sunlight. The hills became more rugged as we wound our way among
them. Farmers were loading hay in the meadows, through which
streams glistened as they slipped over their sinuous stone-
strewn bottoms. Groups of cattle stood knee-deep in the meadow
brooks, or rested beneath the shade of elms and willows. In the
center of the picture, disclosing its bends and reaches, Ausable
river flowed on its way to Lake Champlain. In places its waters
were almost hidden by grape vines that clambered and twisted
around bush and tree, forming "Laocoon groups" in which they
were hopelessly intertwined.

Far beyond the valley sharp summits and irregular ridges printed
their bold outlines on the sky. Nearer were farms, groves, and
hills, with now and then a placid lake which caught the color of
the sky and mirrored it back to us. But our eyes were fastened
upon the grand summits and pinnacles that rose dreamy and silent
through the summer haze, beckoning us on to those enchanted
realms we were soon to behold. Old White Face reared his
colossal pyramid above the woods and waved his dull white banner
from afar. Soon we entered higher hills, where giant maples
threw their cooling shadows across the road and a faint breeze
made the balsam boughs breathe and sigh. The road became more
sinuous and the hills more grand and imposing. Over the notched
summits of the clustered peaks the outlines of thunder heads,
luminous and edged with gold, appeared through the blue haze.

At length a broad summit rising against another one still
taller, broke suddenly above the foliage where the amber colored
falls of Ausable river saluted us. We were in the midst of one
of the finest pieces of natural scenery in the eastern United