Article March 29, 1930 Issue

True Reflection

D. EDYTHE GOBEN

It was a quiet midsummer morning along the shore of a beautiful mountain lake, in whose turquoise depths the surrounding grandeur was marvelously reflected. The bright sunshine, the fleecy clouds drifting across an azure sky, the encircling mountains with their snowy crowns, the diamond-pointed glacier ablaze in the brilliant light, the pine forests enshrouded in the majestic dignity of centuries—all were imaged in the calm water.

As the day wore on, threatening clouds shut out the bright sunshine, a chilly wind ruffled the surface of the lake, and by afternoon a summer snowstorm was sweeping through the mountains. Everything seemed disturbed, and the beautiful reflection of the morning had completely vanished.

A party of travelers, hesitating to adventure in any direction lest they lose the way, were forced to wait in the shelter of the mountain inn for the storm to pass before resuming their journey. They were not disturbed, however, by any doubts or fears that the sun would fail to reappear, but were calmly confident that it was still shining above the clouds. hidden from them only by the mist of whirling snowflakes which for the time being blotted out the beauty all about them. They knew that when the waters of the lake became quiet, the beautiful scene would again be perfectly imaged in its depths. Toward evening the clouds gradually thinned, the sun broke through, and the wind subsided. Glancing back as they journeyed down the mountain side, the travelers saw the glistening peaks shining forth even more beautifully than in the morning light, their snowy caps touched with the soft radiance of the setting sun.

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