The first boat trip around the lake in Spring has, for those of us familiar with the lake from of old, a twofold interest. Three is the renewed contact with scenes wistfully remembered at quiet moments through the long winter; there is the curiosity concerning how the rim has weathered the winter storms and the tug and thrust of ice and snow.

Observations made on the boat trip of July, the first, would indicate that the past winter produced relatively few changes in the features of the rim. However, at a spot precisely halfway between Palisade Point and the Palisades, a new scar in the out-jutting lava bore witness that a large mass of rock had split off and fallen away to the lake. Huge freshly-broken fragments, mixed with splintery remnants of tree trunks, lie scattered along the shore-line.

Thus goes on record another skirmish in the battle of the rim against the forces of weather and erosion.

That which seemed strong as Time lies broken here,
A fearful discord of tempestuous stone;
And o'er that field still linger, sharp and clear,
The echoes of the wild earth-bugle blown.