.
But this lake requires not the aid of morning or evening to make
it fair. When the rays of the sun sprinkle the trees along its
sides like golden rain, or while stirred with darkening ripples
beneath a clouded sky, it is clothed in grandest beauty.
But if it were indeed possible for any lake to be fairer than
this, surely Lake George is that one. No wonder artists flock to
its shores, for what picturesque combinations of cove and cliff
they find there! Then, too, what lovely reaches, what mountain
views, what rich and varied combinations of forest with
retreating slopes bathed in the tender purple of distance!
The valleys were covered with a silvery, shimmering atmosphere,
on which we traced the outlines of meadows, forests, and lakes,
like the first sketching of an artist picture that ere long,
under our good genius the automobile, would grow into reality.
The road that wound among forest crowned hills was one of the
most pleasant we remember. The air was filled with silvery haze,
which made distance mysterious; and grain fields and the nearer
hills, touched with the rarest delicacy of tone and softly
blended color, were dreamy and full of suggestion of Indian
summer.
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