THE PLACES in our country that are increasingly becoming known from their picturesque attractions are greater every year, and we hope soon to say greater in the number of those that are being preserved and cared for. Among those of which it can now be said, Lake Mohonk is conspicuous. For nearly half a century it has been visited by artists, whose admired pictures have been but a faint reflex of the beauty perfect picture among the lofty hills of Ulster county, New York.

At some far and ancient period of time the top of the highest of the Shawangunk mountains, nearly two thousand feet high, was cleft in twain by the unknown forces of nature, and for half a mile this deep and wondrous basin became filled with water, now as clear and green as the ocean, and like it, even in its isolation, the home of many fish. This is Lake Mohonk, said to signify in the language of the Indian "On the great sky top".

Travelers tell us that nowhere east of the ere rocks that will at seen here, and no one these will ever question a quartz conglomerate, and from the impercep-nary forces of nature helped to a realization when they were riven and sliced, or piled and tossed into the grand and inspiring positions we now enjoy, apparently with the ease of a wave rolling the pebbles on a seashore. Covered with black and dark brown lichens, whose upper surfaces become an olive green when soaked with rain or dew, they would be enough to absorb our attention were it not diverted by the tall pines and hemlocks springing from their bases, and even growing from their tops and sides with no soil to support them that our eyes can discover. What the Japanese practice as an art is here done by nature. In places where investigation has proved there is no soil, a wind-driven seed from a pine tree has found an opening large enough to lodge. True to its hardy nature, in response only to the moisture of the rock and the sunshine of some long-past spring, it started into life, sending its first tiny green needles to rejoice in the sunshine and little tap root to cling to the rock it could not penetrate.

Unable to flourish like its brothers in the neighboring forest, and rear aloft a massive head of evergreen branches upon a tall columnar trunk, it made the most of all its opportunities, and became in miniature a counterpart of its gigantic relatives around. Most of these have fallen by time, winds or the axes of man, but the sturdy dwarfs defy the fury of storms, present no attractions to lumbermen or wood-choppers, and their strongholds of rocks protect them from the all-destroying forest fires, to delight our eyes and perfume the rarified air with their delicate balsamic scent. Decades and perhaps centuries, botanists tell us, have been spent by these little trees in perfecting their pigmy growths, perfect in trunk and branches. He who would attempt their cultivation must live as long as did the patriarchs of old to enjoy the fruits of his skill, or be willing to plant for bis children's grandchildren in their old age. Laurels and birches festoon the sides of the cliffs. Ferns and mosses carpet the shady depths of the deep fissures and rents among the enormous rocks. We can imagine when the laurels are in bloom that they present a scene unrivalled for pink and white beauty, with such a setting of rocky backgrounds and canopy of forest leaves and mountain skies.

The alpine plants that abound are an all season's delight to the botanist, and furnish innumerable examples of good arrangement to those interested in rock gardens - suggestions without number. We may copy the effects, but our handiwork cannot attain what the hand of nature has been ages in accomplishing. Servile imitations will be so inferior as to invite failure, but we can adapt our materials as well as our limited resources will allow. One of the lessons to be learned here is how many natural materials may be employed in picturesque gardening other than the beds and walks and plants, that too many think are the bounds of the art. Take some of the walks, for instance.

The Tower on Guyot's Hill, Lake Mohonk.

Perhaps we start off over a gravel walk or drive made as hard and compact as that about any residence, yet being near the hotel or on a much frequented line of travel the necessity is apparent, and they are not obtrusive even with their primeval surroundings. In fact, none exist without a reason for their existence, and in all the work here use is made of the materials near at hand, and they do not force themselves upon us in the unpleasant manner foreign matter would have done. Fortunately, good materials seem abundant, but the labor of conveying them where wanted in this mountainous region must be tried to be appreciated. Rocks were removed, mires filled in, and the whole covered with gravel or broken slate, which packs down and drains well, a feature especially desirable when there are heavy mountain rains soon followed by sunshine. If the roads are not perfect in all places, let us be glad of what has been done; and where else can upwards of thirty-five miles of private road be found upon any one estate, rough or level ? Long drives have been constructed on both sides of the mountains.

Sometimes they wind along the cool top or high side of the mountain a thousand feet, or even half as much again, above the level of the earth, then plunge into the primitive forest, crossing brawl-ing streams or following their banks, now curving along the slopes of green hills where cattle pasture, again passing cultivated fields or passing under beetling cliffs, where the grandest rocks are massed in an endless and ever-varying confusion. The walks are worthy of particular study. None of them are without an object. Filled with curves, they do not zigzag aimlessly. Perhaps we step from the pounded slate to take advantage of the smooth surface of some grand stone left by nature, finer and larger than the best in the pavements of the metropolis, smooth from glacial action as if done by the lapidary ; or we may turn aside to avoid some huge boulder that fills the direct way, stopping to admire the quartz conglomerate that constitutes its substance or the mosses that clothe the damp and shady portions and the ferns that fringe its base. We may follow the path where it leads along a precipice, protected by railings for those who may be dizzy, or goes to some point where one of the ever-varying mountain views is to be enjoyed.

Here we will doubtless find one of the many summer bouses provided for rest and shelter. These are so numerous, unique and characteristic of the place that we must speak of them particularly again. Often a chasm between the rocks crosses the paths, but a firm rustic bridge delights us, and we enjoy a better sight of the fissure than if we toiled over the hot way leading down and around it. So numerous are these in one of the paths to "Sky Top," where the mountain is parted as if in gigantic slices, that we have an experience unequalled elsewhere. Not always do the paths lead overground, but in some places under it. The Great Crevice, 150 feet deep, is not only crossed by bridges, but has a path through it. The underground paths are more popular with the men than with the ladies, but few of either sex regret the trouble and exertion they demand, so grand and inspiring are they to those strong enough to take them. They are free from the desolation and depression so frequent among rocky scenes, but all rock-work seems puny after beholding this. The paths around the lake teach us that grand and distant views, perfect as they may be, are not essential to the most enjoyable walk.

A wall of natural rock on one side and deep and placid sheet of water on the other seem no less perfect in their way. But we are so much indebted to the path that enables us to take it all in that we must not forget to observe how unobtrusively art enables us to enjoy nature at her and our best. Also can we by its aid enjoy the bracing air and unequalled view from " Sky Top " tower, see the rivers, towns, plains and mountains of six different states. The Berkshire hills of Massachusetts do not bide the dim and distant mountains of Vermont, and beyond the Neversink mountains are those of Pike county, Pa. Over the fertile valley of Duchess county the Connecticut hills appear, and looking across the counties of Orange and Ulster a portion of New Jersey can be seen.

The Stairs among the Rocks.

John De Wolf.