Standing in the cross-road that leads by the Mineral Spring, and looking
towards an opposite shore of the lake, an ascending bank, with a douse
border of trees, green, yellow, red, russet, all bright colors,
brightened by the mild brilliancy of the descending sun; it was strange
to recognize the sober old friends of spring and summer in this new
dress. By the by, a pretty riddle or fable might be made out of the
changes in apparel of the familiar trees round a house, adapted for
children. But in the lake, beneath the aforesaid border of trees,--the
water being, not rippled, but its glassy surface somewhat moved and
shaken by the remote agitation of a breeze that was breathing on the
outer lake,--this being in a sort of bay,--in the slightly agitated
mirror, the variegated trees were reflected dreamily and indistinctly; a
broad belt of bright and diversified colors shining in the water beneath.
Sometimes the image of a tree might be almost traced; then nothing but
this sweep of broken rainbow. It was like the recollection of the real
scene in an observer's mind,--a confused radiance.
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