This is a great
lake of salt water, laving the feet of the mountains, but extending far to the west-southwest, into one of those vast and elevated plateaus of land, which range high above the level of the Pacific.
Our hotel sits at the water's edge--at least its front garden does--and we walk among the shrubbery and smoke at twilight; we look afar off at Switzerland and the Alps, and feel an indolent willingness to look no closer; we go down the steps and swim in the
lake; we take a shapely little boat and sail abroad among the reflections of the stars; lie on the thwarts and listen to the distant laughter, the singing, the soft melody of flutes and guitars that comes floating across the water from pleasuring gondolas; we close the evening with exasperating billiards on one of those same old execrable tables.
Lawrence near Montreal, and by other rivers and portages, to
Lake Nipising,
Lake Huron,
Lake Superior, and thence, by several chains of great and small
lakes, to
Lake Winnipeg,
Lake Athabasca, and the Great Slave
Lake.
At last they cleared the dread Fifty Mile River and came out on
Lake Le Barge.
1851, with Overweg, to visit the kingdom of Adamaoua, to the south of the
lake, and from there he pushed on as far as the town of Yola, a little below nine degrees north latitude.
Then the
Lake said, 'You do well to be afraid, for it is at your peril that you are come hither.
Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder, looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after the assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham Young, his successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt
Lake, where, in the midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the emigrants who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony, thanks to the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond expectations.
On the edge of the
lake we helped von Schoenvorts build his primitive refinery.
I picked up a stone and threw it into the
lake. I watched the circling ripples round the place at which it had sunk.
But when the Night had thrown her pall Upon that spot, as upon all, And the mystic wind went by Murmuring in melody -- Then -- ah then I would awake To the terror of the lone
lake.
Suddenly, Raoul remembered something about a gate opening into the Rue Scribe, an underground passage running straight to the Rue Scribe from the
lake....Yes, Christine had told him about that.
Here we turned away toward the north, skirting the marshes and after several days arriving at what I have called Long
Lake. We spent some time around its upper end, where we found food in plenty; and then, one day, in the forest, we ran foul of the Tree People.