soul listen to color
music as thrilling, as enchanting as melodies by Foster and Balfe,
minuets by Mozart and Haydn, arias by Handel, nocturnes and serenades
by Chopin and Schumann, overtures by Rossini, massive choruses
and chorals by Handel, Haydn and Mendelssohn, fugues by Bach, and
concertos by Beethoven.

The blue alone is enough to impress it forever upon the observant
mind. Its rich, deep, perfect splendor is a constant surprise. One
steps from his hotel, not thinking of the Lake--the blue of it rises
through the trees, over the rocks, _everywhere_, with startling
vividness. Surely never before was so large and wonderful a lake of
inky blue, sapphire blue, ultra-marine, amethystine richness spread
out for man's enjoyment. And while the summer months show this in all
its smooth placidity and quietude, there seems to be a deeper blue,
a richer shade take possession of the waves in the fall, or when its
smoothness is rudely dispelled by the storms of winter and spring.

So much for the color!

Yet there are those who are devoted to Lake Tahoe who seldom speak
of the coloring of its waters. Perhaps they are fascinated by its
fishing. This has become as world-famed as its colors. Thousands,
hundreds of thousands, of the most gamey and delicately-flavored trout
are caught here annually, both by experts and amateurs. The Federal
and State governments, and private individuals yearly stock the main
Lake and the hundred and one smaller lakes of the region with the
finest species of trout obtainable, and the results fully justify the
labor and expense.

To the mountain-lover the Tahoe region is an earthly paradise. One
summer I climbed over twenty peaks, each over nine thousand feet
high, and all gave me glimpses of Tahoe. Some of them went up close to
11,000 feet.

Are you an admirer of Alpine, nay, _High Sierran_, trees? You
will find all the well-known, and several rare and entirely new
species in this region. This field alone could well occupy a student,
or a mere amateur tree-lover a whole summer in rambling, climbing,
collecting and studying.

And as for geology--the Grand Canyon of Arizona has afforded me
nature reading material for nearly three decades and I am delighted
by reading it yet. Still I am free to confess the uplift of these
high-sweeping Sierras, upon whose lofty summits

The high-born, beautiful snow comes down,
Silent and soft as the terrible feet
Of Time on the mosse