A DAY AT LANA WATER published in The Independent, September 11, 1862, page 6.
A Day at Lana Water. "A thing of beauty is a thing of joy forever."
We sometimes spend a day so fraught with pure enjoyment that over time it stands out in memory lasting as a pyramid.
Such days should be chronicled for our misanthropic hours. Such a day I saw on Aug. 18, 1862 and "part of it I was,"
Would that I could record its incidents with some of the vividness with which they then impressed me. It happened in this wise.
Five gentlemen -- some year's graduates of a Vermont college -- met and celebrated the birthday of their Alma Mater.
Fortune had dealt variously with them since they left their halls. Time had mitigated the black and brown upon some of their heads ; so I noticed when they met they said, in allusion, facetiously, "Powdered to escape the draft, I see."
Under the influence of old associations, rigidity softened to a flow of soul that had something of youthful exuberance, and they said, "Come, let us take our wives and daughters, and for one day, enjoy the light of light as if we were boys again. We will feast together on the mountain-side, beyond Lake Dunmore." And so a choice baker's dozen of us embarked in two mountain-wagons for an eight-miles drive. We passed leisurely by such green pastures, crossed such clear springs of water, wound through such tall woods, as are peculiar to the Green Mountain state. The road was very lonely. We met no one. The houses were few. There seemed none to admire -- but elm-trees stood in those quiet meadows that would set a landscape-gardener crazy with covetousness. They threw their feathery branches aloft, combining lordly growth with airy grace, as nothing but a New England elm knows how to do. Beguiling the way with such sights, we had almost forgot the goal of our pleasure, when, emerging from a thick border of hemlock and arbor-vitre. Lake Dunmore lay before us. Sweet lake ! how impossible for me to portray thy beauty!
Rimmed round by mountains whose verdant sides dropped suddenly into their margin, they lay in a quiet that suggested the primeval silence. The m mountains were not precipitous enough for terror, and the lake was not large enough for solemnity, but here the spirit of beauty had walked, and given to the lake in that noonday sun the peace and grace of a sleeping child -- an infant daughter of Lake George, perhaps ; one islet on her surface suggesting the possible paternity.
At this stage of observation some row-boats were produced for our transit. I don't know who built those boats, nor who owned them, and have no possible interest in advertising them, but they were the first boats I ever saw on salt water or fresh that needed neither bail nor sponge. They conveyed us clean and dry as any coach. Our company was distributed into two boats, and we felt in our very bones the consciousness of how picturesque we looked while our legal boatmen (this was the only profession represented) sped us the two miles across the lake. One lady had the good taste to wear a red jacket, and the gay effect was very noticeable as she sat in the stern of the opposite boat.
It was with a sort of regret that I left the boat and took our march up the mountain, for I already loved the lake, and little dreamed what revelations of beauty were hidden beyond.
Do not deem that I profane the romance of the scene by some details of that walk. I mentioned we were going to a feast. We did not, however, expect to picnic after the manner of the Israelites in the wilderness -- upon food from the clouds ; neither did we suppose a lamb would be miraculously provided for our fire. We were simply common mortals in pursuit of pleasure under a modern dispensation, and we carried our creature comforts with us.
One gentleman, whose researches have been those of an antiquary, rather than in the commissary department, carried in his hand a weighty basket of stores with a cheerfulness and alacrity that declared he felt his dignity in no wise imposed upon. Another, whose deep tones are sometimes heard in our halls of legislation, bore the dinnerplates -- and what is singular, in the hands of a politician, there was no crockery broken! (Nothing was said about McClellan, however).
A third, whose Oriental features and flowing beard gave him the title of Philosopher, carried with gravity and circumspection certain bottles indicative of refreshment. The Benjamin of the company, the beloved John, loaded his arms by the way with kindling wood, and I noticed in this he was assisted by this in his bride, whose wealth of hair gleamed like spun gold upon her sylvan hat, a nd reminded me of some Watteau's Arcadian shepherdess.
Some of the young ladies carried coffee-pots with the air of tragedy queens, proving that it is not what we do in this world, but the manner of doing it, that confers dignity.
I walked beside a sententious-looking spectacled individual, who grasped with much firmness a large brass kettle -- altogether he had the air of a literary gypsy -- a sort of Lavengro. I noticed the blackened sides of the utensil came into frequent contact with the sententious person's pantaloons. Whenever his notice was called to this fact, he replied majestically in the words of Mr. Toots, "It's of no consequence." Perhaps the young lady who afterwards sat beside him at the dinner was of a different opinion.
It was my privilege to carry the hatchet, a symbol of power I did not undervalue, particularly after Benjamin reminded me it was a historical tool, and the only one in whose favor a miracle has been wrought.
I did not for some time discover that we were following a mountain stream whose outlet was the lake, so densely bordered was it with hazel-nuts, wild clematis, and mulberry. The sun was ardent, and we looked toward the shady hemlocks beyond with eagerness ; and when we entered the shade we breathed such refreshment as "the cool cisterns of the midnight air" distill, for we were in a glen the sun could not penetrate.
The rocks rose above us a hundred feet, not perpendicular, but overhanging. Standing enchanted in these cool recesses, we saw above us the brook come springing down the rocks. It gave a leap first of eighty feet into a glassy pool, then spring again with two merry leaps more, suggesting Minnehaha -- Laughing Water.
Prattling and babbling and dancing it came, all unconscious that this was its last play, as it wound its course to the lake that lay "quieted like a weaned child" in the glimpse beyond.
The Antiquary came to my side and gave me a bit of history. Some years ago Gen. Wool was in Vermont. The Antiquary, with a few citizens, (who like him are a credit to the state in general, and the town of Middlebury in particular.) invited Gen. Wool to visit Lake Dunmore, and the excursion was continued as far as these Falls, which hitherto had not undergone the ceremony of baptism.
Gen. Wool having the good taste to be enthusiastic upon the occasion, it was decided to mutually congratulate the General and the Falls by bestowing upon them his name. Here an embarrassment arose. There was nothing suggestive of sheep-washing about the place, though some of the cascades might be said to resemble a snowy fleece -- but Wooly -- Wool -- in all its variations was non-descriptive and non euphonious. In this emergency Gen. Wool's aid-de-camp suggested that, while in Mexico, Gen. Woll was called Lana.
The felicitous idea was embraced. Gen. Wool in due form broke a bottle of wine, and pouring the ruby libation into the crystal water, pronounced it for all time "Lana Falls."
Charmed and full of excitement, we climbed sometimes above and looked down upon these leaping crystals that broke again into spray, then from beneath we stared awe-struck at the beetling cliffs above. The witching beauty of the place fell upon every individual. One could hear expressions like these:
"See, Sybil, how picturesque! -- and that lady from the city of Elms, how statuelike she fits into the rock!"
Oh! for a photographer to catch Sophonisba's face, as, beautiful in self-forgetfulness, she compounds the mysteries of her surpassing coffee! Can't somebody paint Mary's laughing eyes as she stands apron full of ferns and lichens and mosses? I declare! the wearer of the red jacket has achieved the highest summit. Can you believe one so light-footed is the mother of many children? Is there any coquetry in the arch smile of yonder pretty girl, at whose feet the Statesman is sitting? Oh, no! I heard her say she was too young to think of such things! Just now, I thought a sunbeam had strayed into the ravine, but it was a gleam of the Shepherdess's hair. Oh! for a limner to immortalize these groups.
Then I closed my eyes and listened to the falling waters, till I heard voices, and I sighed for a poet to write the song of these Naiads, whose theme is forever Joy--joy--joy! I bent and drank of the dashing spray, saying to myself, "If I could only imbibe the spirit of these water-nymphs it would prove the fountain of eternal youth, for the heart that is truly happy never grows old."
The voices were interrupted by a summons to dinner. Enjoyment became eminently social I have said we did not expect a miraculous repast, but lo and behold ! a table of stone, (unbroken,) large enough to inscribe the whole moral law, and bearing viands, the fragments of which, I should think, would fill twelve baskets. Such a feast! Learning without pedantry, and beauty without coquetry, presided. There was enjoyment without satiety, appetite without excess, wit without wine. Each partaker ate and drank everlasting good-will to his and her neighbor. Now we are separated far and wide, but whenever we meet in the duty side walks of life, we shall recall the bread we broke at Lana Water. If sometimes hereafter, while bearing the heat and burden of the day, we droop and despond, let us remember that Lana Water is gushing yet. Our journey may be over rough and stony roads, our feet may be cut and bleeding, we may thirst under a dry and burning sun, but if we direct our steps thither, we shall attain the Fountain of Living Waters.
"'Twere long to tell" of our twilight sale across Lake Dunmore ; of our return drive under a starry night along the banks of Otter Creek, which lay imbued with the beauties of sky, earth, and water -- such shadows of maples and elms in her surface, such worlds of stars marvelously mirrored in deep recesses under her banks ; of the sings that were sung ; of the things that were said. I know not what perversity seized the Antiquary. It was the only thing I ever knew him to do that was not sensible. He was actuated, perhaps, by a sense of justice. Probably he observed I leans none of my exertions in preparing the feast. I had been neither useful nor ornamental. All day I had only amused myself, except the slight service of carrying the hatchet to cut the wood. Determined there should be no selfish idler in a company where all were active and generous, he gave me my task : "You are hereby appointed the historian of this excursion!" and his smile was very roguish ; but, esteemed friend, the penalty has been a pleasant one!
RODENSE.