Excerpt from The Yale Literary Magazine, 1849, Vol. 14
I can hardly believe that the lapse of time will blot out that glorious scene from my memory. The deep hush of nature, the setting sun slowly sinking behind the furthermost mountains, lighting up the more elevated parts o... f the landscape; the deep blue over head, while around the western horizon a ¿ood of light shed itself upon the sky and the lake itself, dark and quiet, seemed an emerald set in gold; as if the hues and coloring of some almost forgotten picture, whose image yet lingers on the mind, had been spread out, living, breathing, upon the canvas of the Eternal.
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