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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7761eaa --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66269 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66269) diff --git a/old/66269-0.txt b/old/66269-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1e55759..0000000 --- a/old/66269-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6768 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of At the North of Bearcamp Water, by Frank -Bolles - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: At the North of Bearcamp Water - Chronicles of a Stroller in New England from July to December - -Author: Frank Bolles - -Release Date: September 11, 2021 [eBook #66269] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Steve Mattern, Stephen Hutcheson, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER *** - - [Illustration: MOUNT CHOCORUA IN WINTER] - - - - - _Visitor’s Edition_ - - - - - AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER - - - Chronicles of a Stroller - in New England - from July to December - - - BY - FRANK BOLLES - - _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_ - - [Illustration: Riverside Press] - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - _The Riverside Press_ Cambridge - - COPYRIGHT, 1893, BY FRANK BOLLES - COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - A Thunderstorm in the Forest 1 - The Heart of the Mountain 10 - A Lonely Lake 27 - Following a Lost Trail 43 - A Night Alone on Chocorua 62 - Bringing Home the Bear 82 - The Dead Tree’s Day 96 - Migration 118 - Trapping Gnomes 132 - Old Shag 146 - My Heart’s in the Highlands 157 - The Vintage of the Leaves 168 - Chocorua in November 194 - Among the Wind-Swept Lakes 211 - ’Lection Day, ’92 219 - A Wintry Wilderness 230 - Climbing Bear Mountain in the Snow 243 - In the Paugus Woods 252 - At the Foot of Passaconaway 264 - Christmas at Sabba Day Falls 273 - Down the Torrent’s Pathway 285 - Index 295 - - - - - _Invitation_ - - - To drink the wine of mountain air - Beside the Bearcamp Water. - Whittier, _Among the Hills_. - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - Mount Chocorua in Winter _Frontispiece_ - Water-Lilies in Chocorua Lake 16 - Chocorua from Heron Pond 28 - Canoe Birches of the Bearcamp Valley 40 - The Peak of Chocorua from the Hammond Trail 64 - “The Cow” 68 - The Peak from the Southeast 72 - The Peak from the North 76 - View from “the Cow,” showing Moat Mountain and Mount Pequawket - Beyond 80 - The Dead Tree 98 - Mount Chocorua and Chocorua Lake in Summer 118 - Two Kinds of Gnomes—Hesperomys and Zapus 138 - Paugus from Wonalancet Road 146 - Chocorua seen from the Side of Paugus 150 - Whiteface and Passaconaway from Paugus 154 - Crowlands, formerly the Old Doe Farm 158 - Twilight on the Lake 174 - Chocorua and Dr. Chadwick’s Pines 184 - The Peak of Chocorua from Bald Mountain 206 - Mount Chocorua from Whitton Pond 216 - “Moat, like a breaking wave” 232 - Mount Chocorua and the Lake in Winter 250 - Frost-covered Spruce near the Summit of Passaconaway 262 - Moat Mountain and the Swift River 290 - - - - - AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER. - - - - - A THUNDERSTORM IN THE FOREST. - - -During nearly the whole of the forenoon of July 3, 1892, a soft rain had -been falling. It had begun in the night to the discomfiture of the -whippoorwills, but not to the extinguishment of their voices. It -continued until nearly noon, when the wind shifted from east to west, -patches of blue sky appeared, and ever and anon gleams of sunlight fell -upon the distant forest across the lake, or slid slowly over the -tree-tops on the side of Chocorua. Bird voices grew stronger with the -promise of fair weather. Hermit thrushes, veeries, red-eyed vireos, and -Maryland yellow-throats sang four invitations from as many points of the -compass, and I said Yes to the veeries and sought the swamp. A New -Hampshire swamp is full of attractions at all seasons. In winter the -great northern hares make innumerable paths across its soft snow, and -tempt the gunner into the chilly gloom in search of a shot at their -phantom forms. In spring a host of migrating warblers makes merry in its -tree-tops, and the song of the winter wren is sent from heaven to give -joy to its shadows. Summer brings to it many a shy orchid blooming among -the ferns, and the fisherman finds the trout in its brook’s placid pools -long after they have ceased to bite well in the upper reaches of the -stream. There are no venomous serpents hanging from its moss-grown -trees, no tigers concealed in its brakes, and no ague lingering in its -stagnant pools. It is a safe swamp and kind, yet none the less a swamp. - -When I reached its borders, after crossing the meadow, I found wild -roses in bloom. It was of these, doubtless, that the veery was singing -so bewitchingly. Certainly nothing less fair could have prompted such -magic music. Moreover, the veery’s nest, framed in nodding osmundas, is -near these beautiful blossoms, with many a pool and thicket between it -and hard ground. Passing into the darkness of the swamp, I glanced back -at the sky. The north and west were filled with black clouds which were -stirred by passionate winds in their midst. A low growl of thunder came -through the heavy air. I felt as though forbidden to enter the mysteries -of the swamp, as though warned that danger lay within those aisles of -twilight. The veery ceased its song. No bird voice broke the stillness -of the gloom, and a hush of expectation held every leaf motionless. The -branches closed behind me and I stole on between lofty trees with mossy -trunks, over fallen logs, and through the dripping jungle of ferns. -Upland woods are cleaner, stronger, more symmetrical than swamp growth, -but they have not the effect of tropical luxuriance which the swamp -forest possesses. The mosses, lichens, ferns of many species, climbing -vines, and such large-leaved plants as the veratrum and skunk cabbage, -give to the moist land an air of wealth of leaf-growth which is -distinctive. - -Two species of orchid were conspicuous, rising just above the ferns. -They were the purple-fringed, just coming into bloom, and the white, -which was abundant. Splashing back and forth through the shallow pools, -gathering the spikes of the white orchis, I did not at first notice a -distant sound which grew in volume until its sullen vibration could not -be ignored. The tree-tops above me gave a sudden, vicious swish. Crows -to the westward were cawing wildly. The roar of the storm became -unmistakable; the swamp grew darker; a few big drops of rain fell, and -then, as though a train were plunging down noisy rails upon the forest, -the rain and wind leaped upon the trees, filling the air with deafening -sounds, and twisting the branches until it seemed as though the whole -structure of the woods was about to collapse in one vast ruin. Then -through the tormented tree-tops the floods fell. They were white like -snow, and seemed to be a fallen part of a white sky which showed now and -then as the forest swayed back and forth in the wind’s arms. Wet as the -swamp had been before, its colors became more vivid under this deluge. -Every leaf grew greener, and each lichen gave out new tints as it drank -in rain. The trunks of the trees assumed more distinctive shades; that -of the ash became brown, of the yellow birch almost like saffron, and of -the canoe birch glistening white. The rain pelting into my eyes bade me -look less at the sky and more at the beauties at my feet. Beauties there -surely were at my feet, both of color and form. There were no flowers, -but the leaves were enough to satisfy both eye and mind,—large leaves -and small, coarse and delicate, strong and feeble, stiff and drooping. -Some were long and slender, others deeply cleft, some round, or smoothly -oval, others shaped like arrow-heads. Some received the rain -submissively and bowed more and more before it, others responded -buoyantly as each drop struck them and was tossed off. In some the -up-and-down motion communicated by the falling drop was by the formation -of the leaf-stalk transformed at once into an odd vibration from side to -side, which was like an indignant shaking of the head. - -Looking at the marvelous variety in the outlines of these gleaming -leaves, I suddenly found my memory tugging me back to the schoolroom -where I was first taught botany. I recalled one melancholy morning when -my teacher, who knew neither the derivation of botanical terms nor the -true beauties of botanical science, ordered me to commit to memory the -list of adjectives applied to the various shapes of leaves. The dose -prejudiced me against botany for full ten years of my life, yet here in -this glistening carpet of the swamp I saw “lanceolate,” “auriculate,” -“cordate,” “pinnate,” written, not in letters of gold, but in something -equally impressive to the memory, and much more easy for a dull teacher -to obtain. - -When one is in the deep woods and a flash of lightning comes, the eye -seems to see a narrow horizontal belt of light play swiftly across the -foliage immediately in the line of vision. If I looked at the ground I -caught it there; if my eyes were fixed on the low branches at a -distance, the flash was there. Each flash was promptly followed by the -glorious mountain thunder which is so much more impressive than that in -level regions. At first heaven was rent by the sound; then mountain -after mountain seemed to fall in noisy ruin, the great ledges tumbling -in upon each other with deafening shocks; then the sound rolled away -through the sky, striking here and there upon some cloudy promontory and -giving out a softened boom or waning rumble. - -For full twenty minutes the trees writhed in the wind, the rain fell, -the leaves nodded and shivered under the drops, and the rhythmic roar of -the rain was broken irregularly by the thunder. As time passed, the -shower slackened, the thunder followed the lightning at longer and -longer intervals, the wind seemed to take deeper and less nervous -breaths, and I listened to discover what creature of the swamp would -first raise its voice above the subsiding storm. A mosquito hovered -before me, dodging the drops in its vibratory flight. If it was buzzing -I could not hear it. Suddenly a single call from a blue jay came, in a -lull of the wind, from a thicket of spruces. “Yoly-’oly,” it said, and -was silent again. I took a few steps forward, and the shrill alarm-note -of a chipmunk sounded through the gloom. I strolled slowly through the -drenched and dripping woods fragrant with the perfume of moss and mould. -It was more like wading than walking, for every leaf had a drop of cold -water ready to give away to whatever first touched it. A ray of sunlight -dodged through the lifting clouds and fell into the swamp. The song of a -parula warbler, distilled by it, floated back skyward. As the west grew -golden and blue, bird-songs sounded from every quarter. The merry -chickadees, conversational vireos, and querulous wood pewees vied with -each other and the tree-toads in replacing the orchestral passion of the -storm by the simple music of their solos. - -Leaving the swamp, I climbed the terrace marking the ancient border of -the lake, which once included the swamp in its area, and passed through -a grove of slender birches and poplars. Their stems, streaming with -rain, were as bright as polished marble, and their foliage, illuminated -by the clear sunlight, was marvelously green against the deep blue of -the sky. Presently a vista opened northward, and at its end rose the -dark peak of Chocorua. After a rain this towering rock presents a -noticeably different appearance from its normal coloring. Most of its -surface is covered by lichens, one species of which, when dry, resembles -burnt paper. When rain falls upon these lichens they alter their tints, -and the burnt paper species in particular becomes so green that a -wonderful change takes place in the whole coloring of the mountain. -Looked upon through the birch vista, the air being clear and clean, and -the colors of the mountain uncommonly bright, the peak seemed near at -hand, and even grander than usual. There are few things in New England -as truly picturesque as this horn of Chocorua. Three thousand feet above -its lake and the level of the Saco, the great rock lifts itself with -bold and naked outline into the midst of the sky. No foot seems able to -creep up its precipitous slopes to its dizzy tip, and even the sturdy -spruce can cling only to the deep clefts in its storm-swept ledges. -There was a time when the forest reached to its crest, and when the cold -rocks, now naked, were covered deep in soil and mosses. Passaconaway, -close by, shows how this could have been, and how Chocorua must have -looked draped in evergreens. Fire and hurricane destroyed the trees; the -parched soil was washed away from the rocks; and now the only trace of -the old forest growth is an occasional bleached stump or log hidden in a -cleft in the ledges. - -As I strolled homewards I passed a spot where the linnæa has covered -several square yards of ground in a birch wood. The tiny bells had rung -out their elfin music for the year. By dint of laborious search on hands -and knees I found eight of the flowers, still wonderfully fragrant -though somewhat faded. All the rest of the chime had fallen. Not far -away a growth of dogbane fringed the path. I picked some of its blossoms -and held the two sets of bells side by side in my hand. The comparison -made me feel sorry for the dogbane. - - - - - THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAIN - - -Floating upon the clear waters of Chocorua Lake in the latter part of a -warm July afternoon, and looking northward, I see the coolness of night -beginning to grow in the heart of the mountain. At first there is but a -slender dark line marking a deep ravine, through which a brook flows; -then the shadow widens until a great hollow in the mountain’s side is -filled with shade. As the sun sinks the shadow reaches higher and higher -upon the wooded flanks of the two spurs which hold the hollow between -them, until at last only the vast rock of the peak, resting upon its -forest-clad shoulders, is left warm in the sun’s rays. The point where -the shadow begins to form is more than a thousand feet above the level -of the lake. From it, reaching upwards, two folds in the forest drapery -extend towards the foot of the peak. One marks a brook coming from the -upper part of the right-hand ridge, the other a brook which rises at the -very head of the left-hand, or west ridge. The heart of the mountain is -the wild ravine where these two streams mingle in perpetual coolness and -shadow. No path leads to it and few are the feet which have found a way -to its beauties. There is a peculiar charm in a spot unknown to the -many. Its loneliness endears it to the mind, and gives its associations -a rarer flavor. If besides being unfrequented it is singularly beautiful -in itself, it becomes a shrine, a place sacred to one’s best thoughts. -To me the heart of Chocorua is a shrine, all the more valued because of -the weariness of flesh required to attain to it. - -Early on the morning of July 10, I set out across the pastures for the -foot of the mountain. The sun was hot, the air hazy, and not a breath of -a breeze made the aspens quiver. In the shaded hollows something of the -night’s chill still lingered, and from them floated the psalm of the -hermit and the gypsy music of the veery. Now and then the clear, cool -phœbe-note of the chickadee reached the ear, in contrast to the trill of -the field sparrows which came from the warmest parts of the grass-land. -On the hill to the westward young crows with high-pitched voices -clamored for food, and quarreled with each other on their shady perch in -the beeches. - -The flowers which bloomed by the path were children of heat, types of -midsummer. Buds were large on the goldenrod, the St. John’s-wort was in -full bloom, and so, too, were the diurnal evening-primrose, the fleabane -and dogbane, both worthy of sweeter names; the yarrow, as disagreeable -among flowers as a cynic is among men; the tall potentilla, yellow -clover, and, representing the purple flowers, the brunella. In many -places thick beds of checkerberry, decked with brilliant berries, were -made gayer by many heads of the brunella growing through them. The -brunella is shaped somewhat like the conventional chess castle, but the -castle is never quite complete while blossoming, owing to the lack of -harmony among the many little flowers which unite to form its head. Low, -running blackberry dotted the banks with uninteresting white blossoms, -and the stiff spikes of the spiræa were abundant. The daisy, stigmatized -as whiteweed by the indignant farmers, still displayed a few battered -blossoms, which kept company with heads of red and of white clover. -After passing these flowers of summer, it seemed strange, on descending -into a deep cup-shaped basin where a small pond fed by springs is shaded -by lofty oaks and birches, to find the houstonia still in full glory, -and the dwarf cornel blooming in dark and mossy nooks. Animate nature -takes solid comfort in a hot day. As I stole softly downward to the -shore of the little pond, scores of tadpoles shot away from the edge of -the water into its green depths. Painted tortoises, which had been -baking on logs and stones in the full glare of the sun, dropped off -unwillingly into the water. Countless dragonflies skimmed the surface of -the pond, devouring smaller insects, and from a dead limb overlooking -the shore, a crow, whose plumage gleamed with iridescent lights, flapped -sluggishly out of sight among the trees. Snakes love to lie coiled in -the hottest sunlight; squirrels stretch themselves contentedly on -horizontal limbs and bask by the hour; the fox, woodchuck, and weasel, -and even toads and newts, and those so-called birds of darkness the -barred owls, seek the broadest glare of the midsummer sun and absorb -comfort from its scorching rays. - -Taking tribute from the pond-basin by a deep drink of ice-cold water at -a spring in its bank, I crossed another strip of open pasture—where the -tinkle-tankle of the cow-bells sounded with each bite the cows took of -the grass—and gained the edge of the forest and the foot of the -mountain. There was something akin to coolness in the shade of the -birches, poplars, and beeches. New flowers bloomed here and new birds -called. The dependent bells of the white pyrola, of the small green -pyrola, and of the quaint pipsissewa were found beneath the brakes. -Here, too, was the Indian pipe, looking as though formed from sheets of -colorless wax, and its tawny sister the pine sap (_Monotropa -hypopitys_). The wintergreens are strong, positive herbs with rich -pungent flavor, but the pale parasitic plants are mere negations. They -are the “poor relations” among flowers, content to draw their sustenance -from others, while showing no color, giving out no perfume, attracting -no butterflies, and not even daring to face the blue sky until they are -dead. - -The oven-bird stepped primly about upon her neat carpet of dry leaves, -the red-eyed vireo preached his perpetual homily from the treetops, a -young Cooper’s hawk screamed shrilly in the distance, and two -inquisitive red-capped sapsuckers hitched up and down tree-trunks near -me, while I hooted at them after the manner of my barred owls. A grouse -had been wallowing among the leaves, and had left a round hollow in the -dust with five discarded feathers and the prints of her feet to show -that she had been there. _Rana sylvatica_, the wood-frog, betrayed -himself by leaping over the dry beech leaves. I followed him quickly as -he sought to elude me. Not only were his leaps long, but his skill in -doubling was something marvelous. His second jump was generally at right -angles with the first, and thrice he no sooner struck the ground than he -turned and rebounded upon his tracks, so that he passed over or between -my feet. When he was weary I caught him and, laying him on my knee, -stroked the nape of his neck, his back and sides. He soon ceased to -struggle and sat motionless. I laid him gently on his back and stroked -him beneath. His throat throbbed and his eyes blinked, but he made no -effort to escape. Then I restored him to his proper position, and -extended one leg after another. He was as pliable and nerveless as a -rubber frog. Finally I let him alone, wondering how soon he would hop -away; but he showed a willingness to spend the day on my knee, and not -until I placed him on the leaves did he seem to awaken to life and the -advantages of freedom. - -A few rods beyond, a toad hopped from me and I followed him to see what -method of escape he would adopt. As soon as he saw that he was pursued -he increased his speed and by a series of rapid hops reached a cavern -under the arched root of a stump and plunged out of sight in its depths. -Our toads, although of but a single species, vary in color from black to -the paleness of a dry beech leaf. This one, living in the midst of pale -browns and yellows, was nearly as light in tone as the light-footed -_Rana sylvatica_. - -The color of the dry beech leaves as they lie upon the ground is -sometimes curiously bewitched by the spots of sunlight which dapple the -woodland carpet. Walking with the sun behind me, the sunlight, -especially where it fell in small round spots on the beech leaves before -me, was of an unmistakably amethystine hue. Several years ago when I -first noticed this, I supposed it to be due to temporary causes, but I -am now convinced that the color will always be distinguishable when the -conditions named are favorable. - -The loveliest July flower in the woods fringing Chocorua is the -mitchella, named by Linnæus for Dr. John Mitchell of Virginia. In their -small round leaves of dark glossy green, their creeping stems, their -modest, delicate-tinted and highly-perfumed blossoms, the flower of -Linnæus and the flower of Mitchell are much alike. The partridge-berry, -as the mitchella is commonly called, begins to bloom just as the linnæa -bells cease to swing. It is an evergreen, and all through the winter its -bright green leaves and red berries are one of the pledges of returning -life after snow and ice have vanished. The flower is small and faces the -sky. It is white with a delicate rosy blush tinging its corolla, chiefly -on its outer side. The four pointed petals open wide and curve back, -exposing the whole interior of the flower to view. Each petal is covered -on its inner surface with a thick velvety nap which is the -distinguishing characteristic of the blossom. The perfume of this flower -is both powerful and pleasant. When freshly picked it suggests the scent -of the water-lily, coupled with something as spicy and enduring as the -heavier perfume of heliotrope. - - [Illustration: WATER-LILIES IN CHOCORUA LAKE] - -Fifteen or twenty minutes’ walking over the beech leaves brought me -within hearing of the torrent which flows from the heart of the -mountain. Presently I came to the edge of its cutting and saw far below -me, through the trees which filled the gorge, the flash of its waters -and the vivid green of mosses. Walking upstream along the face of the -bank, yet neither climbing nor descending, I struck the level of the -water at a point not many rods distant. I had not gone down to the -brook; it had come up to me. The whole ravine was filled with its music, -and following down with its eager flow was a current of cold air. Above, -in the woods, quiet and heat had prevailed. Here noise and coolness -ruled with absolute sway. The sound came in waves as did the water and -the breeze, but no human senses could measure the intervals between the -beats. The sound seemed threefold,—a splash, a murmur, and a deeper -roar. The roar reached me even if I pressed my hands tightly over my -ears; while, if I made ear-trumpets of my hands, the splashing thus -intensified drowned the heavier sounds. The rhythm of the water was most -prettily shown on a boulder faced with thick moss. When the high water -came it poured over the top of the rock, and the moss was filled with -white shining drops coursing downward through it; but, on the reaction, -it instantly became vivid green. The same pulsation showed in each -cascade, which was greater then less, greater then less, in each second -of time. As I bent over a pool, taking now and then a sip of the icy -water, a small trout suddenly jumped near the foot of the fall below. He -was intensely busy working about in the edge of the falling water, where -rising bubbles and whirling foam half concealed him. In color he looked -not unlike a beech leaf, and he moved so constantly that only an -attentive eye could distinguish him from the waste of the stream whirled -about in the eddies. I cast him some moss and mould, and he darted -hither and thither in the water clouded by it, snapping up bits of food -or specks which he mistook for food. His eagerness and restlessness -seemed born of the restlessness of the stream and the keen temperature -of the water in which he lived. - -There was something of the impressiveness of the sea in this mountain -brook. The sea rolls its waves upon the shore by night and by day all -through the endless years, and this brook rolls down its tons upon tons -of water by night and by day forever. It seems impossible that this and -all the other streams which flow down rocky mountain-sides can be -nourished simply by the softly falling rain and snow. - -Much of the fascination of the sea is in its voice, so seldom hushed, so -often roused to anger. The torrent by which I stood had something of the -same weird power. For the moment, all outside those narrow wooded -steeps, between which the splash, murmur, and roar of the stream -pervaded everything and overwhelmed everything, all beyond that -controlling sound was forgotten, barred out, lost. All within the power -of the stream was under a spell, cooling, soothing, comforting. - -To reach the heart of the mountain nearly a mile of brook bed had to be -traveled, so I climbed upward rock by rock, past falls and pools, -clusters of nodding ferns, bridges of ancient trees now hung with -mosses, and sloping ledges faced with moss, down which the water rolled -in glistening sheets. At one point the brook, years ago, had cut through -a ledge which crossed its path diagonally. One great shoulder of rock -remained, protruding from the western bank and hanging over the water, -which poured into a black cavern beneath, making a whirlpool in the -darkness. The temperature under this ledge was nearly forty degrees -lower than on the top of the bank a few yards above. Standing by the -ledge, I counted nine distinct cascades varying from three to six feet -in height. One of them was an ideally symmetrical fall, for the whole -body of water, gathered between two rocky faces, fell into a deep round -pool just at its centre. Another fall showed clearly why the water under -a cascade looks white. The water poured into a very broad, deep basin at -its upper corner, leaving most of the surface undisturbed; and between -the limpid falling water and the flat face of rock behind it air was -caught and sucked downward by the flow. It was carried to the very -bottom of the pool, where, breaking into small round bubbles, it -struggled to the surface. Strings and masses of snow-white bubbles -filled the area in front and at each side of the fall, while some were -drawn some distance down-stream by the escaping water. These bubbles, -when under water, produced the whiteness of the pool, and, on reaching -the surface, burst and made a large part of its foam and spray. In this -pool, as in many others, small trout hovered about the edge of the -rising bubbles, seizing upon everything which looked like food. They -rose with charming promptness to anything resembling a fly which I -tossed upon the surface of the foam. - -As I neared the heart of the mountain I saw, towering above twin -cascades which fell into a single pool at its feet, the rough likeness -of a sphinx. It was a huge boulder, dividing the torrent by its -lichen-covered mass, and lifting its frost-hewn face towards the narrow -strip of sky left between the trees overarching the ravine. - -Close above the sphinx a spring in the eastern bank filled a hollow in -the hill with cold, fern-decked mud. A flower I never should have sought -in this lofty nook had taken possession of the spot and raised hundreds -of its white spikes towards the sky. It was a white orchis, _Habenaria -dilatata_. In a space six feet by ten, I counted seventy-five of its -plants, each in full bloom. On the edges of this miniature swamp the -leaves of the mayflower mingled with those of the linnæa. The blossoms -of the mayflowers were dry and brown; those of the linnæa, with one -fragrant exception, had fallen. Close by, the open-eyed flowers of the -oxalis smiled from their beds of clover-shaped leaves. - -A few rods farther up the stream, the land grew steeper and the walls of -the ravine drew more closely together. Taller trees presided over the -torrent, and the water struggled downward between larger boulders. A -stream, tumbling down its narrow bed, came from the high eastern ledges -and met that which poured from the heights on the west. Here, in the -perpetual music of falling drops, where one or another of the great -walls of the gorge always casts a deep shadow upon the ferns, is the -heart of the mountain, the birthplace of the twilight. - -Early in the afternoon I followed the western stream to its source, -where, in a dark hollow at the head of the west ridge, hidden wholly -from view by the forest, lies a small mountain lake. Perhaps it would be -more truthful to call it a large pool, fed as it is mainly by melting -snow or the streams of rain-water poured into it from the crags of -Chocorua. Beneath its shallow water the maroon and dark green sphagnum -formed a submerged carpet of intense colors. The growing tops of the -moss, star-shaped and erect, glowed with the tint of life. The borders -of the pool were fringed with dense growths of yellow-green _Osmunda -regalis_ which were swayed by a sweet wind. Through the soft foliage of -the deciduous trees surrounding the pool, lance-shaped spruces and -balsams pierced a way for themselves towards the sky. No fish were -visible in the pool, and its only living tenants seemed to be some -tadpoles about the size of squash-seeds. Now that the noises of the -brook no longer overwhelmed every other sound, the songs of birds could -be heard. Red-eyed and solitary vireos, oven-birds, a black-throated -blue warbler, a hermit thrush, and another thrush which was neither -hermit nor veery, were singing either in the woods close by or among the -small spruces which crowned the adjoining ledges. I climbed to the top -of the nearest ledge in search of the thrush, and gained not only the -full benefit of his song, but a view of many a mile of the fair lake -country, the Bearcamp valley, and the rugged peaks of the Sandwich -range. The air was full of quivering heat and hazy midsummer softness. -Over the shoulder of the Ossipees, south of Bearcamp Water, sparkled -Squam Lake and Winnepesaukee. The hayfields of Sandwich were baking -under the sun’s fierce heat. North of them began the mountains,—Black -Mountain in the edge of Campton, Whiteface, Passaconaway, and, nearer at -hand, Paugus, towards which all the western ridges of Chocorua were -tending. The sun being over and beyond these wooded mountains, they were -very dark, lacking in detail, but clearly outlined against one another. -Northward and just above me the cliffs of the Chocorua horn hung in the -sky. The lichens on the crag were dry and very black. Towering into the -air, ledge upon ledge, and cliff over cliff, the peak was like a huge -citadel defying attack. I had climbed upon the shoulders of the -mountain, but its proud head, held high, was still out of reach. - -The thrush was one which is common upon the upper slopes of the -mountains, wholly replacing the veery there and probably outnumbering -the hermit. Its song, while pleasing, is not as musically beautiful as -that of the hermit, nor yet as unique as the veery’s. The hermit has -three distinct phrases, the veery one, and Swainson’s several which are -not distinct, but rather jumbling reproductions of the same notes. If -this bird had learned his song for himself, I should surmise that he had -listened closely to a veery and a thrasher, and then tried to model a -combination of their notes upon the lines of the hermit’s exquisite -song. Perhaps it was the heat and the glare of light on the ledges, or -perhaps it was a certain dullness in the Swainson’s song, at all events -I wearied of it and sought a higher ledge beyond the pool. - -On this higher ledge, lambkill (_Kalmia angustifolia_) was blooming in -great abundance. It is a handsome flower, and it goes a little way to -console us for not having mountain laurel. Between two great patches of -lambkill and flowering diervilla was a level strip of gravel. It bore -printed on its face an interesting history. Beginning near the edge of a -thicket and extending to the edge of the cliff, where a view of miles of -surrounding country could be obtained, was a line of sharp hoof-marks. A -deer had walked slowly to the verge of the ledge, presumably to survey -the landscape. The track had been made since the rain of the day before, -and, for all that I could see, might have been made within an hour. -While studying it I heard an unfamiliar bird-song reminding me slightly -of the Maryland yellow-throat’s. The bird was in the thicket. I crept -towards him, but he retreated, singing at intervals. After following for -some time, I tried working on his sympathies, and “squeaked” like a bird -in distress. Instantly a flash of vivid yellow came through the trees -and a magnificent male magnolia or black and yellow warbler appeared in -search of the supposed sufferer. His mate soon joined him, as did a -junco and two white-throated sparrows. The coloring of the magnolias is -certainly gay. It includes blue-gray on the head, black on the back, -canary-yellow beneath and on the rump, with white and dark bars, -stripes, and spots enough on various parts of his body to make him as -variegated as a harlequin. - -While the magnolia warblers are members of the Canadian fauna, and -seldom seen in the breeding season south of the White Mountains, the -bird which I next heard singing was even more interesting. It was a male -blackpoll warbler, perched upon the highest plume of a spruce and -pouring out his unmusical _ze-ze-ze-ze-ze_ with all a lover’s -earnestness. He clearly considered two thousand feet rise on Chocorua -equivalent to several hundred miles’ flight towards Labrador. In this -the flowers sustained him, for growing near by was the charming -_Arenaria grœnlandica_, with its cluster of delicate white flowers -springing from the sand, and the _Potentilla tridentata_ blooming -freely. Apparently dissenting from this boreal majority was a bunch of -goldenrod in full bloom. It was a mountain species which comes into -flower a fortnight or more earlier than its lowland relatives. - -My homeward path followed the crest of the great eastern ridge of -Chocorua as it descends towards the basin of Chocorua ponds. The ridge -is narrow and mainly open, save for a few stunted spruces. In every -direction far-reaching and beautiful views charmed me and tempted me to -linger. From the last of the open ledges, the top of what is called Bald -Mountain, I saw the sun set just behind the peak. Then with quickened -pace I entered the forest and ran through the gathering gloom down the -rough path to the pastures a mile below. - - - - - A LONELY LAKE. - - -Six witheringly hot days had been followed by one so cool and clear, so -full of rushing Arctic air, that all nature sparkled as on an autumn -morning. About sunset on the evening of this cool day,—July 17,—the pale -blue sky in the north was suddenly barred by ascending rays of quivering -white light. Chocorua, lying dark and still against the cold sky, seemed -to be the centre of the aurora. As it grew dark I watched to see the -heavens glow with the electric flame, but hour after hour passed with -only an occasional gleam of light. Shortly before sunrise, however, the -promised illumination came. I awoke to find my chamber as bright as -though day had come, for from the southeast moonlight streamed across -the floor, while from the north the glow of the aurora flooded the room. -An immense arch of throbbing white light crowned the northern sky, and -within it a smaller coronet rested above the inky blackness of Chocorua. -Between the two hung the Great Dipper, and from one to the other -occasional pulsating rays passed. The eastern end of the upper and -larger belt of light made a sharp bend inward a few degrees above the -horizon, and to a less defined extent the smaller arch was similarly -shaped. The effect of this curve at the base of the two bows was very -remarkable, for it destroyed the image of an arch and created the -impression that one was looking into the inner curve of a ring which -surrounded the earth, just as the rings of Saturn encircle that planet. -Gradually the lower ring faded, the upper one settled down closer and -closer to Chocorua; masses of electric energy seemed to dart across the -eastern sky, where Sirius and the fair Pleiades gleamed, to the moon and -Mars sailing serenely on their westward way. Behind Pequawket the lowest -line of sky grew white. The dawn was coming, and, as though to avoid it, -the hurrying beams and flashing waves of aurora moved faster and faster -until in their dimness they could scarce be seen. Snowy mists raised -their phantom forms from the lake and floated eastward to meet the sun. -A whippoorwill sang his last song to the night, and as the glow of day -grew more real a hermit thrush told in its heartfelt music the joy of -life at the birth of a new period of labor. - - [Illustration: CHOCORUA FROM HERON POND] - -A scrap of mist which trailed over the forest just at the foot of one of -the ridges of Chocorua was the spirit of a lonely lake rising to do -homage to the day-star. This lake is a rendezvous for all that is -wildest and freest in the animal life of the region. It is sufficient -unto itself, and yields no tribute save to its lord the sun. Around it, -high glacial walls stand, crowned with ancient oaks and graceful -birches. No stream flows from it, or into it, unless threads of ice-cold -water coming from springs in its banks are called streams. Its waters -are deep, the fisherman, so they say, finding places in its centre where -long lines reach no bottom. Seen from the peak of Chocorua, this lake, -even in November, is as green as an emerald, and when one floats upon -its surface and gazes far down into its depths, rich green water-weeds -are seen stretching their tremulous fingers towards him, and crowding -each other for standing-room on its muddy floor. - -Many are the days I have spent at this lonely lake learning the secrets -of its tenants, and this morning, soon after the auroral beauties had -faded from the sky, I came to it while the dew sparkled on the ferns. -Drifting with the wind on the water, or stretched on the soft mosses -which flourish under the birches, I stayed by the lake until evening. If -an observer keeps still, it matters little whether he sits hidden under -the spreading branches of a great oak on the shore, or lies upon a raft -anchored in the lake, he is sure to see something interesting in either -case. One morning, as I leaned against the oak’s wide trunk, watching a -bittern on the opposite shore, I noticed that the bird showed signs of -uneasiness, paying more heed to the bushes than to its fishing. Suddenly -the cause of its unrest became apparent. The bushes just behind it were -slowly poked apart and the head of a fox appeared. With a guttural note -of alarm the bittern rose and flew across the lake, above the trees on -the opposite bank, and out of sight. Reynard, graceful and alert, stood -upon the mossy shore for a moment, looking after his lost opportunity; -then turned abruptly and vanished in the underbrush. Another morning, -while I was under the same tree, a big blue heron came softly stepping -along the beach towards me. He was a comical figure, with his attenuated -legs, wasted to the semblance of rushes; his extensible neck, expressive -of centuries of hungry reaching after the partly attainable; and his -long beak as cruel as a pair of shears. His dull eyes told of terror -when he saw me. For a moment I felt their worried glare, and then the -quaint machinery of the bird was put in motion and he flapped off out of -sight. - -One still, cloudy afternoon in August, I lay upon a raft of -weather-beaten logs and mossy boards, watching the fitful sky and -listening to an occasional bird-note, when suddenly my eyes were drawn -to the north shore of the lake by seeing a branch of green leaves -swimming, apparently unaided, along the surface of the water. After -progressing for forty or fifty feet it disappeared under the ripples. A -mystery, truly. A few moments later a muskrat’s head rose above the -water, and the creature swam back to the point from which the leaves had -started. Leaving the lake cautiously, the rat crawled clumsily up the -bank into the bushes. After a minute or two it came waddling out bearing -a second branch of ash, and this, too, floated along the placid surface -of the lake until abruptly drawn down into the rat’s burrow in the -submerged bank. Later in the afternoon I noticed a V-shaped ripple -plowing across the lake from the southern shore. On it came, a small, -dark object being at its point, parting the water steadily. As it drew -near the raft I saw that the dark spot was the head of another muskrat, -whose course was shaped straight for the hole into which his mate had -been carrying ash branches. He passed quite close to me without alarm, -and a minute or two later the ripple ceased as the rat sank below the -water a few yards from the mouth of the hole. - -The same still, cloudy day, a brownish black creature appeared on the -southern shore of the lake and ambled along the edge of the water. At -first glance it looked like a black kitten, but a plainer view showed it -to be twice the length of a kitten, although no larger round than a -man’s wrist. Its progress at times was almost snake-like, so undulatory -was it. Its head and fore-quarters would be gliding down one side of a -log before its black tail and hind feet had quite reached the log on the -other side. The edge of the pond was lined with tadpoles clinging to -logs and stones, with their heads towards the shore. The black creature -seemed to be attempting to catch these fish-like batrachians, for every -few yards he pounced at something, and, if successful, cantered out of -sight, into the weeds and bushes, where he remained until, so I -surmised, he had eaten his adolescent frog. Although the raft was only -about a hundred feet from the western shore of the pond, the mink kept -his course past me, apparently without a thought of anything beyond the -wary polywogs. He went as far as the mouth of the muskrat hole and then -turned and retraced his cantering until I lost sight of him on the -farther southern shore. Several times, in his eagerness to catch a -tadpole, he plunged wholly beneath the water and pursued his prey as -though he had been a pickerel. - -At the northeastern corner of the lake there is a grove of oaks, the -largest of which doubtless stood there before this part of New England -was settled by white men. Squirrels hold this grove as frisky -tenants-in-common with woodchucks and raccoons; a family of porcupines -having a right of way across it by virtue of unopposed use running back -till the memory of rodents knoweth nothing to the contrary. I have never -been so fortunate as to find ’coons in the grove, although some of my -household have found them, but I have seen their footprints in the April -snow. They are strange footprints, which one can never mistake for any -other. If the dearest, plumpest baby in New England patted the soft snow -with its dimpled hands, it could not make daintier images of its little -palms than this wild creature of the forest makes with its feet, as it -hurries over the new-fallen snow. The most conspicuous squirrels by the -pond are the great bushy-tailed grays; the most retiring are the refined -little flying-squirrels, which live in a deserted woodpecker’s hole in a -dead tree. The grays climb after acorns to the highest limbs and -branchlets of the oaks, frequently breaking off leafy twigs, and -dropping acorns to the ground. Below, watching for and improving their -opportunities, are striped chipmunks, which gather up a portion of the -harvest and conceal it in their burrows. Chickaree, too, is there, -nervous, petulant, and noisy, but he is more likely to be found in the -pines, or near the butternuts. In winter, especially, the pine woods are -alive with red squirrels. I recall seeing twenty red squirrels in a -single midwinter day. Chipmunks may be seen late in December, and by the -end of February, if it is warm, and the mouths of their holes are not -covered by snow, they are ready to take a peep at the sky. They store -enormous quantities of food, and the heat and moisture of their nests is -such that they can eat corn sprouts and acorn shoots in midwinter while -poor Chickaree is scratching about in the cold snow for an unnibbled -pine cone. The gray squirrels are fond of the high-bush blueberries, -which grow in abundance on the margins of the pond. They come down from -the oaks to the great fallen trees lying half on the shore and half in -the lake, and bask in the sunlight, drink of the water, and run up and -down the logs with tails arched and waving behind them. - -The home of the porcupines is west of the pond on the slope of a heavily -wooded hill, the sides of which are encumbered by very large boulders. -Beneath one of the largest of these boulders and overhung by one almost -as large, which rests against its mate, is the porcupines’ den. By lying -down between the rocks and crawling forward into the mouth of the den I -can see several feet into its black interior. A passage large enough for -a hound to squeeze through leads out of sight below the rocks. Quills -and hairs line the ground, and other marks of long occupancy are -abundant. I have been told by farmers that they had killed old -“hedgehogs” weighing nearly fifty pounds. Tales are told of white -porcupines, and it is impossible to shake the hunter’s belief in the -brutes’ power to shoot their quills at their enemies. - -The skunk is a well-known character at the pond, but I have not sought -her society, and it is an open question whether she lives in a deserted -woodchuck hole or among the boulders on the porcupine’s hill. - -So far as I know, Bruin never comes to my pond. He lives within sight of -it among the oaks and blueberry patches on the ledges of Chocorua, and -if his small eyes ever scan the landscape from the cliffs above the -heart of the mountain, he can see its emerald water gleaming in the -sunlight. I am more than willing not to find his huge footprints on my -mosses. Deer, on the other hand, go freely and frequently to the pond, -and in May and June come to the garden patch below my cottage. - -Wings even more than feet bring wild life to the lonely lake. The first -time that I ever saw the waters of the pond flashing and rippling in the -sunlight, wings awoke the echoes of the basin as a flock of black ducks -rose at my coming and vanished behind the oaks. Wood ducks nested for -years in a hollow oak by the shore. One bright October morning a black -tern, borne by storm or waywardness of wing, came to the lake with five -black ducks. That tiny mirror in the deep woods seemed to please the -weary sea-bird, for it rested there many hours, and even when alarmed -circled for a while in the sky and then returned to the spot where -Chocorua’s horn was reflected in the mountain pool. The great numbers of -tadpoles and frogs always to be found in the lake attract not only the -great blue heron and the bitterns, but also the night herons, which -sometimes come in flocks of eight or ten to fish in the lakes of this -region. Early in August of each year a kingfisher appears at the pond -and passes much of his time by it. There are certain dry branches upon -which he perches one after another in order, as he circles round the -pond uttering his harsh rattling cry. I suspect that fishing of the same -kind goes on after dark, for the lake is a favorite resort of the barred -owls, whose trumpet tones are heard nightly at certain seasons. More -than once I have seen them on branches above the water, or floating on -noiseless wing from shore to shore. The fondness of this owl for frogs -and fish is remarkable, particularly for hornpout, which abound in this -lake. I have known my captive owls to strike a fish with their talons -when it was several inches below the surface of the water in a tank. - -Many a time as I have been hidden by sheltering boughs, scanning the -lake and its shores for signs of life, I have seen a dark shadow glide -across the water, and then a broad-winged bird alight noiselessly on a -dead limb from which the whole surface of the lake could be seen. Its -face would express cruelty and hunger, apprehension and something akin -to remorse. The eyes of a hawk are full of meaning; they tell the story -of guilt and of the eternal misery of spirit which follows guilt. The -hawks which come to my pond are of several species, including the slow -_buteos_, which one sees circling by the hour in the high skies; the -dangerous _accipiters_, so ruthless in their raids upon poultry and -small birds; and the low-flying, graceful, mouse-hunting marsh hawk, -readily to be known by its white rump. At evening the whippoorwills and -their cousins the night-hawks frequent the lake. Just at twilight I have -heard six whippoorwills at once singing their strange song on the edge -of the water. Perhaps they come there to bathe; at all events they sing -only for a moment, after which only an occasional cluck or “whip” -betrays their presence. Late in August the night-hawks fly in large -companies, and as many as twenty-five have sometimes wheeled into the -lake’s basin and circled over it, to the consternation of the small -frogs. - -Behind the great oaks, in which scarlet tanagers breed, there is a level -overgrown with gray birches. Nearly a dozen of these trees have been -converted into drinking fountains by a family of sap-sucking -woodpeckers, and through the summer days, as long as the sap is sweet -and abundant, the indolent birds cling to the trunk, sip the tree’s -lifeblood as it drains away, and catch a few of the many insects which -hover around the moist bark. The product of the trees is shared with -several humming-birds, and the insects attract small flycatchers and -warblers. - -To tell of all the birds which either live near the lake or come to it -more or less regularly, would be to recount the doings of most of the -six-score species which are found in the Chocorua country. The lake is -not only a favorite place of resort for resident birds, but it is a -section of one of those dimly recognizable “lines” of migration along -which bands of spring and autumn birds seem by instinct to take their -way year by year. On this “line,” above the lake shore, I met my first -and only Philadelphia vireo, one of the rarest of our migrants. - -The vegetation of the lake shore has a great deal to do with its power -to attract animal and bird life. I know of some woods which are forever -silent to bird voices, and in which the snows of winter seem untrodden -by any foot save mine. The lake was once in the heart of a white pine -forest. Scores of huge stumps show where the giant trees lived until a -tornado overturned them. Now the canoe birch is the prevailing tree, and -few creations of the New England soil can rival it in grace, beauty, and -useful qualities. The forest’s carpet of gray and green mosses, -wintergreen, checkerberry, linnæa, dwarf cornel, asters and goldenrod, -ferns and brakes, is strangely lacking in one flower generally common to -the region. I have searched for half a mile in every direction from the -pond and failed to find more than one root of the mayflower. That root, -with its three or four clusters of flowers, is well hidden in a deeply -shaded and poorly watered spot, where its future is threatened by a lack -of all the elements which make plant life prosperous. Near this solitary -root of mayflower there grows an eccentric blueberry bush, which bears -pale pink and white berries very sweet to the taste, but which never -grow blue. Here, too, is to be found the shy little snowberry, whose -fruit has the art of hiding itself beneath glossy round leaves, so that -close search is needed to gather it. Along the banks of the lake -high-bush blueberries of fabulous size tempt the stroller from his -course. Some of these berries were once mistaken for fox grapes. In the -moist sand at the foot of these blueberry bushes, the modest houstonia -blossoms throughout six consecutive months of the year. It comes in May, -and it fades not until November. The bunchberry retains its flowers in -these groves until long after its berries are red elsewhere. Yet autumn -flowers are not noticeably slow in blooming by the lake. One of these -autumn flowers is an interesting hybrid, so recognized at the Gray -Herbarium. For four years we have found several roots of a goldenrod -which is neither the _cæsia_, which it closely resembled in form, nor -the _bicolor_, from which it inherits its white ray flowers. Both of -these familiar species grow near it, and are presumably its parents. - - [Illustration: CANOE BIRCHES OF THE BEARCAMP VALLEY] - -Within the waters of the lake there is abundant life. Years ago it was a -famous trout pond, stocked perhaps by the Indians, but the malice of the -white man spoiled it. A man who had a grudge against those who most -enjoyed trout-fishing in the lake caught a pailful of horn-pout and -turned them into the green waters. They multiplied, and now legions of -them move their hideous bodies back and forth through the swaying weeds -beneath its surface. They never grow large, but their numbers are -appalling. Sometimes when, in a still summer evening, the surface of the -lake is unruffled by wind, and myriads of small insects have fallen upon -the water, the pout appear in countless multitudes, swimming so that -their horns or tails show above the water. - -The tadpoles also are extraordinarily numerous at some seasons, and -they, too, have a way of coming to the top of the water and -contemplating the upper world, to which they hope some day rightfully to -attain. A sudden stamp of the foot upon the shore will cause hundreds of -these floating polywogs to splash into foam the water over half the -surface of the lake. The painted tortoise lives in the lake, but no -other creature of his kind is found near it. In fact, I have never seen -the spotted turtle in the Bearcamp valley. I once dug seventeen painted -turtles out of one hole in the mud on the western edge of the lake, -where they had crowded for some reason of their own. - -Of all the many creatures which frequent the lonely lake, the big blue -heron seems to be the most in sympathy with its shy silence and -loneliness. He is its king, and by his name the lake is known. - - - - - FOLLOWING A LOST TRAIL. - - -Of the many roads which start northward from Bearcamp Water, every one -is either warded off by the Sandwich range into the Saco or into the -Pemigewasset valley, or else smothered in the dark forest-clad ravines -between the mountain ridges. From Conway on the east to Campton and -Thornton on the west, there is no rift in the mountain wall through -which travel flows. There was a time, however, before the Civil War, -when near the middle of the great barrier the human current found an -outlet southward from the upper end of Swift River intervale to the -Bearcamp Valley. Sitting by the fireside of a sturdy Albany farmer as -the December moonlight gleamed upon the level snows of the intervale, I -heard stories of the lumbermen’s journeys through those dark and narrow -passes. Great spars and masts, the farmer said, had been hauled out of -the valley under the frowning cliffs of Paugus, and carried safely to -the level fields of Sandwich. Then there arose a storm such as old men -know but once in a lifetime, and the passes were filled with tangled -masses of wrecked forest. All the axes in Albany and Tamworth could not -have cut a way through the snarl without many weeks of exhausting labor. -So at least thought the lumbermen who attempted to pass the abattis -raised by the storm. Years elapsed and the road became only a matter of -vague tradition. Those who climbed the peak of Passaconaway or the lofty -ledges of Paugus saw below them a panorama of ruin. Bleached bones of -the great spruce forest lay there piled in magnificent confusion. Over -the débris, springing from its midst, a dense growth of mountain ash, -wild cherry, and hobble-bush made the chaos more chaotic. No trace of -the lost trail was visible even to the most fanciful eye. - -Between Paugus and Chocorua the hurricane had not done its worst work. -There one could see four miles of narrow ravine reaching from the -Tamworth fields directly northward to a steep ridge connecting Paugus -with Chocorua at their northern slopes. On the other side of the barrier -lay the Swift River intervale. If that ridge were out of the way, if it -could be easily surmounted, or if a rift could be found in it, the -journey of nearly thirty miles from the southern spurs of Paugus, round -through Conway to the northern spurs, would be reduced to eight or nine -miles. The people living at the upper end of Swift River valley, instead -of having to travel sixteen miles to a post-office, doctor, minister, or -store, could touch civilization by driving about eleven miles. - -At half past four on the morning of Saturday, July 30, I drove rapidly -away from my red-roofed cottage towards the southern foot of Paugus. -Long days of parching heat had been brought to an end by a series of -three heavy thunderstorms, which had drenched the country during the -preceding evening. Nature had revived. The sky was bluer, the forest -greener, the gold of the goldenrod more intense. Every particle of dust -had been washed out of the air and off the many-tinted garments of the -earth. For nearly a fortnight the mercury had been among the nineties as -often as the clock struck noon. To face a cool breeze, to see everything -sparkling with moisture, to have the air feel and appear thin and clear, -was inspiring and exhilarating. To find the lost trail into the Swift -River valley was now a matter of delightful interest. - -At the southern foot of Paugus is a ruined mill and an old lumber camp. -A good road leads thither from the highway, and the house at the point -where the lumber road begins is the home of Nat. Berry, farmer, -lumberman, hunter, trapper, surveyor, carpenter, and public-spirited -citizen. I felt that if any man on the southern side of the mountains -knew a way through them, that man was Berry. Two years before, while -wandering over the ridges of Chocorua, I had been caught in one of -Berry’s forty-pound steel bear traps. The springs of the trap were weak -and it was deeply buried in the moss, so that before its cruel jaws had -closed firmly upon my ankle, I thrust the stock of my gun between them -and withdrew my foot. Berry’s greeting, as we drove up to his house, -showed that he had not forgotten my adventure, for he shouted, “Come at -last, have you, to let me cut off them ears? Can’t c’lect my bounty on -you without ’em.” A few words told Berry of my errand, and he at once -showed interest in the quest. - -“Thirty-seven year ago,” he said, “when I was only twelve year old, a -road was run through from this house to the back settlements. It was a -winter road, but I recollect that a man and his wife drove over it in a -pung. They went clean through. About fifteen year ago I went in where -you are a-going, with a railroad surveyor, and he said there was only -five hundred feet rising between here and the height of land. There used -to be another road between Toadback and Passaconaway, but that’s all -choked up now by the harricane. This road is between Toadback and -Coroway, and I know that four miles of it is about as good going now as -ever it was.” - -It required little urging to induce Berry to join us, and our horse’s -head was turned northward into the lumber road leading to the lost -trail. As we drove away from fields, roads, and the surroundings of -habitations, animal life grew less and less abundant, and plant life -less varied. Around the farms robins, sparrows, and swallows are to be -seen or heard at every hour in the day. Woodpeckers and chickadees -abound in the orchards, and even hawks spend more time in sight of -hen-yards than they do in the gloomy solitudes of the mountains. By the -roadside goldenrod was in its glory, while St. John’s-wort was growing -rusty. The pink of hardback and thistles large and small, the yellow of -the mullein, the reds of fireweed, pasture lily, and the sumac fruit, -the purple of vervain, early asters, and the persistent brunella, and -the white of the exquisite dalibarda, of immortelles, arrowhead, and the -graceful spiranthes in turn caught the eye as the wagon rolled by -pasture and sandbank, meadow, copse, and swamp. - -From Berry’s house we drove a long mile before the true primeval forest -was reached. There, in a clearing of an acre or more, were the ruins of -a saw-mill, two or three slab houses, and a collapsed stable where the -lumbermen’s oxen had been kept in the winter nights, years ago. In the -mill’s time sawdust had covered everything; but now the strong, -quarrelsome blackberry had mastered the sawdust. Our guide pointed to a -break in the solid wall of woods surrounding the mill, so we struggled -through the blackberry jungle and left the sunlight behind us. As we -entered the forest, bird music ceased, few flowers decked the -ground,—the pallid Indian pipe seeming more akin to the fungi than to -flowers,—and not a squirrel disturbed the quiet of the endless aisles. -Here and there small brightly colored toadstools and the fruit of -bunchberry or clintonia lent a bit of vermilion, orange, yellow, or -lustrous metallic blue to the dull brown carpet of the woods; or a -branch of maple, prematurely robbed of its chlorophyll, gleamed in the -far-off sunlight among the tree-tops. If by chance the eye caught a -glimpse of the flowers of the rattlesnake plantain, or of some of the -greenish wood orchids, it found in them less color than in the -toadstools and less perfume than in the needles of the balsam. - -There extended before us a clearly marked passageway between the giant -trunks of ancient trees. It was the beginning of the old trail. Stout -young saplings had grown up within it, and the long interlacing stems of -the hobble-bush, or “tangle-foot” as Berry called it, concealed its many -inequalities. We proceeded slowly, cutting away bushes as we went, and -the horse followed with the wagon, which rose and fell over logs and -boulders as though tossed on the waves of the sea. At the end of half a -mile, we decided to leave the horse with all of our impedimenta except -axes and luncheon. A space was accordingly cleared, and Kitty, tied to a -large tree, was fenced in on two sides to prevent her from walking -around the tree, and so choking herself. - -The trees which formed the forest were of many kinds, making it much -more interesting than the monotonous spruce growth of the higher slopes. -Those which were to all appearance the oldest were the yellow birches, -hundreds of them having trunks over ten feet in circumference at a point -two feet from the ground. Some of the giant hemlocks were larger, but -they are, I believe, trees of more rapid growth than the yellow birch -and so probably less venerable. There was a large representation of -ancient beech-trees with trunks which looked as hard as granite, yet -which made me think of wrestlers with swollen muscles strained and -knotted under the tightly drawn skin. Some of the beeches seemed to have -begun life in mid-air, for their trunks rested upon tripods or polypods -of naked and spreading roots, which held them two or even three feet -from the surface of the soil. In other cases these polypods clasped -great boulders in their unyielding embrace, showing that the beech in -its infancy had taken root upon the top of the rock, and year by year -extended its thirsty tentacles lower and lower down the sides of its -mossy foundation until the soil was reached. Then the hungry sapling, -fed for so long on meagre supplies of food and water, must have expanded -with sudden vigor, while its roots grew strong and gripped the rock in -tighter and tighter embrace. The only way of accounting for the empty -polypods seemed to be to suppose the trees to have sprouted upon stumps -prone to decay, or upon rocks capable of rapid disintegration. Many of -the glimpses through these beech woods reminded me of the grotesque -forest pictures which are produced so frequently in German woodcuts. - -Huge maples, with bark resembling that of ancient oaks, formed an -important part of the forest, and so did canoe birches of various ages, -solitary white pines of immense height, and old-growth spruces, the last -named becoming more and more numerous as our road gained higher levels. -Dozens of these trees had been struck by lightning and more or less -injured. One had been completely shattered and surrounded by a spiral -abattis of huge splinters stuck firmly into the ground. - -The twilight and silence of the forest made it restful at first, but as -the day wore on, rare glimpses of distance and of sunlight were as -welcome to us as to men confined between prison walls. - -We had gone rather more than three miles from Berry’s house when our -guide paused and said: “There, the old road is missing for a piece -beyond this, and the best we can do is to head north and spot the trees -as we go.” - -To that point there had been evident, to eyes accustomed to forest -travel, a difference between the continuity of large timber and the -strip once cleared of this timber in order to form the road. Looking -back, we could see the passage; looking forward, there seemed to be no -trace of it. The greater part of Paugus had been passed on our left, and -on our right the peak of Chocorua, which at Berry’s had been northeast, -was now a little south of east from us. Before us the valley narrowed -somewhat, and far ahead a continuation of the ridge of Paugus seemed to -cross the northern sky line and approach the northern spurs of Chocorua. -Blazing the trees as we walked by them, both on our left and on our -right, on the south side of the trunks and on their north sides also, we -pushed forward due north. Ever since leaving the ruined mill our way had -lain close to the foot of Paugus, the width of the valley being between -us and the foot of Chocorua. Nearly a mile was traversed before we -touched the wall of Paugus barring the north and forcing us to bend -eastward. Entering a narrow ravine, none too wide for a single road at -its bottom, we came once more upon the lost trail. Marks of the axe were -frequent, but the great hemlocks which it had felled were mere -moss-covered pulp, and from their stumps viburnum or young trees had -sprouted. Berry found spots on the trees which he remembered to have -made when he guided the engineer through the pass fifteen years before. -The walls of the ravine grew steeper, and across it fallen trees -occasionally blocked the way. Presently it bent sharply to the left, so -that we were once more headed northward, and then it widened into an -amphitheatre half a mile in width, wholly surrounded by steep and rocky -sides. The old trail was again lost, and Berry declared that out of this -pocket there was no outlet save over the towering ridge at the north. -The story of the man and woman in a sleigh, who had once crossed this -frowning barrier, alone sustained our hopes of finding a pass which -could be opened to wheels. - -My watch said that it was 10.30 A. M. As we had begun our first meal at -four A. M., a second one seemed appropriate; so in the face of our -frowning crisis we lay upon the moss and made way with the larger part -of our knapsack’s contents. A red squirrel, inquisitive, petulant -Chickaree, came down from the ridge and chattered to us. Far above in -the treetops two birds called loudly to each other. Their notes were new -to me, and so shy were they that I secured only a distant glimpse of -them through my glass. They seemed to prefer the highest tips of dead -trees, from which they darted now and then into the air after insects. -It did not require much knowledge of birds to assign this noisy couple -to the family of the tyrant flycatchers, and their size was so great as -to make them one of three species,—kingbirds, great crested flycatchers, -or olive-sided flycatchers. As I knew the first two well, from daily -chances to watch their habits, I felt practically certain that these -keepers of the pass were the wild, wayward, and noisy olive-sided -flycatchers of which I had heard so often, but never before met on their -breeding-grounds. Luncheon over, we faced the barrier, and, selecting a -shallow ravine in its side, began the ascent. While struggling over huge -boulders and winding around fallen trees we did not feel as though -wheels were ever likely to go where legs were having so hard a time. -Still the ascent was made in less than ten minutes, and to a practical -road-builder the slope, cleared of its surface débris, would present few -serious obstacles. - -On reaching the top we gained a view of the peak of Chocorua well to the -south of east, and of the ramparts of Paugus, half spruce hung and half -bald rock, bounding the long valley through which our morning tramp had -taken us. The peak of Chocorua had lost its horn-like contour and -resembled more a combing wave dashing northward. It was the only part of -the mountain proper to be seen, as in the foreground a massive spur -projecting northwestward completely concealed the principal mass. -Looking towards the north, the prospect was disheartening. The ridge on -which we stood had been a battleground of the elements. It was, in the -language of this region, a “harricane,” and woe to the man who ventures -into a “harricane.” We advanced cautiously, choosing our ground, and -cutting a narrow path through the small spruces, cherry saplings, and -mountain maples which had overgrown the fallen forest. Every few steps -we came upon stumps which bore the axe mark instead of that of the -storm. We surmised that we had struck a belt which had been “lumbered” -before the hurricane had completed its destruction. Fighting on yard by -yard, we crossed the top of the ridge and gained its northern edge. -There the signs of timber cutting were plainer, and presently I noticed -a curious ribbon of saplings reaching down the slope in front of us. The -young trees in it were higher than the wreck on each side of it, yet the -ribbon was the road and the wreck was all that remained of the forest -through which the road had been cut long years ago. The broken thread of -the lost trail had been found. Behind us a blazed path reached into the -Bearcamp valley; before us the lumber road wound downward a short two -miles to the Swift River road, now plainly visible over the sloping -tree-tops. - -We followed the lumber road down about a mile, searching for a hut which -Berry remembered to have seen. As we descended, the “harricane” was left -behind, and our ribbon of saplings led into the forest, its massed stems -contrasting oddly with the wide-spaced trunks of the primeval growth. -Coming to the hut, which Berry said had been built twenty years before, -we found it remarkably well preserved. Straw still remained in the -lumbermen’s bunks, pieces of the stove lay on the floor, and although -the roof had been sprung by snow resting heavily upon it, the hut was as -dry and habitable as ever. It even retained the “stuffy” smell of a -dirty and ill-ventilated house. It was inhabited, too, not by men, but -by hedgehogs, as the American porcupine is universally called in New -Hampshire. They had been under it, through it, and over it. Every piece -of stair, joist, or floor, upon which salt or grease had fallen, had -been gnawed away by them. They had slept in the bunks both upstairs and -down, and the stairs bore traces of their constant use. - -In front of the hut stood a watering-trough. It was a huge log hollowed -by the axe into two tanks, a small one at the upper end for man’s use, -and a larger one below for the cattle. Small logs had been neatly -grooved as spouts to lead the water from the brook to the trough. Moss -grew upon them now and the summer sunlight shone upon them, but it was -easy to imagine the snow piled high upon the hills, smothering the -brooks and burying the rough spouts, and to fancy that over the trampled -snow the woolly and steaming oxen came to drink of the water, while a -sturdy French Canadian broke the ice with his axe and drank at the spot -where from under the snow the spouts led the water into his end of the -dugout. The cattle are dead, the axe has rusted, the Canadian has been -killed in a brawl, or has gone back to his River St. Lawrence to spend -his old age under the shadow of the cross, but the brook still murmurs -over its pebbles, and when snow falls by the trough and the hut it is -cleaner and purer than the foot of the lumberman left it. - -Woe to the man who ventures into a “harricane”! Not content with the -road which we had made and found over the ridge, we sought, as we turned -homewards, to see whether another lumber road, which came into ours from -the southeast, did not cross the ridge by an easier grade. Following it -upward higher and higher, we came at last to an open ledge from which a -beautiful view was gained. Northward of us frowned Bear Mountain, dark -in its spruces. To its left were Lowell, Nancy, Anderson, and the rest -of the proud retinue of Carrigain. Deep shadows lay in Carrigain Notch. -Bluer and fairer, higher and more distant, the heads of Bond, Willey, -and the Franconia Mountains rested against the sky. To the westward, -above the long rampart of Paugus with its flat, gray cliffs capped by -black spruce, towered the cone of Passaconaway, wooded to its very tip. -Southward, just across a deep ravine and behind a heavily timbered spur, -was Chocorua, its great tooth cutting into the blue heavens. Though we -enjoyed the picture of the distance, we were filled with something like -despair at the foreground. On three sides of us the “harricane” extended -as far as the nature of the ground permitted us to see. Westward, along -the ridge, in the direction in which lay our trail of the morning, it -reached for half a mile at least, and through it we must go, unless, -indeed, we preferred to retrace our steps into the Swift River valley -and regain our path by such an ignominious circuit. Seen from above, -that half-mile of forest wreck looked like a jack-straw table of the -gods. Thousands of trees, averaging sixty or seventy feet in height, had -been uprooted and flung together “every which way.” They were flat upon -the ground, piled in parallel lines, crossed at right angles, head to -head, root to root, twisted as though by a whirlwind, or matted together -as they might have been had a sea of water swept them from hill-crest to -valley. Boulders of various sizes lay under the wreck, and, to make its -confusion more distracting, saplings, briers, and vines flourished upon -the ground shaded and enriched by the wasting ruin. - -It took more than an hour to climb and tumble over half a mile of this -tangle. Any one who has watched an ant laboriously traversing a -stubble-field or a handful of hay, crawling along one straw, across -some, under others, and anon climbing to a height to consult the -distance, will know how we made our journey. Men go through great -battles without a scratch, but they could not penetrate a “harricane” -with any such fortunate results. - -The spots on our blazed trees seemed as friendly as home on a winter’s -night, when at last we reached them and began the southward march. As we -had been two hours without water, the first brook drew us to its side -and held us entranced by its tiny cascades. In the pool from which I -drank, half a dozen caddis-worm cases lay upon the sand at the bottom. -They were sand, yet not of the sand, for mind had rescued them from the -monotony of their matter and made them significant of life. They had -faithfully guarded their little builders while dormant, and now those -awakened tenants had risen from the water, dried their gauzy wings in -the sun and vanished in airy wanderings. Near the brook lay a dead tree, -and upon it were fastened a number of brightly colored fungi. Their -lower surfaces and margins were creamy white, then a band of orange -vermilion passed around them, while the upper and principal part was -greenish gray marked with dark brown wavelike lines. They reminded me, -by their color and surface, of the tinted clay images or costume figures -which are made by peasants in several parts of southern Europe, and in -Japan. Anything more in contrast with the gloom of a northern forest -would be hard to discover. Much of the ground near the brook was covered -by yew bushes, on which, brilliant as jewels, gleamed their pendent and -slightly attached red berries. The mosses and lichens were the glory of -the wood. Never parched by thirst in these perpetual shades, they grew -luxuriantly on boulders, fallen logs, standing trees, the faces of -ledges, and over the moist brook banks and beds of leaf mould. What the -great forest was to us, that the mosses must be to the minute insects -which live among them. - -So thoroughly had we spotted the trees in the morning, that as we -followed our trail back there was not a moment when our eyes hesitated -as to the direction of the path. - - · · · · · · · - -Four days passed, and on the morning of the fifth a gay column wound its -way through the forest following the regained trail. Nearly a score of -axes, hatchets, and savage machettas resounded upon the trees and shrubs -which encroached upon the road. Behind the axemen came several horses, -each bearing a rider as courageous as she was fair. If branches menaced -the comfort of these riders, they were speedily hewn away; if the -hobble-bush hid hollows or boulders in the road, it was cut off at the -root; if a ford or a bog offered uncertain footing to the snorting -horses, strong hands grasped their bridles and they were led through to -surer ground. When the difficulties of the road became serious, the -horses were left behind and the column pressed forward on foot. The -ridge was met and stormed, the “harricane” was safely pierced, the -hedgehog’s hut was visited and passed, and the old lumber road was -followed swiftly down to the grass-land and highway of the Albany -intervale. If one woman in days long past had traversed the winter road -in a sleigh, others of her sex had now overcome greater difficulties and -broken the stubborn barrier of the Sandwich range. - - - - - A NIGHT ALONE ON CHOCORUA. - - -The 10th of August ranked, by the family thermometer, as next to the -hottest day of the summer. It was a marked day in my calendar,—marked -long in advance for a night alone on the narrow rock which forms the tip -of Chocorua’s peak. It was chosen on account of the display of meteors -which, in case of a clear sky, always makes that night attractive for a -vigil. On August 10, 1891, I counted two hundred and fifty meteors -between sunset and eleven o’clock P. M. As I watched the sky, and saw -the great rock of the peak rising sharply into it, I determined that -another year I would count my meteors from its summit, and not from the -common level of a field. - -By four o’clock in the afternoon a breeze had drifted down to us from -the mountains, and behind them cloud-heads were rising in the northwest. -Fanned by the breeze and undaunted by clouds, I began the ascent of -Chocorua by the Hammond path. In the woods the breeze was stifled by the -trees, and I was stifled by the still heat which oppressed all nature. -For three miles the only bird I heard was a red-eyed vireo, and the only -one I saw was a grouse which flew from the path. In the road below and -along the trail up the mountain there were dozens of young toads. They -were about the size of the Indian’s head on a cent. I wondered how far -up the trail I should find them, so I watched closely as the path grew -steeper and steeper. The last one seen was about sixteen hundred feet -above the sea, and one thousand feet above the Hammond clearing where I -first noticed them. There is no still water within a mile of the point -where I found the last one. In view of such facts, it is not difficult -to account for the popular belief that young toads fall from the clouds -with rain. - -Clearing the forest, and reaching the open ledges on the crest of the -great southeastern ridge of Chocorua, along which the Hammond path runs -towards the peak, I saw that a storm was gathering in the west. Piles of -thunderheads were rolling up beyond Whiteface and the Sandwich Dome, and -tending northward. Chocorua might be too far east to be included in the -drenching which was in store. It was not too far away to lose the cool -wind which suddenly changed my gasping heat into a shiver. With a -quicker pace I pushed towards the foot of the peak. - -All but one of the well-marked paths up Chocorua spend too much time in -the ravines and woods. It is discouraging to toil mile after mile -through uninteresting small growth, without a breath of cool air or a -glimpse of distance. The Hammond path cancels nearly half the height of -the mountain in the first mile of woodland, and then rewards the climber -by successive views which grow more charming as ledge after ledge is -passed. While following the top of the slowly rising and scantily wooded -ridge, the peak is seen coming nearer and nearer, and growing more and -more impressive. Range after range of northern mountains rise above the -foreground, and the far horizon widens slowly. When the foot of the peak -is finally reached, shutting out for a time all that is grandest in the -view, the climber feels that he must scale those forbidding cliffs, -whatever becomes of him when the final struggle is over. So I felt as, -at about half past six, I gained the top of the mountain’s shoulder and -looked up at the huge rock which forms its awful head. The eastern side -of the peak is so precipitous that few have the temerity even to try to -scale it. The southern side is broken into smaller cliffs, between which -tufts of spruces grow. In winter this face is quite readily climbed upon -the packed snow, but in summer wide sloping ledges polished by ice make -the way difficult and dangerous to the novice. A few score rods to the -west, yet still on the southern face of the peak, there is a rift in the -cliffs filled with small trees and fragments of rock. This cleft leads -straight upwards to a small sandy plateau on the west side of the peak, -two thirds of the way to its summit. As I struggled up this almost -perpendicular ravine, I heard the steady roar of thunder, and saw above -me black clouds surging across the sky. It would have been dark had not -the south been filled with silvery light and hazy sunset glory. A -black-mouthed cave upon my right offered a refuge. Hedgehogs lived in -it, but its outer chamber would be storm-proof. Should I wait? No, storm -or no storm, I would gain the peak, and do my part to keep my tryst with -the stars. - - [Illustration: THE PEAK OF CHOCORUA FROM THE HAMMOND TRAIL] - -Stumbling out of the ravine upon the plateau, I faced the north. A -picture was there which made the memory of Doré’s strongest delineations -of Dante’s visions seem weak. On my right was an upright wall of black -rock, on my left an abyss. Northward, before me, lay that wilderness of -forests and peaks which forms the White Mountains, thirty miles square -of spruce forests, and all of it on edge,—a sierra forbidding at its -best, but now made terrible by a tempest. The higher heavens were filled -with loose, rounded black clouds with white spaces between them. Below -them, impending over a belt of country about ten miles north of me, was -a very long but narrow cloud, black as ink, with a clean-cut lower edge -as straight as a level. From it forked lightning was playing downward. -The outlines of the mountains were singularly clear. I could see, -beginning at the right, the Presidential Range, the Crawford Notch, -Anderson, Nancy, Lowell, the Carrigain Notch, Carrigain; and then, -partly obscured by rain, the Franconia Mountains and the nearer heights -of Tripyramid and its neighbors. Just over Tripyramid, reaching nearly -to the zenith, was an opening in the clouds, a narrow space between two -storms. It was clear gold within, but hideous black profiles were -outlined against it, as though the fiends of one storm were looking -across it at their allied hosts in the second bank of clouds now -hurrying upward from the southwest. - -Turning sharply to the right, I found and climbed the rough path leading -up the rocks to the highest point on the peak. Three thousand feet below -me, in that peaceful valley by the lake, was my home. I could just see -its red roof among the trees. Wind ripples were chasing each other -across the lake, marring its white surface. The lake is heart-shaped, -and my cottage rests at the tip. No storm impended over those whom I had -left behind, but the voice of the thunder reminded me of what was -passing to the northward. - -Under the long level black cloud, from which zigzag lightning darted -downward like a snake’s tongue, were three zones of color. The first, -nearest the east, and at the head of the storm as it moved forward, was -gray. It was formed of scud. The second was black, and from it shot most -of the lightning. The third was snowy white shaded by perpendicular -lines. This was the rain. Each belt seemed to be two miles or more in -width, and the whole was moving about twenty miles an hour. When I -reached the peak, Carrigain Notch was just passing under the scud, and -as I watched, Lowell, Anderson, and Nancy were in turn obscured. By the -time Mount Nancy was covered, Carrigain and its notch were reappearing. -Meanwhile, the golden gap in the clouds had closed, and the second storm -was approaching. Its course was such as to take in Chocorua, Paugus, and -the Swift River intervale which lay just below me on the north. Wild as -the first storm made the northern sky, the second one seemed bent upon -making the picture even more gloomy. It was the moment of sunset, but -the sun was lost in a wilderness of thunder-clouds. Suddenly a sound -clear and sweet came to me. It was the first sound, save thunder and -wind, that I had heard since reaching the peak. A long, pure note, -followed by one much higher, repeated several times, formed the song of -my companion on the heights. It was the farewell to the day of a -white-throated sparrow, that sweetest singer of the mountain peaks. A -feeling of forlornness which had been creeping over me was dispelled. -Let the storm come; I was ready for it. - -Not many rods below the peak, on the very verge of the eastern crag, -stands an enormous detached rock, roughly cubical in shape, and at least -twenty feet in each dimension. This rock, which is known as “the Cow,” -rests upon a narrow shelf having a saucer-shaped depression about -fifteen feet in diameter in its upper surface. The Cow projects slightly -beyond the outer edge of the ledge, but at the point where it projects -the concavity of the under granite leaves a space exactly eighteen -inches in height and several feet long, which admits light into the -hollow beneath the Cow. - - [Illustration: “THE COW”] - -Years before, I had discovered this strange cave, and had found that a -projecting corner of rock gave standing-room near enough to the narrow -mouth to allow a man to creep into it. To this shelter I determined to -take my luggage for safe-keeping during the rain. As I wound my way down -the zigzag path to the cave, a junco flew past me in the gloom and -chirped inquiringly. A drop or two of rain fell. Thunder roared in the -southwest as well as in the north. The mountains had lost the wonderful -dark violet shade which they possessed before the light faded, and were -now almost black, those nearest being darkest. As I reached the mouth of -the cave, an uncomfortable thought intruded itself upon my mind,—was it -possible that bears used the cave? I peered in. The place was empty now, -at all events. Pushing in my oilskin coat, jersey, knapsack with lunch, -lantern, and star-atlas, I slid in after them. At the deepest part of -the depression in the ledge, the space between the rock below and the -rock above is thirty inches. I could not sit up straight, but I could -recline comfortably at various angles. Lighting my lantern, I unpacked -my bag and furnished my lodgings. A watch, match-box, foot rule, -thermometer, pencil, a mirror for signaling, compass, hunting-knife, -bird whistles, supper, breakfast, and dry underclothing made the cave -seem quite homelike. The dry clothing attracted me, for I was wet with -perspiration, and my thermometer reminded me that I felt chilly. I -listened. Was it raining? No. Taking my lantern, supper, and dry -clothes, I wriggled to the entrance and regained the air. Happy thought: -if any bear could get into that cave, it would be a very thin one. -Unhappy thought: his thinness would betoken all the greater hunger. - -There was a lull in the storm, for although everything above was black, -the wind seemed to have died away and the thunder to be very distant. On -the narrow ledge between the towering pinnacle and the black abyss below -the Cow, I discarded my damp clothes and put on the dry ones. The change -was comforting. I was glad when it was accomplished, for I had no -inclination to fight a bear in the costume of Mulvaney at the taking of -Lungtungpen. - -Step by step I crept back up the cliff to the summit. There was wind -enough on top, and my lantern had to be thrust into a crack in the rock -on the lee side to keep it not only from blowing out, but from blowing -away. The top of Chocorua is about the shape and size of a large, wide -dining-table. On the south, other levels lead up to it gradually; but -west, north, and east this highest rock is bounded by abrupt sides, from -which a fall in the night would be a serious matter. Lying down on this -dizzy platform, I ate my supper with savage relish, and took new account -of the night and its pictures. Except when lightning illumined some part -of the horizon, the only things visible to me were the long black ridge -of Paugus, the hump of Passaconaway over Paugus, fragments of white -ledges on the northern spurs of Chocorua, and lakes in the valley. Even -Ossipee Lake, fifteen miles or more away, was plainly distinguishable as -a white spot in the surrounding gloom. Lights shone from many of the -cottages near Chocorua Lake, and from Birch intervale, Albany intervale, -and Conway. They were the connecting link between me and the rest of -mankind. In the sky there was absolute blackness, curiously broken once -by the sudden appearance of the red planet for the space of a single -minute. Sometimes a few drops of rain fell, but the second storm seemed -to be reserving most of its strength for a region farther east. It was -now nine o’clock, and the first storm had passed far over into Maine, -its lightning playing with rapid flashes behind Mount Pequawket. At -every flash the sky just behind the pyramidal peak assumed the color of -dead gold, while the mountain was embossed upon it like an emblem on a -shield. Occasionally the second storm produced lightning, and when it -did so the effects were startling, so near was the heavenly fire. One -flash was from side to side across a low cloud which hung near Chocorua -on the east. It was very vivid, and so complex with its many delicate -lines and loops of light that a fiery sentence appeared to have been -written on the sky. Another bolt was broad and straight, and went down -into the forest like an arrow. It was so near and so brilliant that for -almost a minute I could see nothing. The thunder which followed it began -in the zenith, and rolled away, booming and crashing, in three -directions, lasting so long that I wished I had timed it, to see for how -many seconds its terrific echoes refused to subside. As many of its -rumblings and mutterings resounded from the ravines and hillsides below -me, the effect of this great peal was unlike any I had ever before -heard. - -While I was listening to the sighing of the wind-tossed forest in the -hollows eastward of the mountain, another sound reached my ears, and -made me concentrate my senses in an effort to determine its nature. At -the moment I heard it, I was somewhat below the peak, leaning against a -wall of rock facing the south. The sound seemed to come from above. It -resembled that made by a thin stick or shingle when whirled rapidly in -the air. At the same time there was a creaking, and sounds almost like -wailing and groaning. A moment later, a slender column of white cloud, a -hundred feet or more in height, but proportioned like a human figure, -glided past the mountain over the black abyss below the eastern cliffs. -It is needless to say that I was interested in these phenomena. I was -much more than interested; and the fact that I was absolutely alone, in -the dark, miles away from home, with a storm howling around me, was -brought clearly to my mind. The legend of Chocorua, the Indian for whom -this mountain was named, of his curse upon the whites, and of his -melancholy death near these eastern cliffs, rose, for some illogical -reason, into my memory. - - [Illustration: THE PEAK FROM THE SOUTHEAST] - -The sounds in the air continued, and at one time made me wonder whether -electric waves passing through the low-hanging clouds above me could -produce them. There being no light accompanying the sounds, I dismissed -this hypothesis as unsatisfactory. Once I thought that something was -scratching and grinding down the side of a sloping ledge. Since rain -began falling thick and fast at the same moment, I seized my lantern and -retreated to the cave. When I gained the dizzy rock at the mouth of the -cave, the heavens again spoke, and mist-forms swept past in front of me. -The next moment I was at the bottom of the cave, wondering whether a -temperature of 60°, which my thermometer recorded, justified wholly the -goose-flesh that crept over me. - -My lantern cast a clear, steady light into all parts of the cave. Now -and then a flash of lightning showed where the entrance faced the east, -and where one or two other cracks were open between the Cow and its -rocky foundation. I lay perfectly motionless, pondering upon the strange -sounds I had heard. My eyes rested upon several stones lying in the -narrow space beyond my feet where the two rocks neared each other. -Something moved there. A body had passed from the shelter of one stone -to that of another. I held my breath, and watched. Again a brownish -thing flashed past an opening, came nearer, darted forward into the -light, vanished, reappeared, came clearly into view, shot back, and -finally sped across a broad, well-lighted face of rock, and revealed -itself as a large short-tailed mouse,—perhaps an Eastern _Phenacomys_ as -yet unknown to collectors. Although I did not move for a long time, he -failed to reappear, and my only companion was a gauzy-winged fly which -sat upon my knee and contemplated the flame of the lantern. - -The rain continuing, I sang and whistled until after ten o’clock, when I -crawled to the mouth of my cave and looked down into the depths beneath. -A stone thrown far out, so as to clear the first few ledges, might fall -eight hundred feet before it struck the rocks below. As I stared into -the darkness, I found that much which had been invisible an hour earlier -was now dimly outlined in black and white. The sky, too, showed gaps in -its curtain, and the white lakes in the distant valleys were more -silvery than before. The storm was over, the moon was at work eating the -clouds, and soon, I hoped, the stars would keep their tryst. Lantern in -hand, I crept up the rocks, and settled myself once more on the peak. -All my friendly lights in the valley had gone out, and I was now alone -in the sky. - -Paugus, Passaconaway, and Whiteface were quite clearly outlined against -each other and the sky. They seemed very near, however, so that it was -easier for me to imagine myself on a lonely rock in the ocean, with huge -waves about to overwhelm me, than to make those combing waves stand back -three, eight, twelve miles and become spruce-covered mountains. -Gradually other mountain outlines became discernible, and the -cloud-curtain above showed folds and wrinkles, which in time wore out -under the moon’s chafing and let through a glimpse of Mars or Vega, -marvelously far away in that serene ether. Half an hour before midnight -the pale disk of the moon appeared through the thin clouds, and at the -witching hour she sailed out proudly into a little space of clear -blue-black heaven. The wind came in fresher puffs, a snowy cloud-cap -rested on the head of Paugus, and the air was so much colder that I was -glad to put on both jersey and oilskin jacket. A dozen lakes and -twenty-five mountain peaks were visible at half past twelve, and Mars -had worked a place for his red eye, so that it could look down through -the breaking clouds without interruption. Drowsiness now overtook me, -and in order to keep awake I was forced to walk rapidly up and down the -small area of the top, or to jump about over the ledges farther south. -About one o’clock a light flashed brightly from a point near the Maine -line; perhaps in Fryeburg. At first I thought it might be a fire which -would gather strength and size; then, as it appeared to move and come -nearer, it looked more like the headlight of a locomotive. My glass made -it seem smaller, and the motion was so slow and irregular that I thought -the gleam might be from a doctor’s buggy, as the man of sickness took -his way through the night. - - [Illustration: THE PEAK FROM THE NORTH] - -My own light was now growing dim, so I extinguished it in order to save -the remaining oil for emergencies. Immediately afterwards a bat flew -against the lantern, and then perched upon a lichen-hung rock near by, -to recover his composure. The moon slowly made way with the clouds, and -by two o’clock a quarter part of the sky was clear. The mercury had -dropped to 52°, and the moisture hurled against the mountain by the wind -was condensed and sent boiling and seething up the sides of the peak. -Tongues of fog lapped around me with the same spasmodic motion which -flames display in rising from a plate of burning alcohol. At first they -scarcely reached the peak; then they came to my feet, and swept past me -around both sides of my platform; finally they flung themselves higher -and higher, hiding not only the black valley from which they came, but -Paugus and more distant peaks, the sky, the moon, and the glimmering -stars. Suddenly from the fog-filled air came once more the gruesome -sound which I had heard earlier in the night. Its cause was nearer to me -now, and I felt sure that it was some creature of the air, and -consequently nothing which could cause me inconvenience. I strained my -eyes to see the creature as it passed, but in vain, until in its flight -it chanced to cross the face of the moon. Then the mystery was solved. I -saw that it was either a night-hawk or a bird of similar size. The speed -at which it was flying was wonderful. When it tacked or veered, it -produced the extraordinary sounds which, with their echoes from the -rocks, had so puzzled me at first. Once or twice during the night I had -heard night-hawks squawking, and from this time on their harsh voices -were heard at intervals mingled with the booming which, for some -unexplained reason, they make by night as well as by day; after as well -as during the breeding season. - -A few minutes after two o’clock a large meteor shot across a small patch -of clear sky near the constellation Andromeda, and was quenched in the -fog. From time to time other smaller ones flashed in brief glory in the -same quarter of the heavens, and one brilliant fragment burned its way -past Jupiter, as though measuring its passing glory with the light of -the planet. The wind was falling, the temperature rising, and, following -these two influences, the fog decreased, until its only remnants clung -to the ponds and rivers far below. Two thirds of the sky were clear by -three o’clock. In the east, the Pleiades sparkled in mysterious -consultation; farther north, Capella flashed her colored lights, and -Venus, radiant with a lustre second only to Selene’s own, threw off the -clouds which for an hour had concealed her loveliness, and claimed from -Mars the foremost place in the triumph of the night. Her reign was -short. At a quarter after three I noticed that the cloudbank which lay -along the eastern and northern horizon was becoming more sharply defined -by the gradual growth of a white band above it. A greater orb than Venus -was undermining her power in the east. The white line imperceptibly -turned to a delicate green, and extended its area to left and right and -upward. The clouds in the high sky took on harder outlines and rounder -shapes. Shadows were being cast among them, and a light was stealing -through them from something brighter even than the yellow moon. The pale -green band had changed to blue, the blue was deepening to violet, and -through this violet sky the brightest meteor of the night passed slowly -down until it met the hills. High in the sky the stars were growing dim, -and the spaces between the clouds, which looked for all the world like a -badly painted picture, were growing blue, deep real blue. The line of -brightest light above the eastern clouds showed a margin of orange. -Venus in the violet sky was still dazzling, but her glory was no longer -of the night, but of the twilight. She was wonderful, in spite of the -stronger light which was slowly overpowering her. Mars burned like a red -coal low down in the west, unaffected thus far by the sun’s rays, while -Jupiter, supreme among the high stars, was paling fast as the light of -day rolled towards him. - -The eastern sky looked strangely flat. Its colors were like a pastel -drawing. Small, very black clouds, with hard outlines, lay unrelieved -against the violet, silver, and orange. A full hour had sped by since I -first noted the coming of the day, and still the earth below slept on. -Hark! up from the deep valley below the Cow comes a single bird-voice, -but scarcely are its notes sprinkled upon the cool, clear air, when a -dozen, yes, fifty singers join their voices in a medley of morning -music. The first songster was a white-throat, and the bulk of the chorus -was made up of juncos and white-throats, the stronger song of Swainson’s -and hermit thrushes coming in clearly now and then from points more -distant from the peak. There was ecstasy in those matins. No sleepy -choir of mortal men or women ever raised such honest, buoyant music in -honor of the day’s coming. The birds love the day, and they love life -for all that each day brings. They labor singing, and they sing their -vespers, as they sing their matins, with hearts overflowing with joy and -thanksgiving. - - [Illustration: VIEW FROM “THE COW,” SHOWING MOAT MOUNTAIN AND MOUNT - PEQUAWKET BEYOND] - -There is something inexpressibly touching and inspiring in the -combination of fading night, with its planets still glowing, and the -bird’s song of welcome to the day. Night is more eloquent than day in -telling of the wonders of the vast creation. Day tells less of distance, -more of detail; less of peace, more of contest; less of immortality, -more of the perishable. The sun, with its dazzling light and burning -heat, hides from us the stars, and those still depths as yet without -stars. It narrows our limit of vision, and at the same time hurries us -and worries us with our own tasks which we will not take cheerfully, and -the tasks of others which are done so ill. Night tells not only of -repose on earth, but of life in that far heaven where every star is a -thing of motion and a creation full of mystery. Men who live only in -great cities may be pitied for being atheists, for they see little -beyond the impurity of man; but it seems incredible that a being with -thoughts above appetite, and imagination above lust, should live through -a night in the wilderness, with the stars to tell him of space, the dark -depths of the sky to tell him of infinity, and his own mind to tell him -of individuality, and yet doubt that some Being more powerful and less -fickle than himself is in this universe. The bird-music coming before -the night is ended combines the purest and most joyous element of the -day with the deep meaning of the night. The birds bear witness to the -ability of life to love its surroundings and to be happy. The night -bears witness to the eternity of life and to the harmony of its laws. - - - - - BRINGING HOME THE BEAR. - - -The horn of Chocorua rose into a sky full of threatening colors and -shadows. Its own coloring was sinister, its outlines vague, its height -apparently greater than usual. Low, growling thunder came from its -ledges and ravines. The forest at its feet, which ended at my door, was -silent; no whisper swept through its waiting leaves. In the west as in -the north, cloud masses were boiling up into the sky, covering the blue -with white, gray, and black, through which now and then shot a ray of -gold from the protesting sun. A tempest seemed brewing as a not -unwelcome close of a mid-August day. - -A tall man emerged from the woods and came striding towards me across -the grass. A rifle swung to and fro in his right hand as he walked. It -was a repeating rifle, one of those inclusive successors of the -fowling-piece, shot-pouch, powder-flask, cap-box, and wad-pocket of this -tall man’s boyhood. The stride ended at my side, and the tall man and I -spoke of the heat, the drought, and the approaching storm. Just as he -was preparing to lope onwards down the ribbon road through the birches, -I said:— - -“I hear Merrill caught a bear Saturday, and brought it out at Piper’s.” - -“That so? How big was it?” - -“A small one, a two-year-old, probably. It was in one of his traps and -he shot it.” - -“Well, I’ve kept up with him this time. I shot one less than an hour -ago, and he warn’t in any trap, either.” - -I looked at the man wonderingly. There had been no unusual spark in his -eye, flush on his bronzed cheek, or spring in his heavy step. He had not -boasted, or even spoken of his achievement until I touched his pride by -my tale of his rival’s success. Would he have gone home without telling -me? I think so. Yet this meeting with a bear, alone, on the high ledges -of Chocorua, had been one of the joys of this man’s life. Many a weary -hour had he carried his magazine rifle over the ledges, treading softly, -keeping eye and ear alert, hoping to see Bruin on his feeding-ground. A -year before he had trapped and killed some of the great creatures; but -shooting a beast caught in a forty-pound steel trap is tame sport -compared with facing a free bear on the open ledges. - -Before the hunter left me, we had arranged that soon after sunrise on -the following morning he was to pass through my dooryard on his way to -the spot where, under those black clouds, poor Bruin was lying dead. - -The rage around Chocorua deepened. Boom, boom, of thunder rolled -downward from the heights of storm. The peak was swept by masses of -rain. Flash after flash lit up the darkening sky behind the grim -mountain. Still the nearer forests lay at rest, waiting. Then a golden -rift came in the western cloud-bank. One half of the storm rolled past -us on the south, drenching Ossipee and Wolfborough, the other half on -the north, soaking Conway and Fryeburg; we alone were dry. - -The morning of the 13th of August was breathlessly hot. Even the hermit -thrushes forgot to sing. A rattle of wheels brought me from breakfast to -join the party organized to bring home the bear. A strong, sure-footed -horse was drawing a farm wagon which had been the stand-by of an earlier -generation, and which, therefore, was made of solid stuff. My tall -friend and two of his hunting satellites were in it, and around them -were strewn rifle, hatchet, ropes, empty grain-bags, and other apparatus -to be used in bringing the dead brute down the mountain. My master of -the horse, an alert and muscular Prince Edward Islander, stood by ready -to march, so the word was given, and we five, some walking, some in the -ancient wagon, started for the mountain. - -For a quarter of a mile the road was good, winding through my pasture -and belts of white birches. Then we turned from it and plowed through -beds of brake and blackberry bushes dripping and glistening with dew. We -might as well have waded waist deep in the lake, which would have been -warmer though no more wet than that dew-deluged tangle. Next came a -ravine filled with spruces, over which towered two immense canoe -birches, at whose feet a cold spring bubbled in a sandy pool. The horse -wound in and out among the trees, shaking from them showers of cold -dew-drops. Small saplings and bushes bowed before the wagon and passed -under its axles; large ones were bent away by strong hands, or hacked -down. Sometimes the wheels locked against tree-trunks, bringing the -horse to a sudden standstill, and almost throwing the passengers to the -ground; and sometimes they sank into unseen hollows filled to the brim -with ferns, making the wagon careen so that all its contents slid, or -struggled not to slide, against its sinking side. - -Beyond the ravine and its dripping spruces was a narrow sunny valley -pointing straight towards the mountain. Up this valley our party -continued its course, the sun drying the dew from our clothes, and -flashing many colors in the drops still clinging to brakes and grasses. -Fifteen hundred feet above us towered the West Ledges, on which the bear -had been shot. As one looks at Chocorua from the south, its peak seems -to rest upon the shoulders of two converging ridges, one sloping upward -towards it from the southeast, and one from the southwest. Between the -two ridges the soft forest drapery of the mountain falls in graceful -folds and curves to the level of the lake. We were in one of these -folds, climbing towards the steep inner side of the western ridge. On -each side of us lofty trees clung to the slopes of the valley. Owls hoot -in these woods after twilight and at dawn. Great boulders lie in -confusion in the perpetual shadows of the trees, and in the caverns -between and under them are dens of porcupines, foxes, and skunks. - -Not until we reached the torrent at the foot of the west ridge was the -wagon abandoned and the horse tethered. The forest at this point -consists mainly of poplars, birches, and oaks. The bear-slayer led the -way through them, and his more muscular satellite followed at his heels, -cutting saplings in order to form a path for our descent with the bear. -After climbing several hundred feet, we rested. A loud humming filled -the air, yet no bees were to be seen. They appeared to be in the higher -foliage, attracted by something on the leaves. We examined the lower -branches, and then the leaves of low shrubs and plants. They seemed to -be covered with dew, but the dew was sticky and proved to be sweet to -the taste. As we continued our walk we found that the entire side of the -mountain had been sprinkled with heavenly sweetness of the same kind. - -The roar of bees had become familiar to our ears. The bear-slayer was -bending down a slender beech for the satellite to cut, when suddenly he -uttered a cry and sprang backward. “Run, run,” he shouted, and in a -moment the Islander and the small satellite were bounding down the -mountain-side like chamois. The larger satellite became a football under -the bear-slayer’s feet, and I, hearing a second cry of “hornets!” -plunged headforemost into the bushes and crawled away under the brakes, -thus avoiding both the hornets and the necessity of re-climbing lost -ground. The bear-slayer’s retreat was marked by repeated howls of pain -which lent further speed to the flying heels of the rear-guard. It was -some time before the ignominious stampede was checked and a fresh ascent -begun. The bear-slayer had been stung in three places, and the larger -satellite declared he had saved himself from a sting by pulling the -hornet off his back with his fingers. - -Standing among the young trees of the forest were many gray stumps of -ancient origin,—decayed relics of forest gentry now displaced by the -democracy of poplars and birches. These stumps bore no axe marks; they -had fallen at the command of the tornado, not of the lumber thief. On -their sides were long scratches which looked like claw marks. Had “Sis -Wildcat” been trying her claws there? No; but “Brer Bar” had been. Near -by was a small grove of oaks, not one of which was more than a foot in -diameter. Their sides were deeply scored by Bruin’s claws, and their -highest branches hung down upon the rest of their limbs, broken and -dying. There is hardly an oak on Chocorua which has not been climbed by -bears in acorn time, and disfigured by the great brutes in their -attempts to reach the coveted nuts. - -Towering close above the oaks we could see the abrupt faces of the West -Ledges. We seemed to be at the foot of a great feudal castle whose gray -walls needed scaling ladders to be conquered. Ferns grew in the crevices -in the rock; tiny streams of water trickled down its sides and fed -mosses and lichens; honeysuckle, mountain ash, wild Solomon’s seal, and -striped maple sprang in luxuriant tangles from its feet, and tripped us -as we skirted the castle’s base and sought a break in its smooth walls. -Presently we found one,—a rift made originally by ice, but long since -widened and deepened by other erosive forces. Clinging to tree-trunks or -the tough stems of blueberry bushes, we pulled ourselves up the steep -ravine and reached the top of the first ledge. The mountain was still -unconquered before us, but turning we saw, sunlit and smiling, the world -we had left. Curving, undulating forest; warm spots of open pasture; the -Hammond farm, from which one of the principal paths starts up Chocorua; -my own red-roofed cottage with squares of flax, millet, corn, and -buckwheat giving patchwork colors to its clearing; Chocorua ponds and -the cottages on Nickerson’s hill, and then the wider world of forest, -mountain, river, and lake,—Ossipee, Sandwich Dome, Bearcamp, -Winnepesaukee,—blended beauties whose names awaken pleasant memories and -whose picture is a joy to look upon,—all these things we saw, and much -more which we only half thought about, so eager were we to go on with -our quest. - -Climbing ledge after ledge, wading through thickets of mountain ash, -dogwood, low spruce and blueberry bushes, we gained at last the highest -open point on West Ridge. On three sides the land fell away abruptly. On -the north the ridge, heavily grown with stunted spruce and poplars, -continued toward the peak. It did not go straight towards that proud -rock, but sought it by bending westward and then northward in a great -bow. The peak, consequently, stood the other side of a vast hollow -filled with tangled forest. It was near, and yet appeared unattainable. -I thought of the winter day when I had climbed to this point over four -feet of packed and frozen snow and seen the Chocorua horn, crusted with -ice and flanked by mighty snowdrifts, hanging in the bright blue sky. -Then, stimulated by the keen air, I had plunged into the hollow, crossed -it, scaled its farther side on hands and knees, gained the foot of the -peak, and finally won its slippery summit, no larger than my dining -table; and lying there half freezing, had seen the snow-covered world -from Casco Bay to the Green Mountains; Monadnock to Dixville Notch. The -sun of August did not encourage such exploits, and a dead bear lying -hidden near us drew our thoughts away from the heights to the damp -thicket close below. - -The bear-slayer was telling his story: “I was coming along here, sort of -softly, thinking it was just the kind of place for a bear, when just as -I got to this open ledge I heard a hustling round in that snarl of -bushes. I stopped short and listened and peeped in. There was something -black and hairy rubbing round in the blueberry bushes,—you can see how -thick the berries are in there. Well, I thought, I must be careful; -there are lots of folks berrying, and I should hate to put one of these -pills into a woman picking blueberries. It would settle her right off. -So I peeked round, till I was dead sure it was a bear, and then I let -drive—at what I could see. The ball hit him in his side not far back of -his shoulder, and he gave an awful roar and started out this way. I -climbed up on this big boulder, five feet out of harm’s way, and waited. -He was letting out roars and then drawing awful deep breaths. You could -hear those gasps a mile. I could not see him, he was in so thick in the -bushes. But then he began to drag himself off towards old Coroway and I -started after him. I heard him go kerchunk down this ledge, and then I -caught sight of his head and let him have another, and a third ball, but -they didn’t seem to stop him a bit, just glanced off his skull, I -s’pose. Well, he got down ’most a hundred feet before I could get a -sight at his side again, but when I did, I put one in where it stopped -his gasping and kicking.” - -During this narrative we had followed the hunter through the network of -trees, bushes, and brambles, tracing the track made by the bear in his -agony. Branches were broken, leaves crushed, moss stained, and rocks -torn up. As we descended the north slope towards the dark ravine which -the bear had sought, the sunlight grew dim and the air cold. Suddenly I -saw the bear. At the foot of a slippery ledge, over which hung dripping -wet moss, lying upon a deep bed of sphagnum, was a gaunt black form. -Dead and still as it was, it sent a thrill through me. I seemed to see -the being for whom this wild region had been created. The horn-blowing, -pistol-firing, peanut-eating tourist is out of place in the rugged -ravines of Chocorua. Even the bronzed, gray-shirted native with his -magazine rifle is not in tune with the solemn music of this wilderness. -But in the dead creature on the moss I saw the real owner of forest and -ledge, mountain pool and hidden lake. He looked weary and worn, as -though life had been full of hunger and terror. The small, keen, wicked -eyes were closed; the cruel teeth were locked tight, the broad feet were -cut by his last struggles on the ledges, and his thin hair, showing the -hide below it, was flecked with blood which had oozed from four bullet -wounds. - -We five men gathered around the dead bear and looked at him, felt of -him, counted his nails, tried to open his set jaws, guessed at his -weight, discussed his character, wondered at his ability to maintain -life in such a region, and marveled especially at the nature of his kind -to bring forth young in late winter and to rear them in the chill and -foodless months of February and March. With great interest we sought -through his capacious stomach to see what he had eaten, and found quarts -of ripe blueberries, scarlet cherries, and what we at first took to be -grubs dug from decaying stumps. Closer examination showed that Bruin had -swallowed the whole of a hornet’s nest, for the perfect insects, -hundreds of their undeveloped young in the brood-cells, and the gray, -papery nest were all recognized. This bear certainly knew how to pick -ripe blueberries and not to pick green ones. I saw but one green berry -in the quarts which he had gathered. - -Drawing the bear’s fore and hind feet on each side together, the hunter -strapped them firmly. He next tied the head to the feet, so that it -should not drag, and then passed two maple poles through the loops made -by the two pairs of lashed feet, and called upon the larger satellite -and the Islander to shoulder their burden. They did so, and the homeward -march began, the bearers groaning. Possibly a hundred yards had been -traversed before the Islander tripped and fell, pulling the bear down -upon his prostrate form, and receiving also the weight of the heavy -satellite. The hunter took his place under the poles, and fifty yards -more were gained. Then the hunter, with a resounding exclamation, flung -down the poles and whipped out his hunting-knife. With difficulty he was -dissuaded from skinning and quartering Bruin on the spot. The plan which -induced him to stay his hand was suggested by one of the party who had -read of what he called an “Indian wagon.” Under his direction two long -poles were cut and the bear was lashed on top of them near their heavy -ends. The satellites then stood between the light ends, as horses stand -between the shafts, and began dragging the bear down the steep side of -the mountain. They had not gone fifty feet before the weight of the bear -turned the poles over and left the satellites sprawling in the bushes. -Once more knives were drawn and skinning threatened. - -The next proposal was to wrap Bruin in grain bags so as to protect his -skin, and then to drag and roll him down to where traveling would be -easier. The bear slayer consented to try this experiment, and two large -short bags were drawn over the body, one from its head, the other from -its tail. Other bags were laid under the body, and, thus protected, it -was dragged, bumping and rolling, down several hundred yards to the foot -of the ledges. Short cross-sticks were then inserted in the lashings, -which were tied round the bear’s legs, and four of us, two on each side, -or two in front and two behind, raised the body by these sticks and bore -it through the winding path we had cleared while ascending. The lesser -satellite, carrying the rifle, hatchet, and other luggage, brought up -the rear, and urged on the party by jeering remarks and snatches of -song. In spite of repeated cautions from the bear-slayer, whose stings -still smarted, we narrowly escaped walking into the hornet’s nest a -second time. - -More than six hours had elapsed since our departure from home when our -little procession wound out of the woods into my dooryard. Raspberry -vinegar never was more gratefully swallowed, and never was dead emperor -received with more respect than poor Bruin by the crowds which flocked -to view his remains during the afternoon of that hot August day. One -bought his nails, another his teeth, a third his thinly haired skin, -while pieces of his flesh, prepared for future cooking, were carried -away in various directions. As when sugar is spilled upon the ground, -ants come from every quarter to gather up the grains and draw them away, -so dead Bruin drew gossips and idlers from all parts of the town, eager -to pick up bits of his body or stories of his melancholy end. - - - - - THE DEAD TREE’S DAY. - - -It is the theory that there are always plenty of hens to be bought in a -New England farming town; but as a matter of fact, in the month of July, -1892, the country north of Bearcamp presented such a dearth of hens -that, after traveling miles in my efforts to buy some, I returned to my -own neighborhood and hired a contingent for the season. The transaction -was unique, but, on the whole, mutually satisfactory. It had one -drawback. When one owns fowls, the accumulation of family wrath against -the rooster on account of too early crowing on his part always finds -relief in eating him; but when one hires a rooster, his life is charmed -by contract, and he can with impunity crow the family into nervous -prostration. The magnificent Black Spanish cock hired by me began -crowing, on the morning of August 21, at twenty minutes of four. Not a -ray of daylight pierced the bank of mist which filled the east. Nothing -but instinct or a bad conscience could have told Murillo that it was -time to crow. Nevertheless, on this occasion his song was welcome, for I -had counted upon his arousing me early in order that I might spend an -entire day with the Dead Tree. - -On the northern shore of Chocorua Lake a broad reach of swampy woodland -is broken by a meadow. At the point where the small and very cool brook -which bounds the meadow on the west enters the lake, a tall pine once -cast its shadow upon a deep pool at its foot. The pine died many years -ago, and its bark has been entirely removed by weather and woodpeckers, -leaving its trunk and eighty-seven branches, or stumps of branches, as -white as bleached bones. A few rods farther from the mouth of the brook -stands a smaller pine of similar character. These two trees form a -famous bird roost, and at their feet I planned to stay from sunrise to -sunset on this August day, in order to see, during consecutive hours, -how many birds would make use of the tree as a perch. From frequent -visits during this and earlier years, I knew that the tree was not only -a rendezvous for the birds living in the meadow and adjoining woods, but -also a _kursaal_ for tourists in feathers, and for all birds coming to -the lake to hunt or to fish. - -As I left the house, hermit thrushes were uttering the short complaining -notes of alarm characteristic of them at twilight. Dark as it was, they -were awake and stirring. Reaching the bank of the lake a minute or two -after four, I startled a spotted sandpiper from the beach, and heard his -peeping whistle as he flew from me across the black water, beyond which -only dusky masses of gloom marked the pine woods on the farther shore. -The surface of the water was disturbed by thousands of insects cutting -queer figures upon it. Where they moved, white ripples followed. As I -walked along the moist sand of the beach, pickerel shot out from the -shore, bats squeaked, and frogs jumped into deeper water with nervous -croaks of fear. Then a whippoorwill sang, and as his weird notes echoed -from the woods, Venus sailed clear from the mist bank and reflected her -dazzling beauty in the lake. As I drew near the mouth of the brook, a -solitary tattler ran along the sand in front of me, whistling softly. -When I turned into the bushes, he stopped and resumed his search for -breakfast. - -The dead tree rose above me, jet black against the dark sky. Stepping -softly through the bushes, I disturbed the wary catbirds, and their -fretful cries awoke the meadow. At twenty minutes past four, three -whippoorwills were singing, and two catbirds, with several hermit -thrushes, were complaining. A few moments later, the call of a veery was -heard, a song sparrow gave a sharp squeak, and then, so still was the -air, I heard the heavy stamping of my horse in his stable, a quarter of -a mile away, as he gained his feet after a long night’s rest. The stars -were growing paler moment by moment, and outlines becoming sharper in -the bushes and trees near me. A Swainson’s thrush uttered its clear -“_quick_,” expressive of much more vigilance than the cries of the veery -and the hermit, yet less fault-finding than the mew of the catbird. - - [Illustration: THE DEAD TREE] - -I settled myself comfortably amid the bushes eastward of the dead trees, -near enough to them to see even a humming-bird if one alighted on the -bare branches. At 4.35 I had heard eight kinds of birds, yet the crows, -notorious for early rising, had not spoken. A minute later one cawed -sleepily among the eastern pines where the mist lay thickest, and soon a -dozen voices responded. Dense as was the fog, the light of day made -swift inroads upon the shadows, and when, about quarter to five, a young -chestnut-sided warbler came out of a dewy bush near me, its colors were -plainly distinguishable. The little bird looked sleepy and dull. It -moved languidly, and so did three Maryland yellow-throats which appeared -from the same clump of thick bushes a moment later. As yet no bird of -the day had sung. - -Far away in the swampy woods to the north a big red-shouldered hawk -cried “_ky-e, ky-e, ky-e_.” I remembered the morning, just a year -previous, when, sitting in about the same spot, with Puffy perched on a -dead limb over my head, a red-shouldered hawk had flown with stately -wing-beat to one of the lower branches of the dead tree, and then, -suddenly discovering the owl, had thrust its head forward, opened wide -its beak, and, with its fierce eyes glaring, had shrieked its hatred at -the almost unmoved owl. This morning it did not visit the meadow, -probably finding its humble game nearer home. - -The first bird to appear flying above the level of the meadow was a -graceful night-hawk. Perhaps he had just come down from a night’s revel -in the cool air over Chocorua’s summit. I wondered whether he had been -one of a company of between two and three hundred of his tribe which -deployed across the sky on the afternoon of the 19th, just in advance of -a violent thunderstorm. Yearly, about the 20th of August, the -night-hawks muster their forces and parade during one or two afternoons. -Yet there seems to be no diminution in the number of the local birds -after the army disappears. Perhaps it is formed of migrants from the -north; or perhaps the display is, after all, only a drill, preparatory -to a later flight. - -The Maryland yellow-throats, in moving about the bushes, discovered me, -and began scolding at my intrusion. They came so near to me that they -seemed within reach of my hands. I kept perfectly still, and half closed -my eyes. Their inspection seemed to convince them that I was harmless, -for they went away, and presently the male sang his “_rig-a-jig, -rig-a-jig, rig-a-jig_,” close behind me. I am convinced that closing the -eyes does a great deal to reassure a timid bird. Owls entirely cloak -their evil appearance by simply drawing their eyelids down, and closing -their feathers tightly about them. On discovering a man, birds watch, -not his legs or his body, but his face, and his eyes are the most -conspicuous part of his face and fullest of menace. I have sometimes -fancied that nervous birds knew when they were watched, even though they -could not see the observer. - -At 4.48 a kingbird came sailing and fluttering over the meadow, its -chattering cries giving ample warning of its approach. It lighted in the -big tree, and scanned sky, water, and grass, searching for something -with which to quarrel. A flicker passed silently, coming, as the -kingbird had, from the woods, and going to a tree near the lake shore. -Small birds, possibly warblers, flew by, westward. A blue jay screamed -harshly in the edge of the woods, but the fog, which was growing more -and more dense upon the meadow, discouraged its coming to the dead -trees. Just at five o’clock a goldfinch undulated past, and the noisy -rattle of a kingfisher echoed along the edge of the pond, provoking -answers from a red squirrel, whose chatter seemed an imitation of the -call, and from a crow, whose mimicry of the fisher’s rattle was -remarkably good. Probably all bird-calls originated in the efforts of -their makers to reproduce sounds which pleased or startled them. In this -case, Chickaree and Corvus had no sober motive for replying to the -kingfisher; they may neither of them have associated the rattle with the -blue projectile which made it. Both were entertained or attracted by the -sound, and each in its way tried to reproduce it. It is by a similar -process, doubtless, that parrots, crows, and blue jays acquire the power -of producing sounds which correspond to our words. Later, they may gain, -through experience, a knowledge of the meaning or force of such words, -but often no such knowledge lies behind the empty iteration of the -parrot. - -For nearly a quarter of an hour there seemed to be a lull in the process -of bird-awakening. The Maryland yellow-throats were moving, and now and -then the male sang a little. Crows called in the distance, and the -catbirds moved restlessly about from one part of the meadow to another, -mewing, but nothing new appeared under the fog mantle. The spell was -broken by the appearance of one of the small tyrant flycatchers, which -are so difficult to identify during the migrations unless they are -killed and closely examined. This one seemed to me to be a least -flycatcher (_Empidonax minimus_), there being almost no trace of yellow -in his coloring. He flew from point to point, in or just over the -bushes, catching small insects with vicious snaps of his beak. -Apparently it was necessary, for the proper working of his machinery, to -have his tail jerk spitefully several times a minute. - -About half past five three crows came to the big tree. One of them -sailed softly by, but the other two alighted and began cawing in a -fretful way. They were bedraggled with fog and dew, and their tones told -of hunger and discomfort. When they spoke, they thrust their heads far -forward, giving them a low, mean air. They pulled viciously at their -moist clothing, all the while keeping the keenest watch of their -surroundings and the distance. Suddenly one of them saw me, and with a -low croak flew away, his mate following. Again silence and fog -prevailed. A cedar-bird, alighting on the tip of the old tree, seemed to -shiver. He remained in the dim upper air but a moment, taking a headlong -plunge into the shrubbery below. I thought even the frogs resented the -slow-moving vapors, for they croaked and splashed restlessly. - -A red-eyed vireo began his sermon at 6.10, and soon after, blue sky and -scattering rays of sunlight appeared. Then the birds became more -cheerful, and catbirds, crows, kingbirds, Maryland yellow-throats, and -song sparrows vied with each other in activity and noise. Every one of -them was intent upon making a good breakfast. The catbirds ate viburnum -berries; the crows marched upon the lake sand, searching for the waste -of the waves; a barn swallow, the kingbirds, and several smaller -flycatchers hovered or darted in pursuit of insects, and the sparrows -gathered their harvest from the earth. Then a flicker appeared in the -top of the old tree, and, finding a resonant spot in the trunk, beat his -reveille softly upon it. My neck fairly ached when I tried to imagine -the mental and muscular effort required of the bird to produce such -regular and rapid action with his beak. The only way in which a man can -make as many beats to the minute with any regularity is by allowing his -hand to rest in such a position that it will tremble. Then, by grasping -a pencil and resting its tip upon a board, a sound somewhat similar to -the rolling reverberation of the woodpecker’s drumming can be produced. - -At half past six an olive-sided flycatcher came to the pine, but on -seeing the kingbird disappeared. A moment later the kingbird flew away, -and the olive-sided at once returned to the highest branch of the tree, -and made it his point of rest during a long series of sallies after -insects. When he caught one of large size, he brought it back to his -perch, and pounded it violently against the branch until its struggles -ceased, and its harder portions were, presumably, reduced to a jelly. -The kingbirds really have more right than any of the migrants to use the -old tree, for they have built, year after year, time out of mind, in the -spreading branches of the nearest living pine overhanging the lake. As -August advances, however, they wander a good deal, paying visits to my -orchard and other good feeding-grounds near the lake. While they are -away, wood pewees and phœbes, olive-sided and least flycatchers, visit -the vicinity, and enjoy the great tree and the fine chances which it -offers of seeing insects over both land and water. About quarter to -seven a solitary sandpiper flew swiftly over the meadow, calling. It -made two great circles, rising above the trees, and then flew westward -so fast that I looked to discover a pursuer, but could discern none. In -the high woods, over which it flew, the crows were chortling. Northward -the peak was clear, although below it a long scarf of mist trailed over -the forest, moving westward. In the tree-top the flicker “flickered,” -and then drummed; called again, and drummed more emphatically. Soon a -second woodpecker appeared, but flew by into the woods. The first one -watched him, and then drummed again, whereupon the new-comer flew to -him, and an animated dialogue took place, the second bird apparently -having much to say in an excited manner. After they had finished their -conference, the second bird flew away, and the first relapsed into a -reverie. It lasted only a few moments, for shortly before seven o’clock -two crows flew into the two dead trees, and the woodpecker hurried away. -Each crow took the topmost perch on his tree, and began his toilet. Just -then a frog jumped with a splash into the pool in front of me, and the -crows, hearing the noise, looked searchingly down, saw me, and flew off -without a caw. - -For several years the morning of the 21st of August has been my time for -first seeing Wilson’s blackcap warblers on their autumn journey -southward. Having been in the swamp three hours without seeing one, I -began to think that, 1892 being leap year, the pretty migrants might not -keep their tryst; but I wronged them, for just at seven o’clock I heard -a sharp “_cheep_” behind me, and, turning slowly, found a blackcap -gazing at me nervously. No sooner had my eyes met his than he darted -away. - -Between seven and eight the trees were occupied by a flock of twelve -cedar-birds, one or two flickers, several young robins, a pewee, a -humming-bird, and some of the small flycatchers. The humming-bird is a -tyrannical and blustering little bird, giving himself many airs. His -wife is quite as much of a virago as he is of a bully. In this instance -she was determined to drive away the flycatchers. Sitting in the big -tree, and looking smaller than a well-fed dragonfly, she darted, every -now and then, at one of the chebecs, and put him to flight. They tired -her out, however, and after a while she gave up the struggle and -departed. About 7.30 a flock of small birds, including several -chickadees, appeared in the edge of the woods and scattered over the -meadow. Few of them came near enough to me for identification, but there -seemed to be vireos and warblers among them. Their coming aroused other -birds, and a goldfinch, a catbird chasing a veery, one or two Maryland -yellow-throats, and a swift were in sight at one time. - -Thirst overtook me at eight, after four hours of watching, and I crept -softly down to the brook. Before I had gone a dozen steps, a huge bird -sprang from the sedgy growth by the lake shore and rose into the air. It -was a blue heron which had been patrolling the sand within forty feet of -me. He flew along the shore for some distance, then rose and passed over -the trees towards the north, seeking, no doubt, my lonely lake, half a -mile away in the forest. One morning, when hidden in the alders and -viburnums which grow at the very foot of the big tree, I heard a queer -guttural call or grunt from the meadow, and the next moment the heron -stood above me, on the lowest limb of the pine. He looked sharply over -the meadow and the lake, stretched first one leg, then the other, then -each wing in turn, and finally fell to preening his blue and gray -plumes. Against a pale blue sky or ruffled water which mingles blue and -gray with bits of white, he is marvelously well protected by his -coloring. No wonder that the poor frogs fall a prey to his patient -spearing. I kept breathlessly still, and watched this largest of our -Chocorua birds. It seemed odd that the old tree should be a perch for -him and for the humming-bird. The hummer is three and a quarter inches -long; the heron spreads six feet with his great wings when he flies, and -measures over four feet when standing. After a while I grew weary of -watching the heron, and of wondering at his macaroni-like legs and his -strangely concentrated stare, which now and then fixed itself on my -hiding-place, so I whistled softly. The heron paused in his -feather-combing and looked towards me. There was no fear in his glance, -only mild interest. I sang, first sad music, then “Nancy Lee,” -“Pinafore,” “Hold the Fort,” everything I could think of, in fact, which -might prompt him to action; but he only stared, now over his beak, then -under it. The latter method of ogling was very effective, for the long -bill was contemplating the skies, while the cold, calculating eyes stood -out each side of its base and glared down across it until I seemed to -feel their clamminess. From music I turned to animal language, and -barked, mewed, mooed, brayed, whinnied, quacked, crowed, cackled, -peeped, hooted, and cawed, until my throat was raw. He was clearly -entertained, and showed no desire to leave me. At last I came down to -plain English, supposing that my voice undisguised by song would -certainly alarm him, but to my great surprise he apparently did not -associate the human voice with its owner in the slightest degree. In -fact, he now seemed bored by my noise, and went on with his preening. -Suddenly, in moving my foot, I snapped a small twig. Before there seemed -to have been time for the sound to reach his brain, the heron was on the -wing, and I saw him no more that day. - -At 8.30, as I was watching the big tree, a large, light-colored bird -passed close to its trunk and plunged downward towards the deep pool at -its foot. The sound of splashing water was followed by utter silence. -After remaining motionless for several minutes I crawled carefully -towards the bank of the brook. The bushes were thick, and small dry -twigs covered the ground. Their snapping could not be avoided, and just -before I reached a point where I could see the water and the narrow -strip of muddy beach, a heavy bird rose with a great beating of wings -and flew up-stream. I broke through the cover, headlong, but the bird -was out of sight. The surface of the stream was covered with small, soft -feathers, which I gathered together and dried. They appeared to be from -the breast of a sandpiper. Who the murderer was will never be known, -though I presume that it was a Cooper’s hawk. - -My glimpse of this hawk, if such it was, reminded me of an encounter -between a sharp-shinned hawk and a flock of blue jays which I had seen -at the tree the week previous. The hawk arrived when several flickers -were in the tree and hurled himself upon them. They fled, calling -wildly, and brought to their aid, first a kingbird, which promptly -attacked the hawk from above, and then a flock of blue jays, which -abused him from cover below. When the kingbird flew away, as he did -after driving the hawk into the bushes for a few moments, the jays grew -more and more daring in approaching the hawk. In fact they set -themselves to the task of tiring him out and making him ridiculous. They -ran great risks in doing it, frequently flying almost into the hawk’s -face; but they persevered, in spite of his ferocious attempts to strike -them. After nearly an hour the hawk grew weary and edged off to the -woods. Then the jays went up the tree as though it were a circular -staircase, and yelled the news of the victory to the swamp. - -As the forenoon passed slowly by, there were periods when the tree was -empty for ten minutes or more at a time, but generally a flicker, -cedar-bird, olive-sided flycatcher, blue jay, crow, or catbird was to be -seen perched in some part of the great skeleton. At ten o’clock I -shifted my place to avoid the heat of the sun, and to keep its light -behind me. My new seat was in the heart of a tangle of bushes, and as I -looked through the network of their stems I suddenly saw a bird’s head, -motionless. My glass aided me in recognizing the little creature as a -red-eyed vireo sitting upon a twig. Close by it was a second vireo also -perfectly passive. I watched them for a long time, and could see nothing -but their eyes move. It is such moods as this, taking possession of -birds, which make some parts of the day silent, and cause the woods to -seem deserted by all their feathered tenants. Another occupant of the -thicket was a yellow-bellied flycatcher, whose activity in the pursuit -of small insects was tireless. He certainly found enough to eat, for -small insects have been unusually abundant this summer, while birds have -been noticeably scarce near Chocorua. Some species, usually well -represented, have seemingly vanished, and others, quite numerous in -average years, have been very sparingly represented. For instance, the -summer has passed without my seeing either an oriole or a winter wren, -while redstarts and chestnut-sided warblers, usually among the most -numerous species, have been represented by a mere handful of birds. The -supposed local causes of this dearth of small birds are a heavy -snowfall, which occurred the last week in May, and a hailstorm, which -did great damage just in the middle of the nesting period. Unusual -numbers of birds are said to have been killed by spring storms in the -Gulf States before the year’s migration really began. - -At eleven o’clock a flock of small birds moved rapidly across the -meadow, and four of the number passed through my covert. They were a -chickadee and three Wilson’s blackcaps. I wish the latter bird lived -here in the breeding season, for it is a pretty, confiding, gentle -little creature. The departure of these birds was hastened by the -appearance on the lake shore of a young man, a boy, and a dog. The man -carried a gun, and the dog rushed about in an excited way, doing his -best in cur fashion to aid in the hunt. When the trio reached the brook -at the point where it debouched upon the lake sand, the man cursed the -stream for its width, and the boy, in a loud nasal voice, followed his -example. They stood upon the farther side for several minutes pouring -out blasphemy and filth until a sandpiper attracted their attention and -their gun spoke sharply. The bird escaped, perhaps to die in the meadow -grass, and again the two intelligent human beings invoked wrath upon the -bird, the stream, the meadow, the dog, and the gun. Then they crossed -the brook higher up, where it was narrower, and distance covered their -conversation with a welcome veil. As long as the pleasant memories of -that quiet day linger in my mind, so long will there be drawn through -them a black line of disgust at the vileness of the two representatives -of my own species who offered such a contrast to the purity of nature. - -From eleven until one o’clock there was almost unbroken stillness near -the great tree. Now and then some one of the regular residents of the -meadow spoke, a dragonfly buzzed past, a small pickerel stirred in the -brook, or a frog said “_wurro, wurroùh_,” and splashed in the still -water among the reeds. The kingbirds broke the monotony by coming, three -strong, with much noise and fluttering to take possession of the tree. -One of them flew to the sand by the lake ripples and drank. Then all -three came upon the lowest branches of the big tree and looked at the -dark pool below. One flew obliquely against the water, striking it and -dashing a thousand bright drops into the air. He rose chattering and -returned to his perch, shaking himself. I thought he had aimed for a fly -and struck the water unintentionally, but down he went again, making -even more of a splash than before, and presently both the others -followed his example at such frequent intervals that the pool had no -time to smooth its ripples. This odd kind of bathing was continued for -ten minutes, during which time a catbird sneaked down upon the sand and -watched the process silently but with evident interest. Later he saw me -sitting motionless under the bushes, and flew directly at me, turning -sharply just before reaching my head, and making a loud noise both by -striking his wings against branches and by his harsh voice. If his -purpose was to startle me he certainly succeeded. - -The afternoon was clear, still, and warm, and the birds were evidently -drowsy. From two until after four nothing perched in the tree. A -sandpiper amused me by his patient search for food, as he waded back and -forth on the mud over which the brook spread as it entered the lake. For -an hour he confined himself to a space less than six feet square and -worked over almost every inch of it. Much of the time he merely prodded -the mud gently with his long, quill-like bill, but occasionally he -seemed to see something squirm, and then he pursued it quickly and -stabbed more vigorously. Much of the time the water was above his knees, -and sometimes he ran into deeper places, so that it lapped upon his -breast. Twice he plunged his head and neck entirely under water, but his -eyes seemed to need no wiping when they emerged as wide open as before. -Sometimes he crossed his legs and stood like a camp-stool, with his thin -props meeting their equally straw-like reflections in the brook. After a -while a second sandpiper appeared, but his method was to travel rapidly -along the water line, and he was soon out of sight. - -It was not until nearly six o’clock that the tree became really populous -again. Then the catbirds went upstairs on its branches, flickers and -kingbirds occupied its top; a humming-bird buzzed in the face of a pewee -who was perched fully thirty feet from the ground; a sapsucking -woodpecker came and drummed for a moment, and finally a flock of -cedar-birds rested in it for a while as they had in the morning. The sun -set and night breathed upon the meadow. A single cedar-bird remained in -the tip of the tree and drearily repeated his one dismal word. Below in -the shadows the catbirds were restlessly mewing, and as it grew dark the -lament of the hermits joined in the gloomy chorus. The sky was fair, and -rosy lights flowed and ebbed in the clouds. The stars came, and in the -distant pines a barred owl sounded his long trumpet note. A few minutes -after seven, when catbirds and hermits were silent for the night, I -heard a solitary sandpiper whistling at the mouth of the brook. My glass -brought his tiny form to view, and as I watched him, a second tattler -ran along the gleaming sand and the whistling ceased. Suddenly they flew -together as though startled, and the next moment I saw what I had -supposed to be a bunch of pickerel-weed growing in the shallows move -slowly eastward. The object was several rods from the shore, and moving -across the mouth of the brook. Now it glided a few inches, then it -paused. Ten minutes passed before it progressed as many yards. It was -the heron’s ghostly form. When he reached the eastern shore a light -flashed across the lake and a voice sounded. He flew. I rose to go, but -as I crept out upon the sand I turned to take a last look at the tree, -and saw there the heron, standing on a high limb, black against the sky. - - - - - MIGRATION. - - - For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, - - · · · · · · · - - Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, - And flowers put on a fairer hue, - And everything was strange and new. - -The quaint story of Noah’s gathering the animals into the ark is always -linked in my mind with the Pied Piper, and with that strange turn in the -tide of bird life which is called migration. The marvelous music which -charmed the rats and children of Hamelin town must have been used by -Noah to call his creatures into the ark of safety, and it is still to be -heard in the winds of autumn sighing through the Chocorua forests and -calling the birds away to other lands. One day all is calm and serene; -the next, though the sky is just as blue and the sunlight just as warm, -something of unrest is in the air, and the birds are telling each other -the story of the great journey. Songs are forgotten or sung only to -greet the dawn and bless the night; nestlings are trained to flight and -led silent journeys through field, forest, or ether after food; new -scenes are visited, and the weak separated from the strong and left to -die. Then, sometimes by day, sometimes by night, the hosts meet, drawn -together by a force as irresistible and mysterious as magnetism, and -finally the story of the great journey is written in fact once more. - - [Illustration: MOUNT CHOCORUA AND CHOCORUA LAKE IN SUMMER] - -In the August mornings I hear the Swainson’s thrush by the lake. He was -not there a few days before, he was on the mountain-side. He is drifting -southward, slowly at first, but feeling the thrill of the Pied Piper’s -music in his wings. All through the summer I have listened in vain for -the nasal “_quank, quank, quank_,” of the red nuthatch. Suddenly, in -mid-August, I hear it on the mountain, and an hour or two later every -flock of chickadees brings the northern migrant’s call along with the -jolly chorus of “_dee, dee, dee_.” These chickadees, alert, courageous, -tireless, and generous, are the convoys of the warbler fleets. For an -hour the silence of the forest will be broken only by the tiresome -platitudes of the red-eyed vireo, the dry staccato of the harvest-fly, -and the occasional whistle of a hyla. Then, far away, will be heard the -faint “_dee-dee_” of the titmouse. It comes nearer, and presently a -dozen or twenty little birds are seen hovering, darting, flitting, but -steadily advancing, tree by tree, through the woods. Perhaps not more -than one in ten will be a chickadee, yet it is the chickadee which gives -character and direction to the body. The guided flock of easy-going -warblers and vireos, nuthatches and kinglets, drift on, feeding and -frolicking, heedless of what it passes. - -If the observer “squeaks,” or if an owl draws the attention of the -passing birds, the chickadee comes to the front at once, with his sharp -reproving iterations, and his beady eyes snapping indignantly. Along -with him come red-eyed and solitary vireos, nuthatches, golden-crested -kinglets, black-throated blue warblers, Wilson’s blackcaps, young -chestnut-sided warblers, looking puzzlingly unlike their parents. -Blackburnians, with throats aflame; black-throated greens, rich in -spring tints of yellow and tender green; black and white creepers, the -tidiest of birds; the gay magnolias, redstarts, Canadians, and sober -myrtle warblers. Sometimes a single flock contains nearly all of these -courtiers of the woods, while others are composed almost entirely of a -single species, as, for example, the black-throated greens, or the -magnolias. - -In these same late August and early September days the cherry and berry -eaters gather together and travel in flocks. Robins by scores, sometimes -by hundreds, combine with the cedar-birds and flickers and range over -the country in search of food. The flickers feed much of the time upon -the ground among the berry-bushes, casting aside woodpecker habits and -seeming more like starlings. The robins are sometimes with them upon the -ground, but oftener in the wild cherry-trees with the cedar-birds, -stripping bough after bough of its dark fruit. When the flock moves, the -cedar-birds mass themselves and fly for a while as though linked -together. Then, without apparent cause, part or the whole turn about and -fly first this way, then that, perhaps coming back, after a few minutes, -to the point of departure. When a flock of red crossbills do this, they -sprinkle the air and the earth with sweet notes; but the cedar-birds -have no joy in their one chilly whistle, and there is more of aimless, -witless indecision in their flights than there is of romping. Whenever I -come near one of their flocks, I scan them carefully, hoping to detect -the white wing-bars of a Bohemian waxwing among them, yet it is more -than likely that I may watch a lifetime without having the fortune to -see in the flesh one of those rare vagabonds of the north. The roving -habits of these birds and of the crossbills contrast strangely with the -simple steadfastness of the grouse, and the clock-like punctuality of -many of the migrants. Something in that cold past with its glaciers and -ice-crushed continents could explain the present temperaments of the -wandering birds, but we may never know what that something is. Whether -we are to know it or not, it is natural to have a feeling akin to pity -for birds so lacking in home life. - -The winter wren is an amusing little migrant. He seems to have an -underground railway of his own from the grim northern forest straight -towards a milder clime. Like other underground ways, it has breathing -holes, and out of these he occasionally pops his head and sputters at -the observer. Sometimes he appears at an opening in a stone wall and -scolds mankind for picking blackberries or plucking goldenrod; again he -emerges from the darkness beneath a log in the swamp, and bustles about -with the offensive energy of a special policeman. If he travels in -company, the fact is not often made evident. He certainly seems too -crusty for pleasant companionship on a long journey. One late September -morning a winter wren flew into my hen-house and became my prisoner for -a few hours. I placed him in a room and watched his efforts to escape. -He flew with such speed that he made almost as much of a humming as a -humming-bird. He clung to the woodwork, and hid in the curtains, but -finally dropped to the floor and ran about like a mouse, hiding in -corners or behind the legs of chairs. Once or twice I caught him and -stroked his head and neck. He was quiet enough while I touched him, but -the moment my fingers left him, he slipped away out of sight. When taken -out of doors and set free, he darted into the nearest stone wall and was -seen no more. - -Birds of the upper air which feed on insects depart early. The eaves -swallows and martins go while some mothers are still sitting on belated -eggs. Bank swallows, barn swallows, night-hawks, and many of the tyrant -flycatchers have vanished by the time the maples begin to flame upon the -mountain-side. On the 3d of August, 1891, I saw about twenty martins in -the dead tree. They were very noisy, and evidently excited. While -watching them I saw in the zenith what looked like a cloud of insects. -My glass showed it to be a large flock of birds, apparently swallows, -moving in a great circle. After a time all but one of the martins in the -tree flew away and were gone many minutes, the birds in the sky also -disappearing. The martins returned, however, to the one which had not -flown, and shortly after I again discovered the bird cluster in the sky. -After fresh noise and flutterings of wings the martins finally flew, and -no more were seen near the lake that season. Often in an August -afternoon the lake will be apparently without birds, when in a twinkling -the air will be full of graceful forms, and a flock of white-breasted -swallows, barn swallows, or night-hawks will sweep over the blue water, -rise, vanish over the meadow, reappear, fly towards the peak, wheel, -return, and then perhaps speed away, not to greet the fair lake again -until ice and snow have come and gone, and the number of their own light -forms has been sadly diminished in the south. - -A field of buckwheat or other small grain is a magnet in the days when -the birds are wandering. To it come the song sparrows, chipping -sparrows, white-throats, juncos, purple finches, field sparrows, -goldfinches, and bay-winged buntings. They love to linger many days in -the stubble; and when bird music is rare, their occasional songs are -precious to the ear. If the field is approached softly there seems to be -no life hidden in its midst, but suddenly wings whirr noisily, and bird -after bird flies up into the neighboring trees and bushes. Sparrows love -fences, stone walls, and their accompanying growths of berry-bushes and -small trees. The latter are our New England substitutes for the -hedgerows of the Old World, and I believe the sparrow tribe takes as -much comfort in wall and briers as in hedge and ditch. The ditch is more -than replaced by countless brooks, always clear and pure, and the wall -gives shade, shelter, food, and many a comfortable perch. While driving -along the narrow roads, bordered by many a mile of rough stone wall, the -rattle of my wagon wheels startles the sparrows and finches from their -cover. The bay-wing runs along the rut in front of the horse; the -goldfinch undulates over the field, turns, and ripples back; the song -sparrow mounts a bush-top and scolds; the white-throat appears for a -moment in a gap between the bushes and then goes on with his scratching -in the leaves. So they go southward along the dusty roads, or the -borders of dry field and dryer pasture. They are thousands strong, yet -they look to be but a few each day, and the careless eye might think -them always the same individuals from mid-August until Indian summer. - -Sometimes alone, but often with the field sparrows and bay-wings, or -later with the juncos, flocks of bluebirds travel the autumnal way. This -year, on August 28, I saw a flock of twelve working slowly along a -moor-like pasture ridge in company with double their number of sparrows. -I have seen them by dozens in early October mingle with juncos and -white-throats in gleaning over the stubble just left bare by the melting -of a first snowfall. As they fly from spot to spot, they prefer to -alight on the upper curve of a boulder, the tip of a cedar, or some -equally favorable point for seeing and being seen. They are -comparatively silent, but now and then their sweet “_cheruit_” comes as -a promise that after the long winter spring shall return, and with it -their loveliness and courage. Many of the birds go south cheerfully, or -indifferently, but the bluebirds seem to linger sadly and lovingly, and -to feel that the migration is an enforced exile from the home they love -best. - -The Chocorua country is not a good one for starlings and blackbirds; in -fact, I have never seen but one bobolink nearer than Fryeburg -intervales, twenty-five miles away; and with all my watching, no crow -blackbird or meadow lark has ever caught my eye in this region. The old -residents say that years ago, when flax was cultivated hereabouts and -grain-fields were broader, these birds were present in large numbers. -The first flock of rusty grackles which I have ever seen here appeared -this year on a hilltop, about the middle of the afternoon of September -22. The birds were either very tame or very weary, for they remained in -the tops of some locust-trees, while I not only stood beneath them, but -shook their tree, called to them, and clapped my hands. They maintained -a steady flow of _sotto voce_ music charming to the ear. - -All migrants are not desirable visitors. An inroad of hawks is far from -pleasant for the birds of a neighborhood, or for other migrants. All -through the month of September hawks abound. They circle round the peak -of Chocorua, seemingly for the pleasure of it. Often a dozen -sharp-shinned and young Cooper’s hawks are in sight there at once. -Sometimes great flocks of hawks pass across the sky, not circling, as -the red-tailed and red-shouldered hawks are so fond of doing, but -sailing straight before the wind like a fleet of mackerelmen running -down the coast wing and wing. I once saw three hundred and thirty -migrating hawks in one forenoon, most of them a thousand feet or less -above the earth, but some so high that a powerful glass only just -brought them into view. The stately progress of these birds, moving many -miles an hour without a wing-beat visible to the observer, is one of the -wonders of nature. The Dead Tree is a resting-place for migrating hawks, -eagles, and ospreys. I doubt not that by night it is used by owls, when -they too move southward as their food grows scarce. - -In several different years I have seen my big blue heron sail away -southward. In each instance it has been about four o’clock in the -afternoon. Rising with slow and dignified flight, he makes two or three -immense circles over the lakes, and then, as though partings were said, -landmarks remembered, and bearings taken, he flies with strong and -steady strokes towards the outlet of the Ossipee basin. This year, in -August, ten night herons visited us at one time, remaining in the -neighborhood two or three days. When disturbed by day, they rose, and, -forming an orderly flock, flew away with military precision. The ducks -and geese are, however, the best examples of well-drilled companies. -Geese are not often seen here, although several were killed this spring -in a small lake halfway between Chocorua and the Bearcamp. Wood duck and -black duck begin to fly past us late in August, but their numbers are -comparatively insignificant, a flock of ten being unusually large. In -October and early November the wind-swept lakes are seldom without -little companies of black ducks, sheldrakes, and their less common -relatives. - -One of the most interesting of migrants is the loon, or great northern -diver. Loons are said to breed in this vicinity on Whitton Pond, and -they are seen now and then during all the summer months. It is on the -edge of a northeast storm in September, when mackerel clouds deck the -sky and the hazy sunlight spreads gold upon the ripples, that the -migrating loon comes with the force of a cannon-ball, and plunges into -the lake’s waters. His shrill laughter is taken up by all the mocking -forests, and his deep and prolonged diving carries consternation to bass -and pickerel. Restlessly he plows the ruffled water with his broad -breast, and now and then he pounds the waves with his wings, raising his -head high above them. When he flies, the water is churned into foam for -many yards before his unwieldy body is finally raised into the air and -placed under the full control of his powerful wings. Then he rises -little by little, his wings moving faster and faster, until, after -progressing half a mile, he has risen two or three hundred feet. -Turning, he comes back, still rising, and passes in review the lake and -forests which he is to leave. Again and again he tacks, on each new line -rising farther from the earth, until at last, seen against the sky, he -is but a pair of swiftly whirling wings set strangely far back on the -long black line of his head, neck, and body. It is said that hunters -have been killed by being struck by falling loons shot by them on the -wing. - -Occasionally a stray sea-bird comes to the mountain lakes. Herring gulls -have been seen on Chocorua Pond, a Wilson’s tern was shot on August 30, -1890, on Ossipee Lake, and a year earlier, on September 30, a black tern -remained half a day on my lonely lake. - -Late in September and in October there are days when the rush of -migrating birds is like the stampede of a defeated army. I recall one -such day, the 25th of September, 1891, when a torrent of migrants swept -past my red-roofed cottage in the hour following sunrise. Before -breakfast, and without going out of sight of my door, I saw over two -hundred birds go by, including sixty pigeon woodpeckers, several -sapsuckers, nuthatches, chickadees, crows, blue jays, robins, catbirds, -seven kinds of warblers, solitary and red-eyed vireos, four kinds of -sparrows, a tanager, pewees, and a flock of cedar-birds. Most of these -birds were on the trees, bushes, or ground, busily feeding, yet -restlessly progressing southwestward, as though haunted by some -irresistible impulse to keep in motion. The day was hot and still, and -my notes mention the fact that we heard the splash of an osprey as he -plunged into the lake, more than a quarter of a mile away. That evening -the whippoorwills were singing their farewells in the soft moonlight. - -As the early October days glide by, these waves of migration come faster -and faster, their acceleration seeming, as one looks back upon it, like -the ever quicker throbbing of the air under the wing-beats of the -grouse. Even as the drumming suddenly ceases and the summer air seems -still and heavy in the silence which follows, so the migration suddenly -ends, and the woods and fields become very still in the late Indian -summer. Now and then the scream of a blue jay falls upon the ear, or a -faint note of a tree sparrow comes from the weeds by the roadside; but -as a rule nature is dumb, and the leaves fall like tears. All the beauty -of sky and autumn foliage cannot bring the birds back to the silent -forest. Warm though the sun may be, and soft the haze on the cheek of -Passaconaway, these charms cannot woo back the birds from their -migration. The music of the Pied Piper has bewitched them, they are -dreaming of gushing waters and flowers of fairest hue; and many a -frosty, starlit night will pass before their wings beat once more in the -clear Chocorua air. - - - - - TRAPPING GNOMES. - - -When the harvest moon is large and the nights clear, I love to spend an -evening hour or two under the great oak-trees on the shore of my lonely -lake. The soft mists creep across the water, bats flit back and forth -squeaking, the whippoorwills call to each other that the time for -migration is near at hand, and sometimes the voices of the barred owls -wake weird echoes in the lake’s curves. Sitting motionless in the black -shadow, I am unseen and unsuspected by the night creatures round me. -Many feet move upon the dry leaves, and the fluttering of wings disturbs -the still air. Measuring the evening from sunset until ten o’clock, it -seems a period of more activity than the day. Hours roll by in the -September sunlight with scarce a sign of life near the lake, but the -coming of twilight is a signal for awakening. High in the oaks the gray -squirrels are busy with the acorns. In the stillness of the night an -acorn falling against one and another bunch of stiff leaves, finally -striking upon the ground, seems to make an unduly loud noise. The fine -squeak of a bat might pass unnoticed in the daytime, but in the gloom it -carries far and comes upon the ear sharply. - -In these hours the ground gives up its cave-dwellers, and their soft -feet rustle the leaves in all the forest and by every brookside. From -the ledges of Chocorua, foxes by dozens descend upon the surrounding -farms and search for mice and other prey. It is the light snowfall which -betrays the great number of these wary marauders, and not the secretive -leaves of autumn, upon whose dry surfaces the fox-tread makes no -imprint. From his den under the screes the hedgehog wanders through the -woods or seeks the orchard. The skunk, too, is abroad, poking his snout -into ant-hills or among mouldering leaves where insects lie hidden. It -is neither fox nor skunk which makes the soft pattering just behind the -old oak against which I lean. A smaller wanderer than they comes there, -and as surely as gnomes have settled in America this must be one of -their haunts. I feel certain of it when a squeaky little whisper follows -the pattering, or when occasionally a tiny form darts across a patch of -moonlight near the edge of the water. - -In these September hunting-days I have left the grouse to feed -undisturbed among the blackberries, and the hare to dream away the -sunlit hours in his form among the swamp evergreens. Gnome-hunting has -been my pastime, and so low is our human estimate of the character and -usefulness of these tiny creatures that my conscience has not given the -faintest bit of a twinge when I have brought home dead gnomes from -field, meadow, mountain, and forest. Our gnomes are not all of one kind, -and when I started with my game-bag in the September sunlight I did not -feel sure what manner of elf I might bring home with me. Setting out -early on the morning of the 12th, I dashed the dew from the brakes as I -crossed an open pasture on the way to my lonely lake. The brakes were -growing brown, yet we had had no frost, and the equinox was still ten -days distant. The sumacs were gorgeous in green, scarlet, and orange, -waiting for the first rain or wind to hurl to the ground half their gay -leaves. As they hung motionless in the sunlight, they seemed brilliant -enough for the tropics. Asters and goldenrod joined them in painting -part of the picture with high colors, and so did the maples on the high -ledges of the mountain where a bear-hunter’s fire raged last October. A -bit of woodbine climbing up the maple trunk gleamed like flames, -mountain-ash berries were full of the same fire, and the clustered fruit -of the hobble-bush glowed in the midst of its maroon and crimson -foliage. - -What means this decking of the earth in autumn with scarlet and purple, -crimson and gold, russet and orange? The flowers of the springtime are -full of joyous color, in order that the wandering bee and butterfly may -aid in their fertilization. The bird gleams with color as the glow-worm -gleams with fire, that his mate may not forget him in the mazes of the -life-dance. The autumn is the season of ripening, of the gathering of -harvests, of the decay of the earthly, and the creation of that which -shall endure. Are these colors only the emblems of death, the garlands -upon the pall, or are they the signals which Nature hangs on high to -call her forces into ranks for the battle against extinction and in -favor of persistent life? Surely the berry which by its brilliancy of -color calls the bird to it, in order that it may be eaten and its seeds -carried afar, is as wise as the flower which by its tints and perfume -attracts the bee and secures fertilization. Perhaps the tree which -blazes with autumn color is avoided by insects whose instinct teaches -them to shun colors in contrast to their own. - -Just beyond the sumacs is the stump of a prehistoric pine. It has lasted -generations since its towering pillar fell and sank year by year deeper -into the soil. Its hard gray walls look as though they might endure half -a century more of snow and sunshine. Gnomes live under that stump, and -the first of my traps was set at their cave archway. Kneeling down -behind the clustering blackberry briers, I could see the archway just at -the head of the opening between two of the great buttress roots of the -stump. Moss was growing at the threshold, ferns overhung the doorway, -and a tiny path led through the grass from the arch into the dry pasture -beyond the briers. Yes, the trap had been sprung, and crushed beneath -its cruel springs was a gray gnome. His eyes were large and dark. His -coat was of soft gray, and his waistcoat snowy. His hands and feet were -very white and his elfin ears mischievously large and erect. The name of -this gnome is quite musical,—_Hesperomys_, the evening gnome. - -In a deep hollow between wooded banks runs the pasture brook. It comes -from the forest-clad mountain-side, and flows to a dark swamp, beyond -which is the lake. Gnomes live by the brook, both in the hollow and in -the swamp. Nine traps were set in the hollow and eighteen in the swamp. -These traps are, with true Yankee originality, named “cyclones,” and -they are nearly perfect as engines of destruction. Upon a small square -of tin are hinged two rectangles of stiff wire, so attached to strong -springs that they naturally lie flat upon the square of tin. One -rectangle is smaller than the other so that it just lies within it. The -trap is set by raising the rectangles until they make a tent-like frame, -and then securing them by a catch. The best lure for gnomes is whole -corn, which is placed near the centre of the square of tin in a tiny cup -suspended by a lever to the catch which holds the trap open. The gnome -steps softly through the wire rectangles and tries to lift the grain -from the cup. Woe to him if he presses ever so lightly upon the side of -the cup, for if it is depressed, and the other end of the lever moved, -the catch is cast free and the rectangles fall together with such force -as to crush any small creature which stands below them. - -The nine traps set by the brook were in groups of three. As I drew near -the first group, I looked for broken twigs and a scrap of white cotton -tied to a branch, my signals to show where the traps were placed. Bent -twigs with their leaves slightly withered and drooping are readily seen -at a long distance. The first three traps were set at a point where the -banks of the brook were steep, and the level moss near the water only a -narrow belt. At one place a mossy log crossed this level, a mouldering -stump crowned with ferns flanked it, and a big boulder raised a wall of -granite parallel with the stream. Just across the brook was another long -log covered with moss, violet leaves, and rue. One trap was on this log, -one by the boulder close to a little hole running under it, and the -third near the mouldering stump. At first as I stood in the midst of the -traps I could see none of them. The corn scattered near had been carried -away or eaten, and the strings by which the traps were tied to stakes -were not where I remembered to have left them. Suddenly I saw one trap. -It was sprung and drawn away among the leaves. Something was in it, -something I had never before seen, a creature more beautiful than any -squirrel, as graceful as a swallow and as suggestive of speed and -lightness. I knelt over this slender, brightly-clad gnome, and released -his lifeless body from the trap. His cobweb-like whiskers were -wonderfully long, his coat was of pale straw color and brown, his -waistcoat of purest white. No monkey has a tail proportionally longer -than the seemingly endless white-tipped appendage of _Zapus insignis_, -this jumping gnome of the mountain streams. Exquisite creature, I -thought, how can I have lived so long among woods and brooks without -suspecting your presence? But for a “cyclone” I might never have known -that such a being existed. - -The other two traps were sprung, one containing a second _Zapus_, and -the third a gray _Hesperomys_. Similar fortune had attended the -remaining traps by the brook, three containing specimens of _Zapus_, two -of _Hesperomys_, and one a large mole with fur as fine as the softest -silk velvet. I pushed on eagerly to the series of traps in the swamp. - - [Illustration: TWO KINDS OF GNOMES] - - [Illustration: Hesperomys] - - [Illustration: Zapus] - -On the way I crossed a strip of level pasture over which a grove of gray -birches is rapidly spreading year by year. Several of them are bent so -that their upper branches sweep the ground. They are victims of the snow -and ice storms of winter, and, unlike the Arlington cedars, they are not -resilient enough to recover an erect position. In the heart of the -grove, a family of sapsucking woodpeckers had been at work in one of -their “orchards.” Eight trees bore marks of their mischievous tapping, -and in the two principal trees many hundreds of holes had been made by -them. Their thirst is as insatiable as Mulvaney’s, but I supposed that -before this time they had wearied of their summer fountains. Not so; one -of them was hitching around the drills, dipping as persistently as in -early July, and bees buzzed near him, enjoying their share of the tree’s -sweets. Restraining my impatience to see the swamp traps, I watched long -for a humming-bird to visit the drills, but none came, thus confirming -my impression that they not only arrive in New England later than the -sapsuckers, but that they migrate southward earlier. - -While I waited under the birches, a gray squirrel came tripping over the -grass and through the brakes. His great brush was not carried over his -back, but in an arch behind him. His approach was so noisy that at first -I thought a dog was coming towards me, but his voice betrayed him. -“_Cluck, cluck, cluck, cleck, cleck, cleck, cleck, clēēk_.” If a -“cyclone” had been choking him he could not have made sounds any more -queer. When at last he discovered me, he lowered his tail and undulated -very softly away. - -The first of the second series of traps was set on the slope leading -down towards the moist bed of the swamp. It contained one of the -white-footed gray gnomes. The next three were empty. Number five was in -the darkest part of the swamp on a huge upturned stump whose twisted -roots, looking like the arms of a devil-fish, reached far into the air. -The trap was sprung, and the gnome in it was as new to my eyes as -_Zapus_ had been. Coarse, chestnut-brown hair, in parts almost as bright -as red mahogany, small eyes, conspicuous ears, and a tail so short that -it seemed only a stump of something more satisfactory, were the -conspicuous points in this gnome. His name, as I later learned, was -_Evotomys_, the long-eared gnome. His rich coloring matched to -perfection the decayed hemlock stump in which he lived, and harmonized -with the brown bark of pines and the stained waters of the swamp brooks. -In the sunlight, or upon the sand by the brookside, he would have been -conspicuous. Where he lay he looked like a fragment of the reddish wood -under him. - -Five more of his tribe, and a tiny shrew, only three inches long, were -found in the remaining swamp traps. One of the gnomes had been nearly -devoured as he lay in the trap, the parts remaining being skin, feet, -tail, and a small portion of the head. I suspected a big mole of being -the ghoul. On my way home I looked in a trap set under a small -foot-bridge which spanned a damp spot in a mowing-field. The victims -here—for two had been caught at once—were of the family _Arvicola_, the -sturdy gnomes of the fields. Their eyes were very small, their ears -almost concealed by their coarse, dark-brown hair, and their bodies -awkwardly but strongly built. They are the farming gnomes. - -On September 17, I walked from Berry’s to the Swift River intervale, -over the once “lost trail,” now nearly completed as a broad bridle-path -and winter road. I took twenty-five “cyclones” with me and set them at -the most favorable spots along the way. Brook crossings, big, moss-grown -stumps or logs, boulders overhanging springs or rivulets, and old -logging camps were among the places which seemed to me likely to be -frequented by gnomes. As I was not to return until the next day, a night -would intervene to give the little cave-dwellers time to smell the corn -and to inspect and spring the traps. - -The intervale was very beautiful as it lay tranquil in the autumn haze, -but the memories of last Christmas-time had a charm about them which -even the foretaste of Indian summer could not equal. Snow adds greatly -to the dignity and grandeur of our New England mountains, making them -more akin to the Alps, perpetual in their wintry covering. Chocorua, -always a reminder of the Matterhorn, is much more like it when clad in -ice, and rose-tinted by the morning sun. Even Swift River, framed in -meadow brakes, waving osmundas, and gay scarlet maples, seemed less -sparkling than when set in ice and overhanging banks of pure white snow. - -As night came, coldness suggestive of winter crept over the great plain. -The first light frost came caressingly in the still night hours and fell -upon the pumpkin vines and the delicate ferns by the roadside, so that -morning saw them wither away and die in the early sunbeams. With the -dawn came many bird-notes. Crows, jays, flickers, red nuthatches, -chickadees, golden kinglets, robins, cedar-birds, and goldfinches all -made their voices heard. In the bushes by the road, Maryland -yellow-throats mingled with various migrating sparrows, and among the -spruces dozens of warblers flitted joyously back and forth, saying -little, perhaps because nuthatches and red-eyed vireos said too much. -Swallows had gone, but grace of flight was shown by hawks of various -kinds which circled, soared, or shot past on even wing. The fickle -crossbills, present a year ago this week in large numbers, were nowhere -to be seen. - -Sabba Day Falls were even grander than I remembered them to be, and -although nothing could surpass in loveliness the icicles, frozen spray, -masses of snow, and other paraphernalia of winter which had surrounded -them in December, their present dress of tender green and brown, -relieved by autumnal colors and crowned by a cloudless sky of purest -blue, was wonderfully fair to look upon, and to lay away in the mind for -weary days when brick walls and English sparrows should replace the -wilderness and its warblers. - -It was high noon when I turned my back on Carrigain and Bear and climbed -the ridge towards Paugus valley. Would the traps be sprung? The question -gave speed to my footsteps, which might otherwise have lagged by spring -or brookside, for the day was meltingly warm and no breeze came over the -Paugus ramparts. The first trap was near the top of the ridge, under a -huge boulder. It was two miles from the nearest house in the intervale, -and more than double that distance from Berry’s or any other inhabited -dwelling in Tamworth. Perhaps gnomes did not live in spots so remote -from man and his grain-fields. The trap was sprung. _Evotomys_ had found -it and perished. The next one was sprung, and a second long-eared victim -lay in it. So with the third and fourth, set at intervals of many rods. -The fifth was sprung, but empty; the sixth contained a gray -_Hesperomys_; the seventh another _Evotomys_. I was now in the deep, -dark valley between the northern ridges of Paugus and Chocorua. Three -miles and a half of the roughest mountain woodland lay between this spot -and tilled land, yet animal life was so abundant that it seemed to make -no difference where I set my traps and scattered my corn; gnomes were -everywhere waiting. - -Out of twenty-five traps, fifteen held victims and six others were -sprung, but empty. One of the slain was a chipmunk, another a mole. Of -the remainder, three were long-tailed gray _Hesperomys_, and ten were -red-backed _Evotomys_. The latter are clearly the most numerous -inhabitants of the dark evergreen forests, but they are also to be found -near secluded farm buildings in spots where the fulvous _Hesperomys_ is -the prevailing sprite. Among these gnomes of the woods and fields, all -true American species, a European intruder is found. In some thickly -settled places he has done among gnomes what the European sparrow has -done among birds, elbowed himself into exclusive possession. When found -in a trap, or seen scampering along the pantry shelf, this gnome is -called, in vulgar English, _a mouse_. - - - - - OLD SHAG. - - -Old Shag, Toadback, or Paugus Mountain stands in the Sandwich range -between Chocorua on the east and Passaconaway on the west. It is better -armed against attack by mountain climbers than any of its neighbors, and -this in spite of the fact that in elevation it is the lowest of the -range. Its defenses consist of numerous radiating ridges covered with -dense growths of spruce and crossed by belts of “harricane,” miles of -cliffs so forbidding as to repel any but determined assault, and ravines -choked by débris of rock and fallen forest. No path of any kind leads to -its top, and when its summit is gained, none of the familiar marks -indicating previous visits by egg-eating, initial-cutting tourists are -discoverable. - -Like most impregnable fortresses, Paugus has its weak spot. There is a -way to reach its southern summit without touching a “harricane,” -climbing a precipice, or struggling through more than a few rods of -spruce jungle. Moreover, on this way the traveler is sung to by one of -the most musical of streams, while his eyes are charmed by the -ever-changing beauties of a series of as exquisite cascades as are to be -found in the White Mountains. It is true that in midsummer the brook is -so reduced in size that its chief charm is seriously lessened, but if -the time chosen for ascent is in spring, autumn, or after a heavy summer -rain, the falls will be found at their best. - - [Illustration: PAUGUS FROM WONALANCET ROAD NEAR START OF LIBERTY - TRAIL UP MOUNT CHOCORUA] - -On the morning of September 15, a party of four persons entered the -“lost trail,” leading from Berry’s to the Swift River intervale. A heavy -rain had fallen during the whole of the preceding day, and Paugus River, -with all its sons and daughters, grandchildren brooks, and -great-grandchildren rivulets, made the forest resound with the music of -innumerable singing falls and rapids. Following the old trail for two -miles, the party reached a spot where a good-sized stream appeared -flowing eastward from the great hollow in the eastern flank of Paugus. -Leaving the bridle-path at this point, and walking nearly due west, the -explorers followed the branch towards its source. As the region was -reported to be thickly set with bear-traps, the party walked in Indian -file, while their leader sounded and punched every foot of moss and soft -leaf mould with his stout staff. The traps used by the hunters on these -mountains are murderous inventions, consisting of two huge steel jaws -lined with sharp teeth. The trap, when set, is buried beneath a layer of -moss. If a bear or man steps between the opened jaws, thereby pressing a -pan which frees the two powerful springs below the jaws, the trap closes -instantaneously, the teeth are locked in the flesh, cutting sinews and -crushing bone. A man thus caught is maimed for life, if, indeed, he does -not die from starvation and pain before he can be released from his -horrible imprisonment. A bear usually drags the trap until its anchor -catches in a tree, or his strength is exhausted. Sometimes he gnaws off -his foot and crawls away bleeding and crippled. The trap weighs from -twenty-five to forty pounds, and although usually marked in such a way -that its owner can recognize it, no name betrays the identity of the -trapper. - -The places chosen by the bear hunter for setting his traps are those to -which a bear is in the habit of going often. On damp and mossy spots the -great footprints of the brute show plainly, and when the trapper is -satisfied that Bruin walks that way habitually, he cuts out a square of -moss upon which the footprint is plainly visible, places his open trap -in the hole, restores the moss with great care, and goes away for a -week, or even longer, visiting other traps, some of which may be many -miles away. If signs of any proper kind were placed near the traps to -warn the passer-by of his peril, there would be small reason to complain -of bear-trapping, but unhappily no such signals are displayed, and man, -if he wanders in wild places, is in as much danger as the bears. The -brook bed which our party of four was ascending is one of the best -grounds for bears in all the Sandwich range. No wonder, then, that we -watched and sounded anxiously for hidden traps. - -As we walked westward into the hollow in the side of Paugus, the ground -rose rapidly and the level land on the edges of the stream soon gave way -to steeply sloping banks. For beech, birch, and maple were substituted -spruce, balsam fir, and hemlock; the rapids of the brook changed to -falls; glimpses of sky were replaced by occasional peeps at -spruce-capped gray cliffs hanging high above us, and we felt as though -if we kept on we should soon enter the black interior of a vast cavern, -unless some unseen avenue to light and air appeared. The barometer -showed that we had climbed nearly a thousand feet, when suddenly there -opened before us a view of a succession of high, steeply-sloping ledges, -polished by rushing water and festooned with delicate mosses. A sheet of -clear and sparkling water, stained a rich hemlock brown by the moss beds -through which it had filtered, poured in quivering folds over the rock. -Standing by the side of the pool at the foot of the lowest incline, we -could see four of these smooth ledge faces rising one behind another -above us. Climbing to their top, we saw as many more still higher, and -beyond them all, twin cascades gleamed through the trees, as they fell -from a ledge in the middle of which a mass of black spruces and huge -gray rocks seemed to form an island poised in the air between the two -halves of the torrent. - -Nearly a thousand feet above this twin fall, yet so close beyond it that -my companions almost despaired of further progress up the mountain, was -a wall of gray rock suspended between the sky and the tree-tops. It was -the last redoubt of the impregnable Paugus. Was there a rift in its -apparently solid face? Yes, I knew that there must be, because years -before I had come down this ravine from the summit and had found no -obstacle to gradual and easy descent. While passing the falls, we used -the barometer to ascertain their approximate height, and found a -difference of two hundred and fifty feet between the level of the pool -at their foot and that of the stream above the twin cascades. The -several inclines down which the water shot in rippling sheets were each -fifty or sixty feet long and about twenty-five feet in perpendicular -rise. With a stream twice or three times the volume of this brook, -Paugus Falls would take rank as among the most beautiful in New England. -Even as they are, they deserve a place in song instead of obscurity in -an almost unknown corner of a pathless mountain. - - [Illustration: CHOCORUA SEEN FROM THE SIDE OF PAUGUS] - -Not far above the twin cascades, the brook formerly shot over a polished -ledge almost steep enough to form a perfect fall. Here a very unusual -and interesting change had been worked in the rock and the course of the -water by the action of frost. Just at the point where the polished rock -bed of the stream was steepest, a crack had opened at right angles with -the current. Of course water had filled this fissure and deepened it -until in some winter night a sound of rending must have startled the -forest and echoed afar down the gorge. The front of the ledge, measuring -twenty yards or more from side to side and nearly half that distance -from top to bottom, broke from its ancient foundation and slipped -forward about eighteen inches, thus forming a perpendicular crevasse -sixty feet long and twenty feet deep. Into this the stream plunged and -vanished from sight. Standing just below the crevasse and looking up the -smooth face of the ledge, I could see the eager water coming towards me, -hurrying forward its amber masses, bubbles, sheets of foam, and yellow -leaves dropped by the ripening trees. As it seemed about to hurl itself -upon me and sweep me down its bed, it disappeared. - -When the water reached the bottom of the crevasse, it turned aside and -flowed at right angles to its course until a fault in the rock allowed -it to steal out into the daylight. The crevasse was full of sounds, and -amid the splashing, gurgling, and roaring of the water, the ear could -fancy that it detected wild cries, sobs, and moans. - -Above this rift and cavern of wild waters came many a rod of steep -climbing. Again and again an impassable cliff seemed to bar our way, but -each time the stream showed us how, by a zigzag or a long diagonal, we -could avoid the abrupt face of the rock and find a way to a higher -level. Finally, after nearly four hours of climbing we found ourselves -in a moist and mossy hollow between two of the summits of the mountain. -Northward the rocks rose abruptly to the wooded crest of the highest -ridge, southward they rose to the dome-shaped ledge which forms the best -height for observation, wind and fire having left it as bald as an egg. -It was impossible to cross the moist hollow dry shod, for at no point -was it less than a rod wide and in parts it was forty or fifty yards -from ledge to ledge. The brown water stood in pools amid the sphagnum -beds and between the stems of trees. Several paths led downward between -the low spruces to these pools, but we shunned them. Human feet had not -trodden them, unless, indeed, the bear hunter had passed that way and -set his traps directly across them. In one place I saw where a bear had -recently walked across the sphagnum, leaving the imprint of his huge -foot clearly stamped upon the moss. - -The view from the dome of Paugus was autumnal in tone. Great masses of -cold clouds were sweeping across the blue sky, urged forward by a -blustering northwest wind. Wherever the spruce growth upon the mountains -was interrupted by deciduous trees, delicate shades of red, yellow, or -russet lay in patches between the sombre tones of the evergreens. In -spots brilliant scarlet maples stood out boldly, but as a rule the new -colors were not pronounced but merely suggestive of the gorgeous -transformation soon to be perfected. In the hollows, especially those in -which “harricanes” had been overgrown by mountain ash, sumac, and -similar perishable wood, the autumnal tints were more prevalent and -stronger. The only flowers upon the mountain-top were a few small asters -with highly scented leaves, and a goldenrod (_macrophylla_) with large -blossoms and coarse leaves. - -Old Shag is not high enough to rival Chocorua or Passaconaway with its -views, but it affords the only really satisfactory chance of studying -those two mountains from a point between them. Chocorua varies strangely -in its outlines from different points of view. From the south it looks -like a huge lion couchant; from the Albany intervale it is an irregular -ridge resembling a breaking wave; from Paugus it seems more like a giant -fortress, with battered ramparts lifted high against the sky. A slide, -invisible from other points, is seen to extend from the western foot of -the peak far down into the forests of the Paugus valley. North of it a -ridge densely grown with old spruce runs from the peak northwestward. It -is one of the few parts of Chocorua not given up to deciduous trees. -Beyond it rises the Champney Falls brook which flows northward into -Swift River. - -Passaconaway from the Bearcamp valley is one of the most perfect of -pyramids; from Paugus it is a rough hump of sinister outline and color. -The spruces upon it grow so thickly that it is hard to force a way -through them, yet they spring from sides so steep that it seems a marvel -that any soil or vegetation can cling to the rocks. A slide of great -length shows its scar upon the eastern face, and serves to emphasize the -fact that this side of Passaconaway is really less of a slope than of a -continuous precipice nearly three thousand feet from summit to plain. In -these almost inaccessible forests several birds from the Canadian fauna -are occasionally found. I have seen there in summer both kinds of the -three-toed woodpeckers; Canada grouse or spruce partridges have been -shot there this autumn, and the moose-bird, or Canada jay, is -occasionally seen near the lumber camps. - - [Illustration: WHITEFACE AND PASSACONAWAY FROM PAUGUS] - -In descending a mountain in the afternoon which has been climbed in the -morning, many new effects of light and shade, color, and even of -outline, are observable. This may be puzzling to the guide who does not -thoroughly know his path, but it is the one redeeming feature in a -homeward scramble to those who are weary enough to regard their second -view of a mountain-side as an anti-climax to the triumphant ascent of a -new peak. Paugus Falls were more beautiful with the pallor of the -afternoon around them, than they were with the southeastern sun shining -into their rushing bubbles. They were whiter and the water consequently -looked greater in volume. Again we wondered how such rare beauty could -have been hidden so long in an untrodden forest, and, wondering, we -blazed the trees so that those who might come after us could follow -without perplexity the easy and beautiful way which we had been -fortunate enough to find. - -When we reached the old trail, about five o’clock, the woods seemed dark -and the penetrating coolness of an autumn night was in the air. Twenty -minutes later we emerged in the blackberry tangle by the abandoned -saw-mill, and found wagons and warm wraps waiting for us. As we looked -back towards the golden sunset, the dark dome of Old Shag stood boldly -out against the sky. Fire and wind had left scars upon its face, and -nature originally made it so rough in outline that “Toadback” is -tellingly descriptive of its shape. Toads have their jewels, and so has -Paugus, hidden in the shadows of its eastern flank. - - - - - MY HEART’S IN THE HIGHLANDS. - - -No matter how tightly the body may be chained to the wheel of daily -duties, the spirit is free, if it so pleases, to cancel space and to -bear itself away from noise and vexation into the secret places of the -mountains. Well it is for him who labors early and late at the desk, if -his soul can thus spread its wings and soar to deep forests, clear -lakes, and rugged mountain peaks, drawing from memory, imagination, and -sweet forecast, something to inspire itself to patient action, and -something to strengthen the heart in its wish to do its appointed task -manfully. As these bright October days slip by and my wheel of daily -duties spins round and round in that granite prison called University -Hall, my memory takes me back to fair Chocorua. I remember the 6th of -October in the year 1884. The sun struggled through soft gray clouds and -gazed upon a world of magical opposites. Every maple in a hundred -townships blazed with scarlet or gold; yet soft and cold, wrapping the -earth from Chocorua’s horn to the sand at the lake shore, the first snow -of autumn sparkled in the rays of the rising sun. Skies of blue, forests -of fire, fields of snow,—those were the delights of that matchless -October dawning. - -If the wheel grows too noisy I come back from these visions to my desk -and its papers, and open dozens of letters from all over our broad -country, from Europe, Japan, Mexico, and from distant India, whence some -Harvard soldier of the Cross writes to ask tidings of his _alma mater_. -In his day every John knew every William, and the roll of the University -never climbed beyond the hundreds. Now the questioner at my side wonders -how near we shall come to having three thousand students this year; -while the prophet declares that in five years or less Harvard will have -distanced Cambridge and Oxford, and become the greatest English-speaking -University in the world. Even now her students do not all speak English. -Aside from the scores of American youths who hear only light-weight -silver dollar English at home, and who learn little that is better at -school, there are many who come to Harvard from far-away foreign homes. -The tall Bulgarian with his dark eyes full of poetry and fire; the -patient Russian Jew, exiled from a cruel land, and struggling night and -day to win an education and a fortune in the home of the free; the -dashing young Norwegian, with winning, deferential manners and a light -in his blue eyes which speaks of his own glaciers and dark fjords; the -gifted Japanese, absorbing philosophy or science with such readiness as -to make his slower American competitor blush with shame; the angular -Armenian, with his keen, thin face and nervous hands; the self-possessed -Costa Rican, the moody Icelander and his taciturn but clear-headed -neighbor from Newfoundland,—all are beside me taking turns with their -American fellow-students in hurrying my wheel until the day is done. - - [Illustration: CROWLANDS, FORMERLY THE OLD DOE FARM] - -When the day is done, and pale sunset colors lie in the sky behind the -witching iron tracery in the great western gateway, my soul goes -northward again into that other October when the early snow melted, and -the winds blew in the fair Chocorua land. I go back to a gusty afternoon -when we rowed our boat the length of the lakes and landed upon the -silent shore of the old Doe farm. It was our first visit to the white -sand of that beach, to the little footpath leading upward through the -orchard, and to the tumble-down cottage with its huge chimney, in which -the swifts had found no smoke for twenty long years. Our first -visit,—yet now the anchor of life is so strongly fixed on that shore, -and the family fairies so firmly domiciled on that hearth, that our -first voyage of discovery seems as far off as the time when “Kit -Colombus sailed from the Papal See.” - -We wandered through the rooms of the cottage, peeped at the sky through -the cracks in its roof, noted the pewee’s nest on the wainscoting in the -east room, and whirled the old flax-wheel which stood in the dark attic. -Then, passing the ancient maples behind the great barn, we strolled on -and on through the pastures until a faint path led us to the lonely lake -among the dingles, almost at the foot of Chocorua. Softly descending the -steep path to the edge of the green water, we saw five black ducks rise -from the lake and fly from us over the oaks. The rush of their wings is -in my ears to this day, and my eyes recall the clouds which loomed over -the peak and swept down upon the lake, bringing much cold wind and a -little rain. From the storm-clouds a small hawk came circling down -towards the troubled water and tossing birches. As he soared above us, -seemingly protesting against our coming into the charmed vale, I shot -him. The strong wings gave one spasmodic beat, the fierce head fell -forward, and the body shot downward and struck the sand at our feet. We -had claimed dominion by force of arms, and when we next saw the lake, it -was ours in law. - -The wheel turns fastest in the University prison house when pale boys -and gaunt young men come to me with confidences of their life-long hope -to come to fair Harvard, of mothers’ sacrifices, and fathers’ toil, of -the parson’s chiding against the influence of the non-sectarian college, -and the schoolmaster’s prophecy that Cambridge will be all proud looks -and cold hearts, and finally of their own determination to work their -way through, no matter what the cost in comfort and energy. It is the -same soul-stirring story, whether it speaks from the butternut-colored -coat from Georgia, the coarse gray homespun from Cape Breton, or the -shiny, long-tailed black frock from Nebraska. Beseeching, honest, or -searching eyes look straight into the heart, and the heart would not be -good for much if it did not grow warmer under their scrutiny. Generally -all except the least useful and adaptable of such men find ways of -earning much of that which is needed to keep them decently clad and -safely fed during their years of study; but it is anxious work starting -them on self-support, and helping them to drive away homesickness. - -There is a feeling of gritting sand and the lack of oil in the wheel -when purse-proud, over-dressed, loud-voiced, tired-eyed youths drift to -me in their attempts to escape parts of their college duties. They have -come from shoddy homes to mix shoddy with the honest stuff of Harvard -life. It would be better for them, for us, and for all their associates, -if they never set foot on scholastic ground. Still they serve as a foil -to the noble-hearted men of wealth who are the glory of a college,—men -who are strong in their willingness to aid others, pure in heart, active -in body, loyal to the ideals of the University. - -One reason that the wheel of duty turns hard is to be found in the -multitude of human atoms pressing against it. The present system of -college government was well adapted for the management of five or six -hundred men, for it is an easy task for an officer of keen sympathies -and a good memory to carry even more than six hundred men in his mind, -and to know their faces, names, and general record. Now that the six -hundred have become two thousand, and the same system is applied, each -officer being expected to know something of every student, the memory -gives way, interest weakens, and discipline through acquaintance becomes -impossible. Here and there individual students stand out conspicuously -and become well-known figures in the crowd; but it is more likely to be -through their success in football than in their studies. The man who -attains “Grade A” in all his studies may be dull-eyed and dingy; but the -half-back on the university eleven cannot fail to have in him some of -the qualities of the hero. - -On the football field of a Saturday afternoon I am less likely to let my -thoughts wander away to Chocorua than when at my desk. Something akin to -the wild north wind seems surging down old Jarvis when the crimson -rush-line guards its bunch of ball-carriers as they fly round the left -end, blocking, interfering, sweeping down opposing arms, hurling -themselves against crouching tacklers, and finally falling across the -line for the triumphant touchdown. That Chocorua north wind is as -irresistible in its way, when in October it hurls itself from the -mountains and lashes the lake till foam flies in white masses over the -crests of the breaking waves. Such winds often arise suddenly, and in a -moment change the placid water, full of its reflections of gay forest -and lofty peak, into a turbulent mass of waves. I well remember a soft, -hazy morning when we rowed a heavy flat-bottomed boat to the northern -end of the lake, returning about noon. When in the middle of the pond, -the wind caught us, and, turning the boat sideways, drove it towards a -shallow cove lined with boulders. Every wave dashed spray and water over -the gunwales, and the most vigorous rowing availed nothing against the -furious wind. It was not until I could jump overboard in the shoal water -and push the boat before me out of the wind that I really regained the -mastery of it. - -About the middle of October a vast regiment of birds passes over the -Bearcamp valley. On the 13th of October, 1889, I counted and recognized -488 birds. Of these, 173 were crows, flying from the northeast towards -the southwest in two great flocks. They passed far above the forests, -many of them being much above the tops of the highest mountains. On the -same day I counted 143 juncos, which were peppered all over fields, -roads, small thickets, pasture bushes, and woods of small height. -Wherever we strolled the little cowled heads turned to watch us, or the -white V-shaped tail-feathers flashed as the juncos flew from us. The -white-throated sparrows were almost always with them, coming, I doubt -not, from the same breeding-grounds, and bent upon reaching the same -winter-quarters, or havens even farther south than those which juncos -like. Now and then a white-crowned sparrow is to be seen among flocks of -this kind. Those who watch for them are apt to see many white-throats, -which they try to persuade themselves are the rarer species, but when -the eye at last rests upon a white-crown there is no doubting his -identity. - -The golden-crested kinglets were present in great numbers on the same -13th of October, 1889, and as they passed through the evergreens they -accomplished a marvelous amount of effective house-cleaning. With them -or near them chickadees, red nuthatches, white nuthatches, and brown -creepers took part in the keen inspection of the trees, and woe came to -the insect which fell under their eyes. - -Among the other birds which I recorded that day were robins, a hermit -thrush, bluebirds, yellow-rumped warblers, solitary vireos, a flock of -thirty-five goldfinches, a good many sparrows of various kinds, blue -jays, one or two kinds of woodpeckers, several hawks, and a flock of -black ducks. They formed the rear guard of the grand army, and as the -leaves rustled down over them it was easy to imagine snowflakes -gathering in the northern clouds and waiting for a summons to begin -their soft descent upon the abandoned earth. - -Bird voices sometimes mingle with the hum and roar of my duty-wheel. -Opposite my office window are two tall pine-trees, almost the only -evergreens in the college yard. These trees swarm with the alien -sparrows, whose clamor at times is almost deafening. Better three months -of utter silence than such bird music as this. Each year, as autumn -deepens into winter, I watch the immigrant sparrow to see whether he is -not learning that migration southward in the season of snow is wise and -comfortable. He does wander somewhat, already, when food fails, and it -will not be strange if, as years pass, he should acquire by sympathetic -vibration something of the swing of the migratory pendulum. - -When I walk slowly home from my office past Christ Church and the silent -field of quaintly lettered stones, past the old elm within whose shade -Washington took command of the Colonial army, and past Cotton Mather’s -gold chanticleer holding high his ancient head against the rosy -afterglow, I seem to see beyond all these things the crouching lion of -Chocorua. Waking or dreaming, the outline of that peak is always stamped -upon my northern horizon, and the north is the point to which my face -turns as surely as does the needle, whenever my face, like the needle, -is left to settle its direction in accordance with its controlling -affinities. In these October days the picture of Chocorua which haunts -me is not a summer picture. Far from it. In it the leaves are falling, -drifting down like snow, birds are silent, nervous, always on the alert -for danger; new ledges show upon the mountain-sides, new vistas have -opened through the forests, and spots which, when behind their August -leaf mantles seemed dark and secret, are now as open as the day. The -brooks are more noisy, and easily seen, the grouse fly afar off; if one -wishes a flower he must pluck the witch-hazel or let the bitter yarrow -or the last clusters of goldenrod and asters satisfy him. Nature seems -preoccupied and inclined to tell the visitor to see what he wants, and -to take what he can find, but to let her alone. - - - - - THE VINTAGE OF THE LEAVES. - - -Friday, October 21, was observed by Harvard University as a -holiday,—Columbus, while hunting for something else, having on that day, -four hundred years ago, rediscovered America for the Europeans. On the -same day, four hundred years ago, the Americans discovered Columbus, a -weary and worn mariner, nearing the shore in a small and feebly-rigged -ship. At that time America was much more of a boon to the explorer than -he seemed likely to be to the continent. - -I left Cambridge about the time the sun reached it, and gained the -valley of the Bearcamp at 1 P. M. There are some days in the year which -seem to have happened upon the wrong calendar day. They are too cold or -too warm to keep company with the days which go before and after. This -was not one of them. It was a model late October day, with clear air, a -rushing wind, dark blue-gray clouds moving fast across a pale blue sky, -leaves flying before the wind, and with ruffled water full of cold -lights, though in spots increasing in its reflections the blue of the -sky. Marvelous colors were spread upon the face of the meadows, and -crept up the sides of the hills. The world was in gay attire, gayer even -than the towns this day decked out in honor of the Genoese. - -Gazing out of the train window, I have seen the Sandwich range from afar -over the melting greens of spring, the rich verdure of summer, and the -cold, still snow of winter. To-day I saw it framed in russet and -carmine,—the colors of the oak-clad hills of Wakefield. The peak of -Chocorua was capped by a dark slate-colored cloud from which rain seemed -to be falling. Behind or above the other mountains of the range the same -threatening vapors hung. As the train sped onward, past Ossipee Lake, -over the Bearcamp, and up to the West Ossipee station, the clouds rolled -away and a flood of clear sunlight poured its revealing rays into the -hidden colors of the distant forests. From cold, dark masses in which -black rocks were no darker than gloomy groves, the mountains’ sides -suddenly became aglow with warm tones. The far-reaching view suggested a -painter’s palette, upon which he had been daubing his colors from the -tubes. Here he laid on a mass of dark green, there crimson, and next to -it pale yellow. Then buff and orange, scarlet and blood-red pleased him, -and he rubbed them upon spare areas. Cobalt and ultramarine added here -and there, with now and then a dash of silvery white or a broad band of -burnt sienna, served to make the scarlets more intense and the yellows -more aggressive. - -Driving in an open wagon from West Ossipee to the Chocorua House, I -found a heavy overcoat, warm gloves, and a fur robe essential to -comfort, especially on coming from the steam-heated cars into the racing -northwest wind. As we sped through groves and across meadows, my eyes -devoured the wonderful coloring of all that had once been green. I could -see nothing else, think of nothing else. The contrast to our summer -coloring could not have been much sharper if I had been transported to -the sanguinary groves and pastures of the red planet Mars. Even the -birds which rose from the roadside and whirled away before the wind -seemed less interesting, so absorbing were the marvels of coloring in -foliage from ancient oak to tender grasses. A flock of birds seemed to -dance through the sunlight across the road, yet when I looked after them -they were only beech leaves hurried along by the wind. A cloud of -leaves, picked up by an eddy of the air and tossed high above the trees, -suddenly became bluebirds and sparrows speeding away from the wagon -across the pasture. Crows, few in number, and unusually wary, were not -so easily mistaken for leaves, nor were the robins, which occasionally -rose in flocks from the grass and sought the branches of leafless maples -or butternuts. - -After a hasty dinner I left the hotel and crossed field and copse to the -outlet of the Chocorua lakes. The third lake, with its deep, dark water -and its grove of lofty white pines shutting it in from distant views, is -one of the most daintily lovely nooks in this region of beauty and -grandeur. Crows love the dark pines, wild ducks float in their shadows, -and many a mink has been trapped at the end of the dam. I found no life -stirring in woods or water, so stepping cautiously along the mouldering -logs of the dam, I gained the farther shore and crossed a broad, -rock-strewn pasture, once covered by a growth of lofty pines. I know not -how many years ago they fell or were felled, but this I do know, that -scores of pitch-soaked knots are hidden in their ruins and among the -ferns and bushes which have sprung from the decaying stumps. Many is the -winter evening in town that I have sat by the fireside and gazed into -the red flame of the blazing “light-wood” gathered in happy October days -from this old pasture. As the pitch grew hot and burst through the dry -wood, whining and whistling, blowing out long jets of white smoke and -slender tongues of flame, its voice and warmth have carried me back in -spirit to the brown beds of fern, the busy chipmunks under the old oak -in the wall, or to the mayflowers gathered in spring from the edges of -the lingering snow-banks. I passed a ledge of rocks on which I had seen -a woodchuck sunning himself last August, and I recalled how he had -squeezed himself into a little cave in the ledge only to find me peering -in after him, and quite able to reach him with a stick. His method of -escape from me was characteristic. Grunting and snarling, he spent half -his time in threatening to come out and attack me, and the other half in -undermining himself and poking the earth with his nose into the hole -through which I was looking. In five minutes he had completely covered -the opening and sunk his plump body out of reach of my probe. Later in -the season I had a young woodchuck which had been partly tamed escape -from captivity by gnawing his way through a thick pine board. The same -individual repeatedly climbed up six feet from the floor on the coarse -wire netting which formed the front of his cage, so that in future I -shall not think it strange if I see a woodchuck climb a tree. His -eccentricity also carried him to the point of devouring nearly a third -of the carcass of a freshly-killed red squirrel, although an abundance -of clover and young vegetables were close at hand ready for his dinner. - -My walk took me up the western side of the lake to my own land and -cottage. Robins rose from the ground in small flocks, a few tree -sparrows and juncos flew from a plowed field by the wall, and two crows -were feeding on swampy ground by a brook. It was to them that the land -really belonged, not to me,—a waif from the city. So a flock of -white-throats thought, as I disturbed them feeding upon the chaff at the -back door of my barn. They flew into a bush on which a few dry leaves -swung. While still watching them, as I supposed, I discovered that they -had vanished, the wagging leaves alone remaining. In the orchard a few -red apples hung, and gleamed like polished stones. One which grew upon a -wild tree in the edge of the wood swung near the ground, and sharp -little teeth had bitten out pieces from its side. Some of the fruit -which lay upon the ground had been gnawed away until its seeds could be -reached. Man eats the pulp and throws away the seeds, the mice and -squirrels waste the pericarp solely to gain the seeds. Perhaps in this -case man would have thrown away both apple and seeds had he tasted the -bitter, wild fruit. - -The lake was lower by a foot than I had ever before seen it in the -autumn. In August it had washed the bushes on its dikes; now a yard or -more of sand tempted a stroller to follow its fair rim past wood and -meadow. Along my shore of the lake the natural dike is in places fully -seven feet high. It has been made during the centuries by the “thrust” -of the ice which results from the expansion of the ice-field by day -following its contraction by night. On a sandy shore the expanding ice -pushes up a little ridge of silt, and works it higher and higher as the -ice mass rises during the winter. If the edge of the ice meets an -obstacle, it is apt to break at a foot or more from the shore, and the -pieces, still carrying their load of gravel, are shoved up the bank to -its top, until, as years roll by, the dike is made too high to receive -further additions. - - [Illustration: TWILIGHT ON THE LAKE] - -The lake in summer is certain to be stirring with life. Insects upon and -over the water, fish, frogs, birds, muskrats, and often large animals -are in sight and moving both by day and by night. Now, as the waning sun -grew pale behind the birches, no living creature moved. The yellow -leaves drifted out upon the breeze, and kept on drifting across the -ruffled water. Nothing cared where they drifted. They were dead, and -just then all the world seemed full of falling, drifting leaves, with no -one to notice them or care for them. Were they to blame for the feeling -of sadness which crept over me as the sun went down and the first chill -of night came into the air? Or was it the absence of those who might, -had they been by the lake, have enjoyed the placid twilight with me? No -lights gleamed behind the closed blinds of my home, no fire crackled -upon the hearth. Those whom I loved were far away in the city. Leaves -were falling in the city, birds had fled from it as well as from the -mountains. Chilly night had fallen there too, and with it came, not the -sweetness of clear streams and pine groves, but the foul breath of the -Charles and of Alewife Brook, open sewers of filthy towns. No, it was -not the sadness of the season or the influence of drifting leaves which -cast a little shadow over my enjoyment of the exquisite scene before me. -It was regret at being alone in its presence and of having to leave it -so soon in favor of desk and drudgery. - -At ten minutes past five, planets sparkled in the silvery sky, yet a -mile away the colors of oaks and poplars still burned their way to me -through the clear air. As I walked back to the hotel, I noticed more -clearly the number of trees which had lost their leaves. By daylight -they were inconspicuous, flanked and backed as they had been by -evergreens and trees full of showy color. Now they reared their skeleton -arms against the sky, making some parts of the way seem as desolate as -in winter. Many of the goldenrods, asters, and immortelles contributed -to the wintriness of the scene, for only dry white phantoms of their -once cheerful flowers remained upon their stalks. The soft air with only -a trace of cold in it belied these signs of winter, and so did the -occasional note of a locust. From the little rustic bridge between the -large and second lakes, the evening view of the mountains was -bewitching. If a hermit thrush could have sung even one phrase of his -holy music, I might have felt satisfied; but no bird was there to sing, -and only the waves lapping upon the pebbles and the breeze sighing in -the pines broke the silence of the starlit night. A leaf came sailing -down the lake and passed under the bridge. Its little life as a green -leaf was over. It had served the tree which bore it, and now its parched -body was given to the stream to be borne away wherever wind and current -decided. Was it, then, dead for all time? Ask this of the coal which -glows in the grate, the oil which burns in the lamp, or the mayflower -whose roots spread through the leaf mould in the forest. Where was this -leaf a year ago, or a century ago? As certainly as the parts of this -leaf have endured thus far, so certainly will they continue to endure in -ages to come. It seems equally sure that if there is a something in me -which will not and cannot in time be made into leaves to wither and go -down-stream with the wind, then that something will necessarily have as -good a chance as the leaf to go down a stream of its own and bring up -safely where it can be used again in endless cycles. - -The voices of young chickens awoke me next morning, and mingling with -their melancholy peeping came the wailing of a northeast wind as it -struggled through a window crack. Bed was warm and my watch said it was -only six o’clock. I peeped through my blinds and saw that the piazza -roof seemed to be shining with rain. Nothing but the momentum of a -previous determination to open my shutters led my finger to press the -snap and let the wind swing the blind from me; for by the dismal shining -of the rain my mind had been completely robbed of any wish to see the -sky. The blind slammed against the clapboards and a bewildering sea of -color surged across my vision. Instead of a waste of gray mist and dull -wet field, I saw six mountains set against a silver sky; and rolling -from them towards me, line after line of wave-like wooded ridges and -pasture slopes, each more brilliant in coloring than the last. The -sunlight was just touching a solitary cloud which floated feather-like -above Paugus, and a delicate sea-shell pink suffused it. Some of the -same radiance fell upon the granite peak of Chocorua, floated over the -highest ridges of spruce-hung Paugus and Passaconaway, warmed the naked -shoulder of Whiteface, and touched even the dark head of the Sandwich -Dome rising from the Pemigewasset forests. The flanks of these mountains -and the whole of Mount Whittier, which rose in the southwest, were -violet. A moment before they might have been dark purple, but now the -rosy rays of dawn were stealing down them swiftly. I had scarcely time -to note the wealth of suppressed color which lay upon the wave-like -hills between me and the mountains, or to spring to my north window, -fling its blinds wide open, and see the lake so ruffled by the wind and -so hidden from the coming dawn as to be only the quicksilver side of the -mirror, before the sunlight began creeping down the mountain-sides. - -It is a pretty sight in the twilight or darkness to see a rosy edge of -flame play along the margin of a sheet of burning paper, slowly -devouring it. Some parts of the paper burn more brightly than others, -but the whole line of advancing fire is beautiful and animating. So it -was with the line of sunlight slowly passing from the rosy crests of the -high mountains, downward, with even march across their flanks, their -projecting spurs, then the nearer hills, the lake, and river hollow, and -finally over the great reach of woods and field nearest to me. In summer -nearly the whole of this wide landscape is green or grayish green. In -winter it is white, grayish brown, and dark green. Early autumn dots the -woods with vivid points of scarlet and gold which stand out sharply from -the mass of green; but as the sunlight crept downward over this late -October foliage the prevailing color, which glowed forth full of -strength, warmth, and meaning, was red,—the red of dregs of wine, of -iron rust, of sleek kine, of blood. Intermingled with it were bits of -golden or of sulphur yellow, marking birches and poplars, and in the -pastures a few maples late in turning blazed with fiery scarlet as their -fellows had weeks earlier. - -The warmest of the color came from the oaks, but the beeches supported -them with generous pigments, and so did the masses of blackberry vines, -choke-cherry and huckleberry bushes, and other small shrubs which had -turned crimson, red, or madder-brown under the October sun. Sweet-fern -bushes, brakes, ferns, pine needles, many of the grasses, and most of -the fallen leaves constituting the greater part of the earth’s carpet, -answered the sun’s greeting by showing broad expanses of brown, ranging -from burnt umber to dark straw color. - -Near the lake were many pines, and as the light reached them they seemed -to grow higher, broader, nearer, and to shed into the surrounding air -something of their steadfastness and strength. They change not, falter -not, fail not, come what may to their deciduous neighbors. In this -northern land they are a symbol of constancy and faith. No one can look -at a pine-tree in winter without knowing that spring will come again in -due time. The lake itself soon shared in the flood of color brought out -by the sun. Most of its surface was ruffled by the breeze, but at points -where the high pines sheltered the water and left it rippleless, the -mountain-sides mirrored themselves, and the reflection was red like -wine. - -As the sun rose higher above the hill behind me, and cast its rays -against the west, more and more from above, and less from a level, the -colors in the landscape became less vivid, and leafless trees, birch -trunks, and softer tints in general, blended with the maroons and -browns, toning them down and flattening them, until the prevailing -coloring on the mountain slopes became like the bloom on the cheek of a -plum; and even the brighter, stronger tints in the nearer view grew -softer and dimmer. - -After breakfast I climbed the ridge behind the Chocorua House and sought -a small beech grove on its crest. In the pasture one of the hawkweeds, -two goldenrods, autumn buttercups, yarrow, the red and the white clover -were still in bloom, sparingly, of course, and only in warm corners, but -still clinging bravely to sunlight and life. Crickets and small green -locusts were active and noisy. They frequented hollows in the pasture -surface, where beech leaves had blown and lodged among the dry and -matted fern fronds. Lying in one of these hollows, which made a warm dry -cradle, I watched the locusts hopping from leaf to leaf, crawling along -the warm faces of lichen-crusted boulders, and now and then working -their bent legs up and down, while their fine, strident music fretted -upon my ear. Some were green, some brown, both large and small, some -almost buff, tiny, and very agile. They were not the only insects -enjoying the sunlight, for spiders, house-flies, now and then a bee, -small, gauzy-winged flies, and many a queer and, to me, nameless thing, -with nervous antennæ, passed that way by wing or foot. At a spring in -the woods where I drank of icy water, countless hosts of springtails or -bristletails skipped, in sprightly humor, over the leaves and the -surface of the pool. About noon I saw a dragonfly dart past, and later a -solitary ant crawl slowly across a patch of sand. No butterflies came to -me, yet they were still abundant in Cambridge. - -There was no chill in the air which surged over the hilltop. It was soft -and caressing, yet so cool that thick clothing or constant exercise was -needed to keep warm. Its perfect dryness made it seem less cool than it -really was. The sky was wonderfully blue, and it lent its marvelous -color to the lake. I have a friend who says that March water is bluer -than any other. It certainly carries its blueness straighter into the -heart than any other, but as I looked at Chocorua Lake from the hilltop -it seemed to me that it could not be any bluer than it was, framed in -glossy pines on the one hand, and in golden brown and wine color on the -other. The wind was rough with the lake this morning. Striking it -suddenly at the far north end, near where my well-loved home stands -silent and deserted in the old orchard, it darkened the clear blue into -angry flaw-lines and hurried them down the long mile towards the bridge, -against which it hurled them in white-capped waves. I laughed as I -watched one of the white-edged squalls pass down the length of the lake, -for it reminded me of a day in mid-winter when I attempted to cross the -lake near its middle, carrying my pet owl “Puffy” perched upon my -gun-barrel. A squall came over the white ice, bearing stinging snow-dust -in its van; it caught Puffy from his perch and set him down upon the ice -with feet helplessly spread, and then as he opened his wings and tail -and struggled in the breeze, it spun him southward, sliding and rolling, -poor wisp of feathers that he was, until he was landed, more dead than -alive, in the woods on the southern shore. - -The pines below my breezy hilltop tempted me by their music into their -aisles. Under them was spread the new carpet of their needles, dry, -warm, and tempting as a couch of eiderdown. The wind sang in their tops, -oh so sweetly, and it took me back to the moment in my earliest -childhood when I was first conscious of that soft, soothing music. I do -not know when it was, nor where it was, nor how young I may have been, -but I can recall as from an almost infinite distance the memory of a -sudden feeling of happiness at hearing the voice of the pines, and -knowing that it was something kind and soothing. If we are in tune with -Nature, all her music can find a way into the heart and satisfy -something there which yearns for it, and never can be wholly happy -without it. The man who trembles at thunder is more to be pitied than -the poor Esquimau who was frightened the other day by the crash of -orchestral music at a Boston theatre. - -While I listened to the pines a chickadee sang his phœbe-note. It was -but once, but it told of his happiness as he bustled about in the dark -pine wood from which warbler and vireo had departed, and upon which -before many days the first snows of winter are to fall. Brave little -titmice! they are among the sturdiest of New England’s sons. - -In the heart of the pines stands a house. I well remember the gray -autumn morning when three of us, on a Thanksgiving holiday, staked out -its foundation lines in the thin snow and drifted leaves. We tramped -back and forth among the trees, now higher, now lower, then a little to -the left, then more to the right. The peak of Chocorua must clear those -monster pines; that bunch of low pines must be left low enough to give a -free view of the large lake, and finally the young trees rising on the -left must not on any account cover the charming glimpse of the third -lake with its grove. At last we settled the spot, and drove our first -stakes, fingered the long brass tape and drove more stakes. Our hands, -ears, and noses were cold, but it was rare sport settling just where -that new home should be planted among the singing pines. - - [Illustration: CHOCORUA AND DR. CHADWICK’S PINES] - -To this house, deserted like my own sunny cottage, I took my way. -Ascending its steps, I stood within its lofty, granite-walled piazza, as -romantic a spot, with its three arched openings facing westward, as a -screened loggia overlooking fair Maggiore’s azure waves. High above and -out of sight of the road, embowered in the forest, and with the very -essence of the exquisite Chocorua landscape framed in its arches, this -house might well attract me and draw me, even from the singing pines, to -linger the rest of the forenoon above its terraces. Bees and locusts -made music in the sunlight, flaming geraniums bloomed at the foot of the -castle wall, the perfume of sweet peas still in full flower hung lightly -in the air, and upon one of the stone columns of the arches, -morning-glories, unharmed by the several frosts which had wrought havoc -with other tender plants, turned their filmy blossoms towards the sun. -Society with its present habits is to blame for the desertion of such a -home as this on such a day as this, when Nature is at her loveliest. Why -is it that all New England which has brains, money, or philanthropy -thinks the city the one proper sphere for life in all save a few weeks -given grudgingly to rest? The cities are too large, too rich in human -forces. They are debasing our New England stock, draining away the best -of our vitality in their too nervous life. If a third of their -population could be sown into the fallow places in the hill country, -their own competition would become a less fatal flame, and the country -districts, instead of steadily degenerating in physical, moral, and -intellectual tone, would again become prolific in healthy men and women. - -So far as I know, the word “moor” is not applied to any part of our New -England scenery; yet there are dry, comparatively treeless uplands, -wind-swept and dotted with bogs which closely resemble English moorland. -I climbed to the level of one early in the afternoon and strolled along -its rough surface. At the first bit of bog that I struck a wood-frog -jumped across the path. He was listless, and made but short leaps. When -I followed him he plunged beneath a log which lay in the cold mud. -Beyond, on dry ground, a grouse rose noisily from low cover and flew far -before going out of sight. As I crossed some stony ground a mouse ran -from me and hid between two boulders. Blocking both entrances to his -hiding-place with my feet, I tilted one rock away from the other. The -mouse darted first towards one of my feet and then towards the other. He -dared not cross either, for I kept them moving. So he remained trembling -in the middle. He was _Hesperomys_, the deer mouse, big-eyed and -white-footed. I left him unharmed. - -Following the edge of my moor, I came to a little glen which cut deeply -into its side. A few acres of bog fed a little brook that passed through -the glen on its way to the river. The ravine was heavily wooded, mainly -with tall and unusually slender beeches. Descending into this grove was -like entering the halo which the sunlight of Paris, shining through -golden-tinted glass, casts around the tomb of Napoleon in the chapel of -the Hôtel des Invalides. The rushing of the wind in the dry leaves -filled the glen with sweet, soothing sounds; the sun warmed it and -suffused it with radiance; and a deep bed of beech leaves gathered in a -hollow offered a couch too tempting to be passed by. Every sense was -gratified in this abode of music and color, for a faint perfume came -from the leaves, telling of ripening and the fulfillment of nature’s -purposes. At ease in the drifted leaves, I watched the tree-tops bending -before the gusts. One moment the golden roof of foliage concealed the -sky; the next, as every lofty head inclined, wide areas of distant ether -appeared, only to vanish again under the rhythmic movement of the trees. -The gusts kept the air well filled with falling, fluttering fragments of -the golden roof. Hundreds of leaves were often in the air at once, -parting company from hundreds of thousands still upon the branches, but -going to join legions already on the ground, waiting there the soft -tyranny of the snow. - -In the midst of the beeches stood a lofty hemlock. The owner of this -wood had chosen it for his castle. About thirty feet from the ground at -a point where several limbs diverged from the main trunk a nest was -securely fixed. Perhaps an inexperienced eye would have taken it for a -bird’s nest. It may have been a bird’s nest originally. Now the mass of -dead beech leaves heaped upon it and woven into its fabric, making it a -conspicuous object from every point of view, proclaimed it to be the -home of a gray squirrel. Winds may blow, and rain, hail, and snow fall, -but that nest will rest secure against the hemlock’s trunk, under the -thatched roof of hemlock branches. Early in September I found a new nest -of this kind in a large beech-tree, and upon opening it made a -discovery. The compressed green beech leaves gave out a strong, aromatic -odor which I at once recognized as one of which I had often obtained -whiffs in walking through the beech woods, but which I never had been -able to assign to any flower or shrub. - -In the lulls between the wind’s gusts I could hear the tinkling of a -brook at the bottom of the glen. Peering into the gloom below, where -hemlock bushes overshadowed the stream’s bed, I sought for a gleam of -water. Not a drop was to be seen. I descended, following the sound of -the falling drops, and came to a perpendicular ledge at the upper end of -the ravine. There was no mistaking the direction of the music; it came -from the face of the rocks and the pile of débris at its bottom. Still -not a drop of water could be seen. The falling beech leaves had -completely covered brook and fall, pool and rock, but behind their veil -the water went on with its singing. It will do the same, brave little -rill! when snow covers the leaves and ice forms above and below the -snow. The sweet jingling notes will be muffled, but they will be sung -all the same. - -Of course I drank from the brook, sweeping away the encumbering leaves -from the top of the fall to get the water just where it rushed most -swiftly. Not to drink from a New Hampshire brook is almost as much of a -slight as not to bow to a friend, or not to kiss a little child when she -lifts her face for the good-night caress which she thinks all the world -is ready and worthy to give to little children. Refreshed, I clambered -up the other side of the glen and regained the open moorland, and the -glorious, rushing wind. Across the valley the old river terraces stood -out as sharply as steps cut in the face of the hill. To have cut those -fair outlines there must have been more water flowing out of Chocorua -lakes in the olden time than flows from them now. Perhaps in those days -Ossipee Lake washed these very terraces. - -Coming to another deep cleft in the side of the moor, I hesitated -whether to run down one grassy slope, a hundred feet and more, and then -up the other slope, or to go round. Precedent decided me to go round. -About six feet below the edge of the bank a narrow well-trodden path -skirted the ravine, going to its head, crossing at the same level and -following along just below the edge of the opposite bank. Sometimes a -well-turfed bank in a pasture where food is not abundant will be scored -by many paths of this kind, one below another. They are made by the -cattle, for a cow never will go down a steep incline if, without too -great exertion, she can keep her four feet approximately on a level. - -When I gained the southern end of the moor-like ridge, two villages lay -before me, one on the left, the other on the right. One was the home of -the dead, the other the toiling-ground of the living. They can see each -other, and year by year the village on the hill grows larger, and that -in the valley grows smaller. When the venerable village postmaster was -suddenly turned out of office a few years ago against the public wishes, -but in obedience to the infamous “spoils” policy, he was commiserated -with for his hard fortune. “Yes,” he said, “it is hard, but I knew it -was coming, and bless your soul, the time is near when I shall be turned -out of this house too, and told to let some other fellow rotate in and -get warm. But, my friend, there is a house of mine up yonder on the hill -where politics and money don’t count, and when this world seems unkind I -look up there and say to myself, ‘Pretty soon, pretty soon.’” - -While waiting for the mail wagon to come down the Ossipee road, over the -red bridge and up the hill to the store, I plucked individual leaves -from trees and bushes, and marveled over their many ways of changing -from pliant green to crackling brown. One of the most brilliant shrubs -near the road was a blueberry. Its leaves were crimson, tending towards -scarlet, and their surface was as brilliant as satin. The blackberry, -which in some lights seemed as bright as the blueberry, was more of a -wine color, and it had a duller surface. Some of the viburnum leaves -were rich red on their upper faces, but pale below, their mid-vein being -pink, and a greenish tone pervading their under surface. Others, shaped -like maple leaves, were of a singular color,—a kind of pinkish purple. -An oak leaf, plucked from a young bush not many years out of the acorn, -was the color of newly-shed blood in its centre, but many small detached -areas upon it remained green. From a sucker shoot of a poplar I gathered -several strangely effective leaves. One was of sulphur yellow coarsely -spotted with black dots; another was blackish brown with crimson -veinings above, and clear yellowish white veinings below,—a most unique -combination. From an adjoining poplar I picked one uniformly black over -three quarters of its area, but blotched with vivid green near its apex. -Its veins were yellowish white both above and below. The clusters of -lambkill leaves were very pretty. While the upper surfaces of the leaves -were faded vermilion or pinkish salmon color, the under sides were buff, -or very pale sage green. The willow leaves were queer, damaged looking -things, a good deal nibbled by insects and much splashed with dark brown -upon a yellowish olive groundwork. A bunch of violet leaves were clear -golden yellow, while some of the more delicate ferns were nearly white. -Truly the botanists have many pleasant problems before them if they are -ever to ascertain why some green leaves turn black, and others brown, -orange, yellow, red, purple, or white. - -An inspection of the mail led me to walk rapidly back to the Chocorua -House and pack my bag for a return journey to the city. As I drove -southward the mountains, seen across the pine barrens, were veiled in -haze. The wind seemed chiding me for going away so abruptly from this -paradise of color. Again and again I looked back at my favorite peaks -and forests, printing more and more deeply in my mind the recollection -of their noble outlines and remarkable coloring. Finally from the -platform of the rear car I saw them over the Bearcamp meadows, and above -and beyond them, with its cloud-cap just drifting away to the eastward, -Mount Washington, benignantly presiding over the northern sky. Then the -train rumbled across the Bearcamp trestle and the shadow of the Ossipee -hills fell upon us and deepened into night. - - - - - CHOCORUA IN NOVEMBER. - - -In Cambridge, Saturday, the 5th of November, began its daylight in a -driving snowstorm. The long, dry, sunny month of October was, as the -farmers had prophesied, to be followed by a real old-fashioned, early -and hard New England winter. By ten o’clock the warm sun and brisk -northwest wind had dissipated the snow, and bad-weather prophets were -silent. Not for long, however, for at noon the ground was again white, -and as I crossed West Boston Bridge on my way to the train, the Back Bay -was swept by a fierce wind which carried the spray from its gray-green -waves half over the bridge piers, and into the level gravel walks on -Charlesbank. My friends looked at me pityingly when I said that I was -bound for the White Mountains, and asked whether I was not going to take -my snowshoes. - -Oddly enough, on reaching Portsmouth, having traveled to that point -through dizzy myriads of flakes of the stickiest kind of snow, I found -the sun brightly shining, and no snow visible on the Kittery pastures. -Not until we were within sight of the hills which bound the Bearcamp -valley on the south did snow again greet my eyes, and then it was -confined to the highlands. - -My last trip had been such a revel in color that I found myself noticing -tints more than other beauties in the ever-varying landscape through -which the train flew shuttle-wise. A great change had come over the face -of nature in the fortnight which had fled since my last visit. November -was written in subdued tones where October had burned before. The birch -groves were no longer filled with pale lambent flames. Their yellow -leaves had all fallen, and their massed twigs needed the full power of -the sun to show that behind their dull gray shading lurked the subdued -color of the plum. Even darker, and without warm undertones, were the -alder thickets, more black than gray. The larches were still pure gold, -wonderful in their happy contrast to the pines and spruces. The -apple-trees retained their full suit of leaves, sometimes touched with a -golden light, often perfectly green. Under them the grass was generally -as verdant as in spring. Barberries hung in dense masses in their -bushes; the American holly berries blazed with scarlet, and here and -there in the dull forest a gleam of crimson told of a blueberry or -amelanchier bush. As the train whirled across wood-paths, they showed as -yellowish stripes in the forest. The drifted beech leaves gave them -tone. In the gloom of the matted alders, fuzzy balls of soiled wool -seemed to have lodged. They were the flowers of the white clematis, gone -to seed. Somewhat similar but thinner masses clung to the stalks of the -fireweed. - -As the wind swept across a cornfield from which all but the stalks with -one or two flaxen leaves had been stripped, the long leaves streamed and -flapped before the breeze like yacht pennants. In the orchards piles of -red and of yellow apples shone in the sunlight, and when one still -depended from the tree it was as bright as a gilt ball on a -Christmas-tree. - -The oaks still held their leaves stubbornly, but the blood had gone from -them and their color was of tanned leather, deepening in places to a -dull maroon. The dry stubble fields, closely cropped mowings, and rank -meadows were all aglow with evenly spread color. The stubble fields were -purplish, the fields pale yellow, and the meadows deep straw color. -Masses of goldenrod stalks were well named, for they were golden brown. -Their leaves were dull brown. If as the train dashed between gravel -banks I caught a flash of crimson on the sand, I knew that blueberry -bushes had caught root there. - -The daylight faded early, but as the sun sank it poured more and more -color into the hills. Reflected rays danced from the window-panes of -farmhouses on the high slopes to the east of the track. Such glimpses of -isolated buildings have a flavor of home and snugness which no city -suggests. The absence of leaves and the presence of many shadows cast by -the low November sun revealed more clearly than usual the pleasing -contours of glacial hills and their eroded sides. Most of the gravelly -products of the glacier are graceful in outline, composed of easy curves -or gentle undulations. Not only are the sky lines grateful to the eye, -but those which curve forward and back along the line of vision have in -them the element of beauty. The cutting of banks by streams leaves many -a gentle terrace which advances, retreats, now makes a bold front, the -next moment shrinks away in a bow-shaped bay. Ice and water seem to -abhor straight lines, but to love rhythmic motion. Upon a small glacial -mound shaped like a beehive stood a single pine, brave-limbed and -lichen-grown. I have noticed it for years, and something in its pose -always suggests “The Monarch of the Glen,” with head erect and every -sense alert. It was much fuller of animation than the flock of dingy -sheep which at first sight I thought to be moss-covered boulders. - -The sun set not long after four o’clock, and the sky borrowed from it -fleeting rosy light. Then the yellow-white steam from the engine -billowed past my window, and through it shone the blue-white snow, -making the steam seem soiled. As I looked forward at fields which we -were approaching, no snow was to be seen, yet as we passed them and I -looked back upon the northern side of their inequalities they were -wholly white. - -When the lamps were lighted in the car my eyes rested, fascinated, upon -the gilded axe which always hangs above the car door. Significant emblem -of our civilization, which cynically takes unwarrantable risks with -life, limb, and property, in order that man may increase his misery by -perpetually hurrying! - -The gleam of Six Mile Pond told me that the train was in Madison. A -moment later I was standing in the crisp night air knocking for supper -at the tavern door. - -When we say “It is two miles from Madison to Tamworth Iron Works,” we do -not tell the whole truth. It would be better to add, “over the top of -Deer Hill.” For years Madison has gone to Tamworth over Deer Hill, or -else it has stayed at home and wished that Deer Hill was elsewhere. How -long grim devotion to the one occupied farm on Deer Hill will force the -inhabitants of two townships to ignore the fact that a level road could -readily unite them remains to be seen. Deer Hill given back to Charles’s -Wain as the only team enduring enough to travel steadily over it would -be Deer Hill justly dealt with at last. - -At seven o’clock I stood on the crest of this stumbling-block to -progress and gazed at its view of sky and forest. The moon struggled -with eastern cloud-banks. In the north, white clouds drifted over whiter -mountain ridges. Once the peak of Chocorua peeped through its veil and -caught upon its marble sides the radiance of the coy moon. After -following the road to within a quarter of a mile of the Iron Works, I -left it and struck northwestward across the moor towards the Chocorua -House. Suddenly I saw an object upon the level stubble which suggested -danger. For many years I have lived in dread of meeting and being -pursued by a skunk at night. Had the moment arrived? Edging away from -the object, I watched it keenly. Did it move? No. Yes! It was turning -its head towards me and lifting that dreaded tail straight above its -back. Still at least fifteen feet from the beast, I kept steadily on my -way in a semicircle round it. The skunk revolved, keeping his head -towards me, and then I saw his tail snapped forward irritably. I had -reached a stone wall, and, springing upon it, I hooted after the manner -of owls, barked after the manner of dogs, and then fled after the manner -of men. I neither saw nor smelt anything more of the skunk. - -My way took me into the golden beech wood on the border of the moor. The -moon, now free from clouds, shed a soft, dim light into the grove. -Scarcely a leaf clung to the trees, but upon the ground they were heaped -up ankle deep. As there had been crackling ice in all the pools in the -road, it was not wonderful that the waters of the leaf-hidden brook were -very cold. - -An hour after leaving Madison I stood before an open birch-wood fire in -Chocorua Cottage. Not only did its warmth appeal to my cheeks and -fingers, but something in the whirl of its flames and the snap of its -sparks made my heart beat more in tune with all the world. - -The next morning I awoke at six o’clock and at once opened my blinds and -raised my shades so that I could see the mountains both to the north and -to the west. Not a cloud or a suspicion of haze marred the perfect -blueness of the sky or the distinctness of the outlines of hills, trees, -and boulders. The moon was still nearly three hours from her time of -setting, and her light, almost as much as that of the unrisen sun, -contributed to the serene glow which filled the sky and fell softly upon -the sleeping earth. - -There is nothing in nature any whiter than snow, and as the peak and -bare upper ledges of Chocorua were covered by an almost unbroken -envelope of snow, no alpine horn ever gleamed with a fairer light than -that which shone from Chocorua’s summit. Paugus, Passaconaway, and -Whiteface are usually dark by contrast to Chocorua, even in midwinter. -To my surprise they were almost as white as the marble lion itself. -Their spruces were coated with snow, which had frozen in masses to the -needles, effectually covering the dark green by a gleaming surface of -white. - -As the sun neared the horizon, a faint rosy glow came into the western -sky. Then it touched the snowy peaks, leaving them pale salmon color. -Finally it crept down the mountain slopes, changing the silvery gray of -the leafless forest masses into ashes-of-rose color, delightful to the -eye. - -It was a winter landscape, yet as the sun climbed higher into the -cloudless sky, the soft still air was caressing in its warm touch upon -the cheek. I looked curiously at the thermometer, not knowing whether it -would say 25° or 60°. It stood at 30°, a temperature which, with a -Boston east wind and a rainstorm, is quite capable of freezing the love -of life out of one’s vitals. Feeling as buoyant as a cork, I dashed off -after breakfast in search of something high to climb. An overcoat was -unbearable, and my jersey was dispensed with by ten o’clock, leaving me -comfortable in ordinary indoor costume. The air seemed full of -life-giving quality, joy, health, hope. So thought the titmice, robins, -tree sparrows, juncos, and kinglets, all of which were noisy and full of -motion. - -Speeding past the lakes, I stopped for a moment in my own orchard to -lament the death of an osprey which I found at the foot of an -apple-tree, where some hunters had left him. It is fortunate that all -animals have not man’s propensity for killing merely for the sake of -killing. Here was a bird of beautiful plumage, wonderful powers of sight -and flight, measuring only five inches less than six feet from wing tip -to wing tip, practically harmless, and by no means common in these -mountains, yet after being shot merely for love of murder, his body was -left where it fell, to feed skunks and foxes. Small wonder that creation -seems out of joint wherever man’s influence extends. - -My next stopping-place was the lonely lake, now more lonely than ever, -for not a bird flew among its trees, and not a fin stirred in its green -waters. Upon its mossy bank, marvelous to relate, I found three fresh -blossoms of the houstonia. Like the sweet peas at my cottage, the -witch-hazel by the brook, and the tiny sprig of goldenrod picked in the -pasture, these frail flowers had endured frosts by the dozen and a -recent fall of snow which must have buried them several inches deep. -Over them a red maple was doing its best to keep them company, for its -crimson buds seemed as plump and full of color as they ought to be next -March. A flower of another kind bloomed in profusion upon the sand close -to the lake’s rim. It was like frosted silver in sheen, and the sunbeams -loved to play in its beautiful petals. How it grows I know not, but it -comes up from the sand in a single night, rank by rank and cluster by -cluster, often lifting up great masses of sand upon its spearheads. This -flower is the ice flower, whose wonderful armies of needle-like crystals -sprout under the influence of the frost from every damp mass of sand or -gravel, ready to be crunched under foot in the morning as horse and man -pass over the uplifted roads. - -In the first brook which I passed beyond the pond I saw two small trout, -the longer of the two being not over an inch and a half from snout to -tail. They seemed to me to be a little sluggish, or rather a trifle less -instantaneous than in warm months. Two or three green locusts were also -evidently depressed by the cool weather, and they played their tunes -rarely and without much spirit. Listening to them and to the sounds -which the wind made in a bunch of dry brakes, I fancied that I saw in -what quarter the first grasshopper took his music lessons. The rubbing -together of the parts of the withered fronds produced sounds almost -exactly like the locust’s strident playing. - -Taking the Hammond path, I ascended the eastern spur of Chocorua. The -side of the mountain was one vast bed of loosely scattered leaves. Next -spring each leaf will be pressed so closely upon its neighbor that the -veining of one will be imprinted upon the face of the other. Now they -are still free to drift with wind eddies, and to rustle noisily around -the feet of the passer-by. The smell of oak leaves, newly fallen, is -very powerful, and, except as a reminder of autumn walks, too much like -ink to be pleasant. Among the fallen leaves the bright green of -checkerberry, club mosses, and wintergreen showed now and then, while -the dark liver-colored leaves of a goldenrod contrasted with the brown -of the beech leaves. - -I must have climbed fully eight hundred feet from the level of the -pastures before snow began to appear along the path, and it was not -until the line of low spruces was gained that the snow was continuous or -at all deep. No sooner had I struck the snow area than I began to find -evidence of the passing along and across the path of the creatures of -the woods. In five or six places a fox had followed the path for several -rods. Rabbits had crossed it over and over again, and mice even had -recognized it as a thoroughfare and taken laborious journeys in its -drifts. - -A few minutes past noon I reached the top of Ball Mountain, or, as it is -generally called, Bald Mountain. Here the snow lay four to eight inches -deep upon everything except the bare ledges, which were dry and warm. As -I gained the crest, a hawk sailed over me and out into that sea of space -above the valley. What joy it must be to fly, and especially to soar and -float, in high ether, with scarce a muscle moving! Suddenly a plaintive -note fell upon my ear, and, turning, I saw a bird about the size of a -robin flying northward. It soon vanished in the distance, I meanwhile -striving to recall when, where, and from what bird I had heard that sad -cry before. Hoping to see more birds, and seeking an uninterrupted view -of the peak, I climbed to the top of the ledges intermediate between -Bald Mountain and the foot of the peak, and there, upon a broad, dry -face of granite, on the edge of the steep incline which reaches far down -into the eastern hollow of Chocorua, I rested and drew strength from the -perfect peace of my surroundings. - -The only sounds which I could hear, and they were only occasional, were -produced by the fall of masses of snow from spruce limbs, and the -sighing of the breeze in the tree-tops far below me in the ravine. When -the wind ceased, the hush was wonderful. In so vast a space it seemed as -though some voice of nature must make itself heard; but above, below, -northward towards Canada, eastward towards the ocean, southward, where -Winnepesaukee’s waters were too dazzling to watch, and westward, among -the snowy ravines of clustered mountains, all was absolute repose and -silence. Not a bird or an insect was to be seen, and the stiff spruces -were as motionless as the rock from which they sprang. The peak was the -most forceful element in the landscape. It seemed the embodiment of -cold, silent strength. Nine tenths of its surface were pure white snow, -one tenth black rock, whose steep faces or sharp angles refused to hold -the snow. Rising fifteen hundred feet above the ledges on which I sat, -yet being not more than half a mile from me, its massive presence was -not only impressive but oppressive. I felt as though it might fall and -crush me to powder. - - [Illustration: THE PEAK OF CHOCORUA FROM BALD MOUNTAIN] - -Across the eastern valley, filled with its white-stemmed birches and -poplars, rose a forbidding line of snowy cliffs. Of all the buttresses -which prop the peak, this lofty ridge of nude rock is the most -inaccessible and sullen. Now and then a bear is seen traversing its -dangerous faces in search of berries, but man rarely steps upon its -ever-visible but repellent heights. - -Looking away from the sun, all the world was white or gray; looking -towards it, deep violet tones predominated, while from between the hills -many lakes flashed towards me the slanting, dazzling rays of the -low-hanging sun. So dark was the south that I found it hard to realize -that the hour was but one o’clock and the sky cloudless. In six weeks -the sun will be even lower, the violet shadows deeper, and midwinter -will rule the whole of the frozen land. - -When I opened my lunch, a house-fly came to share it with me. -Omnipresent and much enduring insect, for once he was welcome, and I -felt as though a companion sat with me. In the rock upon which I rested -there was a little rift, filled with water upon which floated a -fish-shaped cake of ice. This was my punch-bowl, and never thirst found -sweeter, purer draught for its quenching, than came from that -heaven-filled and frost-cooled cup. I wanted to bless it, but found it -blessing me, for it was much to me, while I was nothing to it. Rift and -rock were there before I took breath, and they will be there centuries -after I am a vanished mote in the sky. Just as I left the ledge, -homeward bound, a bird call rang out sharply. I listened and a low -tremulous song came from the spruces. Sweeping their serrated border -with my glass, I found the birds and recognized them ere they flew, -uttering the same sad plaint I had heard an hour before. They were a -pair of pine grosbeaks, “winter robins” as the farmers call them; one a -male, with his rosy breast, the other his Quaker mate. Flinging -themselves into space, they flew southwestward till my glass could -follow them no longer. - -Passing through the beech woods on my way down the mountain, I noticed -how much more firmly the leaves clung to the young trees than to the -older ones. Many of them, if pulled steadily by the tip, tore sooner -than give way at the stalk. On oak and poplar sprouts or suckers, the -leaves remain much longer than on old wood; they keep their rich -coloring far into November, and they are often very conspicuous by -reason of their great size. - -I found more life stirring in these beech woods than anywhere else. -Squirrels both red and gray were hard at work upon the ground, gathering -winter stores. A fine gray, on seeing me, scrambled to the high leafless -limbs of an oak, becoming there much more conspicuous than he had been -among the fallen leaves. - -This autumn a farmer shot a gray squirrel and hung it in his shed. The -cat stole the squirrel and shared it with her family. Next day, puss -went gray-squirrel hunting, and to the farmer’s astonishment captured -her game and brought it home. The squirrel was so large that the cat, to -avoid tripping over it, walked backwards much of the way, pulling it -after her. Thus far for her thriving family puss is said to have secured -six gray squirrels. - -A friend of mine, while hunting this fall in a grove of oaks, noticed a -large gray squirrel coming directly towards him through the woods, -pursued by a red squirrel. Chickaree soon saw his danger and stopped, -but the gray came slowly on, as though searching for something. The -hunter stood motionless, wondering. Nearer and nearer came the -inquisitive squirrel, until it reached the man’s feet and sniffed at his -gun-stock. Its eyes seemed to have been injured or to be partially -covered by a morbid growth. The moment the man moved in an effort to -catch the creature alive, it bounded from him and disappeared. - -The perfect clearness of the sky lasted until nightfall, then a narrow -line of golden orange light separating a pale silvery sky from a deep -violet earth was all there was of sunset. - - - - - AMONG THE WIND-SWEPT LAKES. - - -The first thing which I saw as I opened my eyes Monday morning was the -tip of Passaconaway’s pyramid, rosy with the sun’s earliest rays, and -hanging like a great pink moon between the soft gray of a hazy sky and -the cold gray of the misty forests. It was a soft morning with a -southerly wind and a cloudy sky, yet with a chill in the air which -hinted of snow. As the damp wind swept across the snow-covered peak of -Chocorua, its moisture was condensed, and from the rock, trailing away -northeastward like a huge white banner, a cloud streamer waved for an -hour in the hurrying wind. Then the peak was overcome by the cloud and -hidden for the rest of the day in a slowly thickening and descending -pall. - -In all the years which I had spent in wandering over these fair hills, I -never had explored Whitton Pond. Looking down upon it from the -snow-covered mountain yesterday, it had seemed so pleasant to the eye -that I determined to view it from all sides, and to see the mighty form -of Chocorua reflected in its clear waters. Towards Whitton Pond, then, I -directed my steps this gray morning. - -Taking the Conway road from the Chocorua House, I walked northward upon -it rather more than three miles to what is known far and near in this -country as the Bell Schoolhouse in Albany. Perhaps the bell uses its -tongue in dark nights when the wild storm-wind sweeps down from -Chocorua, and the forest groans under its stripes. Certainly its tones -are not heard in the sunlit hours, as the bats in its belfry and the -spiders in its schoolroom can bear witness. - -As I passed up the eastern side of Chocorua Lake, under the great pines -which guard its shore, a flock of ducks rose from the water and flew -towards the south, then wheeling, returned and vanished far in the -north. There were seven of them, six flying neck and neck in an even -row, and one lagging behind. The six were apparently snowy white with -dark markings on heads and wings; the laggard was dark colored. - -One often hears in February and March that signs of early spring are -growing numerous, that red buds are swelling on the maples, catkins have -come upon the alders, and that many another shrub or tree is pushing out -its new life. Noticing the alder catkins swinging in the wind, I -measured several and found them already from an inch to an inch and a -half long. Some of the maples were noticeably ruddy in tone, so thick -and red were their buds. Lucky it is for the grouse that buds do not -wait for winter to go, before they pack away the sweet food of life -under their snug jackets. The grouse could give an eloquent lecture on -the pledges of the spring renaissance which are made every autumn by the -budding trees. - -At the Bell Schoolhouse I took the right-hand road, crossed the Chocorua -River, a slender run at this point, and almost immediately after turned -again to the right, taking an old road leading eastward over the hills -to Madison village. The road was a new one to me, but I knew that it led -through one of the saddest regions in the Bearcamp valley. A generation -ago the “North Division” was comparatively thickly settled. More than a -dozen comfortable sets of buildings were tenanted on those sunny slopes. -Children flocked to the little school-house, corn rustled in the fields, -and farmer’s “gee” echoed back to farmer’s “wah-hīsh” from the plowings -or wood-lot. Now the porcupine and the skunk, the chimney swift and the -adder are the undisputed owners of the deserted farms. The people have -gone as though the plague had smitten the land, and houses, barns, -fences, bridges, and well-sweeps are mouldering away together. Why is -it? Ask the West and the great cities, which between them have drawn the -young blood from New England’s rural families, leaving the old and -feeble to struggle alone with life on the hills. A kindlier region than -this could be depopulated by such a process. - -The most remote and the highest farm in the North Division shone, as we -approached it, like a brass button. Carpenters, painters, and -home-makers had been at work upon it until the hills and trees knew it -for its old self no longer. Nevertheless it was as empty and silent as -the decaying farmsteads below. Gazing from its terrace upon the far view -of Ossipee Lake, the broad Bearcamp valley, and the semicircle of hills -and mountains from Wakefield to Chocorua, I understood why its present -owner came from the shores of Lake Michigan to spend his summer in its -beautiful quiet. - -Behind this redeemed fragment of the North Division rises a granite -ledge, from which matchless views of many mountains, lakes, and sleepy -hollows can be obtained. I found the ledge covered with snow, and the -spruce woods on its steep northern slope as full of snow as the thickets -on Chocorua’s ridges. At this season a slight elevation and shade make -all the difference between summer and winter. - -From the ledge I could see the whole of Whitton Pond, lying just below -me. It looked like a silver Maltese cross with its four arms reaching -out to the four points of the compass. A small island and one or two -single rocks rose from its surface. At least three bluff headlands, -pine-crowned and rock-faced, stood out boldly into its waters. Just -across its eastern side, and due north from the elevation upon which I -was standing, rose an impressive hill whose precipitous southern side -was formed of a series of polished ledges sloping directly towards the -deep waters of the lake. In the depths below those ledges large trout -are said to live in a state of haughty contempt for all except favored -anglers. I once asked a native, presumably not a favorite of the Whitton -Pond trout, whether he would advise me to go to the pond fishing. -Turning his gray eye upon me, he said solemnly, “Young man, ef I had the -ch’ice of fishing all day in Whitton Pond or in this sandy road, I’d -take the road every time.” - -A logging road led from the back of the ledge down to the pond. In the -dark spruces near the water stood a tiny and dilapidated log hut and -stable. So small was the hut, it seemed as though only one lumberman -could have lived there. From the hut the road led straight to the -lakeside, and to as lovely a view of the eastern flank of Chocorua as -can be won anywhere. All that I had imagined yesterday as I stood on -those far ramparts was now made real. Here was the ruffled water, the -pine-capped headlands, the guardian ledges; there was the stern fortress -lifting its rock face and ragged outlines high against the sky. As the -mists hurried over the peak, they suggested smoke from cannon fired from -this Gibraltar of nature. Here and there spruces, standing in the clouds -upon the edge of the precipice, looked like the dim forms of men -guarding the heights. - -As the water was very low, a narrow pebbly and rocky strip of beach -offered an easy way round the lake. I followed it through the eastern -coves to the northern shore, where the slippery ledges, one above -another, hung over me. Many boulders of large size and odd outlines lay -upon the shore, with the waves raised by the south wind splashing -against them. Here the beach failed me, and I had to force my way -westward through the woods and undergrowth to the outlet of the pond. -Considering that the lake was about a mile square, the stream which -escaped from it was singularly small. I crossed it with a single stride. -At high water it is probably much larger, for a dozen or more great logs -pushed far up on the rocks show that the rivulet of to-day gives no -suggestion of the force of water sometimes at work. - - [Illustration: MOUNT CHOCORUA FROM WHITTON POND] - -From the outlet to the highway was less than ten minutes’ walk, a -footpath bringing me to one of the many abandoned farms of unfortunate -Albany. Unfortunate no longer, I hope, for with debt paid, taxes -reduced, and lumbering on the decline, the township ought to revive, -partly through ordinary settlement, but mainly through the influx of -city people to one of the most beautiful spots in New Hampshire. - -My walk back to the hotel took me round Chocorua Lake, while pictures of -Whitton Pond were still vivid in my memory. I confess to a sudden -feeling of jealousy for the newly explored pond when I looked at the -simpler outlines of my favorite water, and wondered how a wooded island -and bluff headlands would become it. Whitton Pond is certainly too -exquisite a bit of nature to remain long a wilderness; while to give up -its lofty ledges to quarrymen would be little less than a crime. - -As I crossed the bridge between the lakes, the coloring was full of -sadness. The long-deferred rain was coming across the mountains. Their -tops were concealed, and only the dimmest, most tearful vision of their -flanks remained. Gray and cold, cold and gray, mountain, sky, forest, -and lake, all were the same. The cry of a pileated woodpecker and the -sputtering complaint of a Hudson Bay titmouse rang in my ears. Birds of -the north, strangers to these cherished spots, why were they here? Why -were their voices full of weird warning? The rain came softly, surely -onward, over the glassy water, and with a shiver I hurried towards the -fireside. After all, men, like birds and insects, flowers and leaves, -feel the chill of autumn and tremble at it. Full as the season may be of -eternal promise, it is charged also with a message of present death and -decay. Leaves wither and fall, flowers drop their petals and turn to -seeds, the locust dies in the grass, the bird takes wing and saves his -life by finding a gentler clime in the far south, and man, if he is to -linger under Chocorua’s lee, must gather his corn into barns, pile his -shed full of wood, and fortify his mind to endure long nights, intense -cold, deep snows, the wailing of wintry winds, and the gruesome voice of -the lake as the ice throttles it. If the heart is brave and serene, -there is peace in the long nights, pleasure in the cold, joy in snowshoe -races on the snow, and exhilaration in the wailing of the wind and the -moaning of the lake. As the viking exulted in sailing his ship through -the fierce gale of the north, so his offspring can find joy in the -wintry breath of Chocorua. - - - - - ’LECTION DAY, ’92. - - -Tuesday, the 8th of November, 1892, belongs to history now, but when it -began it was only an ordinary ’lection day. Floods of night rain had -washed the high peaks clear of snow, and at dawn the golden clouds swept -eastward, and the fairest of November days began its course. All the -horses and all the men turned their noses towards the wooden town-house -in Tamworth village; and by nine o’clock long lines of wagons streamed -under the two campaign flags, across the bridge over rushing Paugus -River, and up to the stores where the smoke of pipes and the sound of -laughter proclaimed the swarming of man. It was an occasion of more than -usual interest, for not only was the great ex-president to test his -tariff-reform lance against the silver shield of his once successful -rival, but New Hampshire in general, and Tamworth in particular, were to -try the Australian ballot system. - -“Now, Jim,” said the committee-man, “remember to make a cross against -the name of every Democrat. Take your time, and look for the letter D. -Wherever you see D, put down your cross.” Then a sample ballot was -displayed to Jim, and that worthy child of Quebec proved the truth of -his assertion that he could “read D in English evvy time, sir.” - -Just before ten, the three stores gave up their crowds in favor of the -growing swarm in front of the town-house. It was a strange commingling -of men. The bone and sinew of rural New England were there, and so were -the gristle, the fat, and the lean. Men well past ninety tottered feebly -to the benches which flanked the broad open floor of the hall. Young -fellows, just of age, stepped briskly in and went to the platform to see -that their names had been duly added to the printed check-list of -voters. Gaunt, loose-jointed, thin-faced men, in worn shoddy, the modern -successor of honest homespun, dragged themselves through the crowd, -answering salutations with grim indifference. Big, burly men with broad, -gray felt hats and scarlet flannel leggings strode in more confidently, -fresh from the spruce woods. Well-dressed, clean-shaven men with city -hats and big watch-chains shook hands with everybody, and with a hand on -John’s shoulder or Edson’s elbow whispered a word in the young voter’s -ear. The New England farmer or lumberman does not ride horseback. He -probably knows how well enough, but his roads have no clay mud, his -wagon runs easily, so he drives instead of riding. Not one man in fifty -owns a saddle. Who is it, then, that comes up the long street at a -breakneck pace, with flapping hat, trailing whip, and rattling spurs? He -rides well, and has a dashing air about him strangely in contrast to the -slouch of the man who always drives, with shoulders hunched and back -curved. He proves to be a city man who has had enough of a ranch and is -now extracting occupation from a farm and summer boarders. - -Now a silk hat and a satin necktie loom up in the throng. They grace a -sleek son of the town who has a store “down country,” but who comes home -to vote. The silk hat looks strangely out of place among the well-worn -felts and woolen caps which cover most of the heads in the crowd. - -The bell in the meeting-house tower moves, and then its clang strikes -harshly on the ear. Half a mile away it would be sweet-toned; here it is -merely discordant. The men straggle into the town-house in large groups, -and soon the room is crowded. Good air goes out by the chimney when the -smokers come in by the door. The supervisors are in their seats, and an -excited discussion is taking place in which they and many in the crowd -join. An oldish man and a foreigner who served in the late civil war has -just produced his naturalization papers and demanded to have his name -placed upon the check-list. The officers object, and point to the book -of statutes open before them, where a section states that no name shall -be added to the list at this late hour except by way of restoring a name -wrongfully dropped from an earlier list. The claimant declares that his -name was or ought to have been on an earlier list; a candidate for -office springs upon a chair and shouts to the supervisors that he will -“make it hot” for them if they refuse the veteran his suffrage; the -crowd cheers, and the officers yield. Then the warrant for the meeting -is read, and immediately after an elder offers prayer, the hats and caps -being doffed in obedience to a loud call of “hats off.” The prayer is -simple and earnest, asking for help in a freeman’s highest duty. A -moderator is chosen, and he delivers a brief and clear lecture upon the -machinery of the new ballot law. Then a resolution is passed with a -shout, allowing the old men to vote first, and the graybeards are pushed -gently forward to the inclosed space in which the five little voting -booths are built. - -The voters are kept waiting half an hour, because at first no one can -open the patent ballot box, but at last it gives way to some persuasive -touch and the day’s work is fairly begun. By noon about fifty men have -passed the guard, taken their folded ballots, entered the little booths, -and spent from two to ten minutes each in marking or trying to mark for -their favorite candidates. - -“This is a great thing for the fools,” said an old farmer; “they can -look just as wise as the wisest of us, but they nor nobody else will -ever know just who they voted for.” - -One man, after entering the booth, came out and said he wanted some one -to mark for him. “Step this way,” shouted the moderator, “and take your -solemn oath that you cannot read your ballot and must have help in -marking it.” “I won’t swear to anything of the kind,” said the man -indignantly, and he went back to his booth. The crowd became impatient -at the delay, and began to push hard for the narrow entrance. Strong men -cried out in pain or anger; the stove tottered and part of the pipe -fell, scattering soot on the nearest heads; the moderator thundered -rebukes, and several men went home disgusted with the new-fangled -system, only to be dragged back later by the committees of their -respective parties. - -Back of the town-house, Paugus River, well filled by the night’s rain -and the melted snow from the mountains, rushed noisily through its -rock-choked bed. I escaped from the hustling crowd, in the hot hall, and -watched the eager current till my eyes and ears were cleared of smoke -and empty laughter, and a taste of something sweeter than politics was -left on my tongue. The river, with its bright water, was following its -course towards the Bearcamp and the sea, because for time out of mind it -had flowed that way and knew no other. Most of the men inside the hall -were acting their parts with much the same intelligence, and marking -wherever they saw the letter R, or the letter D, not because they knew -what those two great letters were struggling for this day in all the -length and breadth of the Union, but because for years they had -worshiped the one and hated the other with the fetich-maker’s fervor. - -A bright-faced, blue-eyed committee-man, just old enough to cast his -first vote for his party’s hero, came to call me to the dinner set for -those who had come from a distance to vote. After dinner I took my share -of the bone-crushing process inside the hall, marked my long ballot, and -started at once for the city. First my friend’s wagon rolled along the -pleasant Bearcamp valley to the pine plains. Turning a little aside, we -drove past White Pond, a shallow, mirror-like lake in the heart of the -plain, framed in snowy sand and gaunt pines. The view of the Sandwich -range across this lake is exquisite at all times, but to-day, with the -dark blue water dancing towards us in thousands of foam-capped waves, -and the mountains standing out sharply against the pale blue sky, it was -more than usually charming. Half a dozen wood-ducks were floating in the -midst of the restless waves, not far from the shore. They paid no heed -to our wagon as it crept through the sand on the beach. - -When we reached the West Ossipee stage road I bade my friend good-by, -and strolled towards the station alone. The south-bound train was not -due till five, and it was now only half past two. The railway track was -not more than half a mile distant across the pine plains, so, leaving -the muddy road, I passed into the pines, following an obscure wood-path. - -Presently the path became plainer, and as I glanced along its vista, my -eye caught a flash of bright yellow gleaming from something at a -distance. The object was shaped like a chimney, but it seemed to spring -from the ground among the scrub-oaks. The path began to descend, at -first gradually, then more abruptly, and I discovered that there was -winding through the barrens ahead of me a small river, which a moment’s -consideration told me must be the Chocorua River, on its way to the -Bearcamp. Beyond the river was a small clearing and in it stood a red -and white house with brilliant yellow chimneys. Then the land rose again -abruptly, inclosing the little meadow and its cottage between high walls -of sand, scrub, and pines. - -Surprised to find an inhabited house in the heart of the plains, where I -had supposed nothing but mayflowers and chewinks lived to break the -monotony of scrub and pine, I pushed on to learn more of the place. When -the path came to the river it crossed by a rustic bridge formed of a -large bow-shaped tree with pieces of board nailed to it, and a strong -hand-rail braced among its broken branches. The bridge was really -artistic, as well as ingenious in construction. From its farther end I -could see the whole of the tiny valley of which the mysterious house was -the gay capital. Five or six acres of grass-land and pasture were -surrounded by woods and sand hills. Three cows fed along the river bank. -Near the house was a neatly fenced garden, and as I came to the fence I -found it crossed by a real stile with three steps up and two steps down, -and a rail to lean upon. - -My approach had, ere this, attracted the attention of the inhabitants of -the hidden valley, and five heads were visible at windows, house angle, -and fence corners. I crossed the stile and gained the little piazza. The -garrison massed around its commander and mother, who was ironing a white -apron on the kitchen table. Strong, plump, and smiling, she was proud of -her little army,—a boy of fourteen, with soft black eyes, black hair, -and the rich color of the Acadian peasant glowing on his cheeks; three -tow-headed girls, with their mother’s blue eyes, and a fifth, a girl of -two summers, with beauty and dignity enough for a duke’s darling. No -overtures of mine were sufficient to conquer this haughty little being’s -reserve. She would have nothing of me, and finally intimated a desire -that I should move on, and leave her undisturbed in her apple-eating. -This I did, taking a farewell look at the cozy house from the crest of -the sand-hills which rose between it and the railway. From the ridge I -could see many a mile of forest, and many a mountain peak, none fairer -than Chocorua. A grouse rose from the scrub at my feet, and flew nearly -an eighth of a mile before alighting. - -The little child’s beauty haunted me as I strolled down the railway -track, and I wondered what her future would be if she grew up in that -snug nook in the woods and sand; what her character would be with its -mingling of Celtic, Gallic, and Saxon elements; frozen in the northern -winter and burned under the hot summer suns of the Ossipee plains. - -At last the train came and bore me away towards the city. The sun sank -in orange splendor behind the Ossipees, and then the night overwhelmed -color and form in its shadows, and left the mind freer in its musings. -What had the day brought forth at the polls? Had the party of past -glories and present decay won another of its wonderful series of -victories, or had the people risen in their might and spoken for reform? -I hoped for some gleam of news before the journey was over, but -Portsmouth, Newburyport, Salem, and Lynn were all passed without tidings -of what the day had done. Even in Boston, with its narrow streets filled -with restless rivers of men and women, there seemed to be no word of -victory or defeat. - -At half past ten I reached a small room high in one of the great -newspaper offices on Washington Street. Its windows looked out upon a -strange sight. Far below me was a vast expanse of human heads upon which -shone the bluish white glare of the hooded electric lamps. As white -bubbles, densely spread upon the pale green of the ocean’s water in some -rock-rimmed grotto, surge now out, now in; to left, to right; advancing, -retreating; crowding or separating; so those countless human heads -swayed first one way, then another, moved by fickle eddies and forces -hard to understand. Wild cries came from the crowd, cheers, jeers, and -yells of pain or brutal merriment. - -Inside the room the wearisome clicking of a telegraph operator’s machine -charmed a circle of eager men and women. As sheet after sheet was -written by the operator, they passed from hand to hand. Some of those -present read them nervously, others, really intensely concerned, seemed -almost indifferent. Now and then hearty applause greeted a dispatch, or -deep regret was expressed at some friend’s defeat; but as a rule the -fragmentary news was received silently. Midnight passed, and then, as -the morning hours wore on, we knew that the people had achieved one of -the most remarkable transfers of political power ever accomplished in -the Union. Still, the result in Massachusetts was in doubt, and even -those who watched until dawn finally sought sleep without knowing how -the smaller cities had settled the great governorship contest. - -Before sleep came to me, a panorama of the day swept in feverish review -across my closed eyelids. I saw the surging mob in Washington Street, -the group around the telegraph machine, the motley crowd in the Tamworth -town-hall, the baby beauty of the Ossipee plains, and then, like a -benediction, came a vision of Chocorua, snow-capped and immutable in a -pale blue sky, with the rosy light of the clear November morning -flooding its wondrous peak. - - - - - A WINTRY WILDERNESS. - - -North of the Sandwich Mountains, inclosed by a circle of sombre peaks, -there once lay a beautiful lake. Centuries ago its outflowing stream, -now called Swift River, cut so deeply between the spurs of Chocorua and -Bear mountains that the greater part of the lake drained away into the -Saco at Conway, leaving its level bed a fair and rich-soiled intervale. - -By the road upon which the lake went out man in time came in, and -founded in the bosom of the spruce-grown mountains a small but -comparatively prosperous settlement. Having seen this hidden valley in -summer, and taken account of its rare beauty and its remoteness from the -wearisome machinery of the world, I yearned to know its winter charms, -feeling sure that they would surpass those of summer as the fairness of -snow surpasses the fairness of grass. Accordingly, in the latter part of -December, 1891, I went by rail with a friend to Chatauque Corner, and -thence by sleigh up the weird pass between Chocorua on the south and -Moat and Bear mountains on the north, gaining at nightfall a warm haven -in one of the snug farmhouses in the middle of the intervale. - -The township of Albany knows no priest or physician, squire or -shopkeeper, and in its coat of arms, if it had one, the plow and rifle, -axe and circular saw, would be quartered with bear and porcupine, owl -and grouse. From the head of the intervale the people are forced to -travel nearly thirty miles to reach and bring home their mail and -groceries. In spite of these drawbacks, the permanent residents are -intelligent, thrifty, well-housed, and well informed of the world’s -doings. Though their only road to the outside is long and rough, they -let no moss gather on it in summer, and no snowdrifts blockade it in -winter. - -Setting out for this far valley in midwinter, I felt something of the -explorer’s thrill as he turns towards the unknown, and leaves home and -comforts behind. The distant and the difficult of attainment are always -seen by the mind through a golden haze, and although no fair Lorna drew -me to her rescue, and no lawless Doones barred my way through the grim -passes which led to the valley, romance and the spice of danger seemed -mingled with my enterprise. As the journey progressed, and one stage of -it after another slipped past, unreal gave way to real, and commonplace -supplanted marvelous. Even when night fell, as we entered the valley, -the light which gleamed afar through the spruces told of hospitality as -truly as the sleigh’s ample furs spoke of comfort, and the keen wind of -health. - -We reached the valley on the evening of Saturday, December 19, and -enjoyed every moment of our stay, which was prolonged until Saturday, -the 26th. From my journal, written on the evening of each day, I take -the following account of our wanderings. - -We left Chatauque Corner (Conway) at three o’clock, well packed in the -fur robes of a comfortable two-seated sleigh and drawn by a skinny -graduate of a race-course. It was an ideal winter afternoon, blessing an -ideal Northern landscape. There were the broad Saco intervales flat with -snow, the pale blue sky with a fringe of cloud-banks, and between -intervale and sky, mountains of marble and ramparts of dark evergreens. -Straight up the Saco valley the immense mass of Mount Washington rose -against the sky. It was wholly covered by snow. On its left, Moat, like -a breaking wave of the sea, was close at hand. On its right, Carter -Notch, with walls of dull purplish-black spruce, reached to where -stately Mount Pequawket reared its dark cone on high. The Saco splashed -in its rocky bed. Every boulder was glazed with white ice, and from the -two banks of the stream, borders of ice reached towards each other, half -concealing the greenish waters which lapped their edges. - - [Illustration: “MOAT, LIKE A BREAKING WAVE”] - -The sleighing was excellent. Not more than eight inches of snow had -fallen during the week, and it was the first enduring fall of the -season. It had been followed by a dash of rain and then a sudden freeze. -After going a mile on the North Conway road, we turned to the left into -a road leading westward towards the narrow pass between Chocorua and -Moat. The immense crags of Moat frowned upon us. Then we plunged into a -pine forest and felt the first chill of night. As we sped through the -shadow, we passed the skinned carcass of an ox hung by its fore-legs to -the limb of a pine. A strange slaughtering-place, and one to tempt -sniffing foxes when night falls. A mile farther on, the skull of a bear -grinned on the tip of a pole in the brush fence by the roadside. - -Music sounded in our ears, and far below the narrow road, which was -grooved in the mountain-side, we saw Swift River plunging from ledge to -pool on its way to the Saco. The Saco had seemed wild when we saw it in -Conway intervale, but this stream’s madness left it placid by -comparison. Two steep slopes, glare with crusted snow, led down to the -narrow channel. At their foot boulders of every shape and size fought -the progress of the water. The stream dashed itself against them, -hurling spray into the air; the spray fell upon the snow and froze, fell -upon the boulders and froze, or drained back into the stream, freezing -in icicles of marvelous forms. The water, colored doubtless by the -mosses and weeds below its surface, was green,—a cold, pale green,—with -something of the cruelty of a winter ocean in its tones. Now and then we -met and passed sleds heavily laden with lumber or logs. One load of -birch logs was on fire at the hinder end, and the driver was warming his -hands at the blaze. A few poor farms lined the road at points where -small patches of tillable land were to be found between the rocky -fingers of Moat. As we passed one of these farms a flock of two dozen or -more snow-buntings rose from a field full of tall weed-stalks and -whirled over us singing. Their sweet notes fell on us as holy water -falls on a kneeling congregation. - -The road grew steeper, and then it crossed the river, passing through a -huge covered bridge, and soon we found ourselves inside of the portals -of Chocorua and Moat, with the high ridge of Bear Mountain, covered with -black spruces, barring our westward way. The wall of sullen forest -seemed without a cleft, yet the raging river which met us told of a way -somewhere, to be found by retracing its channel. - -In the midst of this gloomy hollow in the hills we found a slab village. -A dozen or fifteen houses stood here, but no smoke curled from their -chimneys. Last September every house was occupied; now the foxes roam -through the deserted settlement unmolested. The sawmill which had -created the village had been burned and the whole population had -vanished almost as swiftly as the smoke of the ruins. Not so the hideous -scars left by the lumberman’s axe. They will remain for many a day. - -By a series of sharp ascents we gained and passed through the rift in -the mountain wall made centuries ago by the imprisoned waters. In this -rift at the eastern foot of Bear Mountain, only a few steps from the -roadside, are the picturesque falls of Swift River. The treacherous ice -and the gathering darkness forbade our going to the giddy margin of the -fall, and we dashed on into the hidden valley, the narrow, -mountain-girdled intervale of which we were in search. As we left the -forest fringes of Bear Mountain behind us and emerged in the plain, a -gorgeous winter sunset gave us welcome. Over the blue of the upper sky, -in which Jupiter alone sparkled faintly, were scattered countless flakes -of rosy cloud. Below them a broad black band of cloud cut the sky at the -level of several mountain peaks, and below this sinister bar, showing -only in the gaps between the mountains, was a space of greenish silver, -into which thousands of spruces reared their slender spires. - -Taking fresh courage, our horse carried us over the fifteenth mile at -racing speed. The road was level. On the right the flat, white intervale -shone in the pale light as in distant ages the face of the great -mountain lake shone in silent winter nights. Westward, across the end of -the intervale, were Tripyramid, Kancamagus, and Osceola mountains; -northward, Green’s Cliffs, Carrigain, Lowell, Owl’s Head, and Tremont -Mountain stood shoulder to shoulder in double rank. Behind us, dark Bear -Mountain concealed Moat, while spurs of Chocorua reached down to the -road. On the left was Paugus, crouching at the foot of Passaconaway, -which dominated over the valley with gloomy majesty. A bright light -gleamed through the spruces, the Carrigain House lay there between black -forest and pale snow, Mayhew’s lantern swung to and fro, and his deep -voice welcomed us to his cheerful home in the heart of the wintry -wilderness. - -Those who live in the city have an idea that it is hard to keep warm in -these northern farm-houses, with their single windows, thin walls, and -wood fires. They are wrong. There is a degree of heat attainable in a -small room, armed with an air-tight stove, which burns birch sticks or -slabs almost as fast as they can be fed to it, that is able to hold its -own against the equator at midsummer. It takes courage, on a cold -morning before sunrise, to leave a warm bed to start a fire in one of -these stoves; but when the fire is fully aroused, cold is put out of the -question, or at least out of doors. - -After a hot supper we put on our coats and furs and went out into the -night. I had the same feeling of reverence and quiet that I have in -going into a dimly-lighted cathedral. The stars flickered on high, the -snow gleamed below, on every side mountain peaks guarded the narrow -valley. In the spruce woods, which reach from the road back to Paugus, -the darkness was intense. We listened. At first there seemed to be no -sound to hear. Then the whisper of Swift River came out of the north, -and the bark of a dog far up the valley told of a fox prowling too near -the farmyard. Suddenly, from a bank of silver light back of Carrigain, -two long tongues of pallid fire shot upward into the sky and trembled -there, only to disappear as abruptly as they came. Although the dim -auroral glow stayed in the north for some time, I saw no more radiating -light. - -It was but little after eight o’clock when we sought sleep and found it -quickly between feathers below and mighty piles of blankets and -comforters above. - -Untroubled moonlight flooded Swift River intervale all night, and there -was still more of moonlight than of daylight when our host came into our -room in the morning to light our fire. The winter working-costume of our -host deserves mention. His brown cardigan jacket was not remarkable, but -his legs were marvelously encased. They began at the body with ample -woolen trousers, half way between the hip and knee gave way to -tightly-fitting scarlet wrappings which reached to low rubbers, covering -the feet. Nimble of foot, and of wiry frame, the wearer of these -remarkably unpuritanical nether garments was a most enlivening figure in -the snow. - -Encouraged by our fire, we arose with the sun. The mountains in the -north were bathed in rosy light. Dark as were their forests, each of -these mountains presented snow-covered ledges, or avalanche scars white -with snow. Upon these white surfaces the sunlight fell with that soft -blush which makes a winter sunrise so charmingly full of promise. We -hastened out of doors as soon as dressed, and were at once greeted by -joyous voices. A red squirrel in the dark spruces was whirling his -watchman’s rattle; far away in the forest a woodpecker was drumming on a -resonant tree-trunk; but near at hand, only across one snow-covered -field, a chorus of bird voices quivered in the still, cold air. The air -was cold, that was true. Zero was the point the mercury held to, and as -we took long breaths of the pure air we spouted forth columns of white -steam through our ice-hung beards. Trotting up the road, we sought the -birds. We found them at the next farmhouse, perched by dozens on -plum-trees, maple saplings by the road, and on the tips of a row of -spruces opposite the farmyard. Some were in the road, others in the -dooryard on the soiled snow where oxen had stood. In all, over a hundred -were present. As we drew near, they rose and flew in waving circles over -us, every bird singing until the whole air seemed tingling with sound. -Then they came down in undulating lines, curves, angles, and plunges, -which turned aside into a second flight in the sunlight. As they settled -in groups in the various trees, I swept my glass over one cluster after -another. Crossbills were the most numerous species, with goldfinches a -close second, and pine finches third. The crossbills were in all stages -and conditions of plumage, from rich red males blazing like dull coals -plucked from the fire, to dingy brown. No white-winged crossbills seemed -to be among them. Three months before, on a cold dewy morning in -September, I stood on this spot and saw a flock of thirty crossbills in -these same trees. Then a number of them were feeding in the edge of the -pasture at a place where cattle had been salted in a shallow trough. I -saw the birds tearing off fibres from the wood of the trough, so eager -were they to get the salt which the wood had absorbed. This morning the -salt trough was covered with snow, save one edge which protruded; but -all around it the crossbills had trodden the snow into a path, showing -that they were still salt-hungry. Acting upon this hint, I sprinkled the -ground with grain and rock salt; but although birds were in all the -trees, they paid no heed to my offerings. - -After watching the crossbills for nearly an hour we walked westward. The -birds had been more restless than we. Few of them remained still more -than two or three minutes at a time. With sharp calls the crossbills -would dash off, followed by the finches, and together, or in scattered -detachments, they would wheel from one quarter of the heavens to -another, perhaps returning in a moment to the same perch, perhaps -vanishing in distance, not to reappear for many minutes. All the time -that they were on the wing the air was full of their fragments of music. - -Our way led for a mile through the level fields of the intervale. Five -or six farmhouses or wood-cutters’ huts faced the straight road. At -almost every house a few birds were seen, probably parts of the main -flock. We also caught a glimpse of a large flock of snow-buntings flying -helter-skelter over a field where yellow grasses were waving above the -snow. At length our road came to an end at the banks of Swift River near -the upper end of the intervale. The river was shallow, and so was a -broad brook flowing into it at this point. The latter we found no great -difficulty in crossing dry-shod, by going from one pile of stones and -ice to another. Beyond the stream we entered a bit of primeval forest, -only partly destroyed by lumbermen of an earlier generation, who seem to -have been less grasping than their successors. In these woods we heard -bird voices, and recognized the “_quank, quank_” of the red-bellied -nuthatch, and the “_chick-a-dee-dee-dee_” of the titmouse. To call them -nearer I hooted like an owl, and soon after, sharp alarm whistles almost -exactly like those of a robin came from some unknown birds in a bunch of -firs at a distance. Upon hooting again, I was pleasantly surprised to -get a reply from a barred owl. A moment or so later we heard blue jays -scolding him not far away. - -After strolling through these woods and along the edge of Sabba Day -Brook for an hour we turned towards home, treading in our previous -footprints and thus avoiding crashing through the brittle crust of the -snow. On reaching the spot where the owl had hooted, I used my metallic -bird whistles and drew a crowd of chickadees, kinglets, nuthatches, and -blue jays. Then I hooted, the jays scolded noisily, and soon the owl -replied. He came nearer by degrees, I hooting occasionally, he -frequently. Finally he alighted in a tree just over us, but saw us at -once and flew away. I continued hooting and he replied again, and came -back within sight. Whenever he moved, the jays pursued him scolding, and -they were still watching him when we resumed our march towards home. - - - - - CLIMBING BEAR MOUNTAIN IN THE - SNOW. - - -_Monday, December 21._ The moon ate up the clouds during the night, and -at dawn the only remnants of what the evening before had looked like a -storm were the cloud-caps upon Tripyramid and Kancamagus, and a band of -mist across Church’s Pond at the western end of the intervale. We were -dressing about seven o’clock when our host came to our door, saying, “If -you want to see a fox, come quickly.” I ran into the east room and -caught a last glimpse of Reynard trotting briskly over the snow towards -the rising sun. He seemed to be following a scent which went in a -somewhat wavy line across the field. At eight o’clock, just as we were -striding up the road to pay a visit to the crossbills, a wild cry rang -from the forest and echoed from end to end of the valley. It was the -voice of the timber-eater, coming northward by his tortuous path from -Upper Bartlett, and calling for his day’s food. The men at the lumber -cars near our house bustled a little, and then started down the track to -see the engine come in. On its arrival one heavily laden car was -attached to it, and the train, thus made up, at once started back. -Meanwhile, we had met two tree sparrows by the roadside and seen our -crossbills and goldfinches on their favorite trees. They had, -apparently, eaten none of the cracked corn sprinkled for them upon the -snow. As the train was about to start, we boarded the engine and gained -a promise from the engineer to let us out at the foot of Bear Mountain. -Crossing Swift River, the train entered the spruce forest and began its -winding journey towards Upper Bartlett. With my head out of the -left-hand window, I absorbed all the novelty and beauty of the scene. -Inside, the engineer sat at his window with his earnest eyes looking up -the track, his strong hand upon crank or lever, and his face grave and -quiet. The fireman poured oil into the sucking cups above the boiler; -then he clanked the chain of the furnace door, peeped into the raging -fire within, hurled into it a shovelful of coal dust, rammed it home -with the poker, worked the movable lever which dumped ashes, and again -poured oil into the sucking, choking cups. - -Outside, the spruce forest hemmed us in, but rising above it headland -after headland of black rocks, snow-incrusted ledges, and lofty spruces -came into view, frowned upon us, and were left behind. A flock of blue -jays crossed in front of the engine, a red squirrel whisked along a log -by the track. Now the rails sloped up so that the engineer increased his -power, then the track fell away so that all power was cut off. Trestle -after trestle was crossed, strange piles of bark-covered logs which -groaned under our weight as we rolled over them. - -After traveling four miles to get ahead less than two, the engineer -stopped for us to begin our climb up Bear Mountain. He leaned out of his -window, giving us advice and wishing us a fair trip. Then he applied the -power, and the great mass moved on through the notch towards Upper -Bartlett. This short piece of rough road is operated solely to carry out -lumber and logs; but if people wish to ride, they are taken without -charge. It is said that if the road refused to take them they could -compel it to run passenger trains. - -The point at which the kindly engineer had stopped to leave us was the -lower end of a series of lumber roads leading to the upper slopes of -Bear Mountain. The mountain, once covered with an immense spruce forest, -has now been stripped of the greater part of its valuable timber. -Beginning at the main road in which we stood, dozens of minor roads held -the mountain in their embrace. They reminded me of the tentacles of an -enormous devil-fish. Near the focus of all these roads we found a log -cabin and stables. The cabin was one of the best I have ever seen. It -was about sixty feet long, and contained a room at each end and roofed -space in the middle open at front and back. Near the house we heard bird -voices, and I at once used my Spanish whistles. The effect was -excellent. Four or five red-bellied nuthatches, one white-bellied, and a -small flock of pine finches responded. The siskins were very noisy and -quite restless. They were feeding on the seeds and buds of a tall birch. -Leaving the hut at nine o’clock, we strolled up the snow-covered roads. -The voices of birds were ever in our ears. Squirrel and rabbit tracks, -with now and then the tracks of a fox, followed or cut the roads. The -snow was five or six inches in depth and covered by a thin and brittle -crust. In many places numbers of well-filled beechnuts were strewn upon -the ground. This is beechnut year, and the squirrels have more than they -can pick up. The snow in the road was easy to walk upon, the air was -mild, the sun warm, the spruces rich with olive light and brilliantly -contrasted with the deep blue sky against which our mountain towered. On -each side of the narrow way “top wood” and branches were piled in -ramparts. The many roads reaching up the mountain are in places set so -closely together that their ramparts of top wood touch each other, -forming almost impassable barriers. - -It was in one of these tangles that I discovered two small woodpeckers -at work tapping upon the trunks of two unhealthy spruces spared by the -axe. I saw at a glance that the birds were unfamiliar in coloring, and I -crawled in among the top wood to examine them more closely. To whistles, -hooting, and squeaks they paid no attention, but kept on hammering the -trees until small flakes of loose bark flew at every blow. My crashing -through snow and branches startled one bird, but the other stood his -ground until I got within about fifteen feet of him. My glass brought -out every detail of his plumage. Upon his head was a yellow cap, his -throat was snowy white, his sides were finely, delicately barred with -black and white, his back was largely black, but down his spine ran a -belt of black and white cross-lining. Instead of having four toes like -the downy and other common woodpeckers, this stranger from the north had -but three toes. He was the ladder-backed woodpecker of the great -northern forests. During the twenty minutes that I watched him he made -no vocal sound, but worked incessantly, tearing away bark, and drilling -into the trunk of the spruce. When he had inspected the tree to its -highest part he flew several rods to rejoin his mate. - -At last the roads ended and we entered the remnant of dark forest which -crowns the mountain. There was a chill in the gloomy shades. The snow -was softer and deeper here. It covered innumerable boulders closely -wedged together between the stems of the spruces. On the sides of these -rocks we could see delicate mosses imprisoned in the ice and snow. At -frequent intervals we encountered masses of fallen timber wrecked by -hurricanes. Another obstacle to our ascent was the dense growth of young -spruces which in places made walking almost impossible. In the edge of -an open space in this forest we called together the birds by means of my -whistle. A flock of juncos appeared in a pile of top wood; red-bellied -nuthatches came and clung head downwards on the nearest trunks and -_quanked_ at us, kinglets bustled in, peeped at us, and bustled out, a -dozen or more red crossbills alighted close above us and to our -satisfaction made the note which had so puzzled us yesterday and which -sounds like the robin’s alarm-note. Best of all, a flock of sixty pine -siskins came into the nearest trees, and one or two of them came down to -the level of our heads and questioned us plaintively. The body of sweet -sound made in a conversational way by these gentle, cheerful little -birds, was amazing. - -We reached the summit at about noon, and were fully repaid for the three -hours’ climb. During the ascent, charming views of Passaconaway, -Tripyramid, Kancamagus, and the dazzlingly white fields of the intervale -had greeted us whenever we stopped to rest. Now were added Chocorua, -Moat, Pequawket, Mount Washington and his supporting mountains, the -Franconia group, Carrigain, and the Bartlett valley. Moat and Chocorua -are much alike from this point of view. They are both comparatively -treeless mountains and were consequently snowy white. Their outlines -suggest combing breakers. Chocorua, being under the low-hanging sun, was -reflecting light from every crusted snowbank and ice-wrapped boulder. It -was like a mountain of cut glass. Mount Washington was unobscured, and -in the noonday sun as colorless as summer clouds. This snowy whiteness -of its upper mass wound in streams down its sides, as soft frosting -pours in grooves down the sides of a birthday cake. Between these -streams of whiteness ran upward long fingers of dark forest. Most of the -other mountains in sight were wooded to their summits, and so contrasted -sharply in their sombre colorings with their snowy rivals. - -The narrow ridge which forms the top of Bear Mountain is blockaded by -fallen timber. Squirming through the tangle, we saw all the views and -then sat down in the sun on piles of spruce branches and ate our lunch. -Having no water, we quenched our thirst by mingling snow with our bread -and eating them together. As we ate and rested, looking across a wooded -valley toward Carrigain and the Franconias, a flock of white-winged -crossbills alighted above our heads and talked to us. Several were rosy -males in the perfection of plumage. Many more siskins came and went, and -so did a flock of four red nuthatches and several kinglets. - -Our descent was rapid and amusing. We plunged downward from tree to tree -with long strides and slides, sometimes falling, often coasting faster -and farther than we wished. Three more flocks of crossbills, many dozens -of siskins, and a scattering of nuthatches gladdened us as we pushed -down the slopes. A hawk, too, came quite near to us, soaring at last so -as to clear the mountain’s crest. He was rather small, and very quick -and jerky in his wing motions. He circled from left to right in small -curves. - - [Illustration: MOUNT CHOCORUA AND THE LAKE IN WINTER] - -While walking home on the railway we were fortunate enough to call to us -a small flock of pine grosbeaks, five or six only, and having no red -birds in their number so far as I could see. Red squirrels were -ubiquitous. I think we saw, or heard the chattering of, at least twenty -during the day. I have been told so often that chipmunks keep closely -housed in winter that when one squealed at me from his hole near the -track I did not trust either my own ears or those of my friend. Seeing -is believing, however, and a dozen or two rods farther on another -chipmunk stayed on his log long enough for us to count his stripes and -wish him a merry Christmas. - -We reached home at about half past four, just as the western sky was -filled with rosy light by a sun already set. Venus, close to the dark -rim of Passaconaway, and Jupiter, in the higher sky, summoned the stars -to their posts, and encouraged us to beg for supper. - - - - - IN THE PAUGUS WOODS. - - -Just opposite our house, which stood on the north side of the road, -facing south towards Paugus, was a black forest of spruces. Into this we -plunged on Tuesday morning, not knowing what might lie within. The -silence of the gloom was broken by the sound of falling bits of ice and -drops of melting snow. Bird notes, too, could be heard, and now and then -a red squirrel chattered. The trunks of the trees stood closely -together, and thousands of small dead branches radiated from the trunks -and interlaced, opposing our progress. The crashing of these twigs as we -broke through them, accompanied by the crunching of the snow-crust under -our feet, noisily announced our coming. At intervals we found masses of -fallen timber, the wreck of fierce storms, and brooks covered with thin -ice and misleading snow, through which we slumped into cold water -beneath. Every few paces rabbit tracks dotted the soft film of snow -which lay upon the crust. If the tracks which we crossed during our -three or four mile walk could have been measured in all their -meanderings, I think the aggregate of miles traversed by the rabbits of -that locality would have been found to rival the railway mileage of New -Hampshire. From time to time we stopped to call birds to us by the aid -of my whistles. I think I called eight or nine times, and in each -instance birds appeared promptly. Usually pine finches came first, -whirling through the upper air like burnt paper driven by the wind. As -they passed over us, they would catch the sound of the whistles more -distinctly and begin a series of undulatory circles. Then one or two -would drop straight down into a leafless tree, or upon the tips of the -spruces, and the rest would follow them, sometimes twenty going into one -tree. Their sweet queryings filled the air, and drew other birds to the -focus of sound, among others a number of purple finches and a -white-bellied nuthatch. Kinglets came very near to us when we were well -hidden; so near that the brilliant color on their dainty heads could be -seen with perfect distinctness. There were more chickadees in these -woods than in the other places we had visited, and I examined them all -with great care, hoping to find a Hudson Bay titmouse. Two flocks of the -common species came, and produced no northern birds, but at a third -rally of nuthatches, finches, and kinglets, a strange voice made itself -heard. I knew it for something different from a chickadee at once, and -yet it was titmouse language. Squeaking vigorously, I called the -stranger down to me. At first I thought it was a chickadee; then he -sputtered out his “_dee-dee_” and showed his brownish head and great -chestnut patch on his flank, and I knew he was from Hudson Bay. Three -others joined him and gave me ample chance to inspect their points. I -had the feeling that they had less character and spirit than our -blackcap titmouse. Their voices were weaker and more petulant and their -general appearance less positive and aggressive. - -Once I caught a glimpse of a big white hare bounding away from us -through a jungle of young spruces. He was so nearly the color of the -snow that my eyes found it difficult to follow him. - -After going rather more than two miles through the spruce tangle, we -entered an old logging road much used by rabbits, foxes, and grouse, -and, following it northward, we made our way home. - -About 3.30 P. M. the baying of a hound attracted our notice, and I -walked up the road to see what he was doing. He soon appeared at the -edge of the spruce woods, and I followed him into their dark shades. -After a moment’s hesitation he took the back track and was soon almost -out of earshot on a hot scent. Not long after, my friend left the house -and, crossing Swift River by the railway bridge, followed the rails -northward through the forest. Soon he heard the hound baying to the -eastward, down river. Then a snapping of branches and crunching of crust -came to his ears, and a moment later a deer broke through the bushes, -dashed up the embankment, and, turning at right angles, came in weary -leaps towards him. My friend stood perfectly still, too much astonished -to move. The deer came to within twelve paces of him, then saw him, and -with a bound left the track and plunged into the woods on the western -side. A few moments later the hunters came up and my friend demanded -what they were doing, and whether the hound was their dog, in so severe -a tone that the poachers denied their interest in the dog and made off -into the woods. Meanwhile, I wandered southward through the spruces, now -hearing the hound, now losing his melancholy baying. No small birds were -to be seen or heard. They had vanished to their night abiding-places. -Two grouse rose noisily and went into the tops of the trees. Red -squirrels continued to bustle about until after dusk. As light faded in -the sky, the forest grew very dark, and fallen trees, stumps, and bushes -rearranged themselves into weird shapes which seemed to move against the -vague background of the snow. The silence of the cold black and white -woods became oppressive, and the chill of night increased moment by -moment. The baying of the hound, lost to the eastward, had come again -from the north, and finally moved over towards the west. It was after -five o’clock, and the dog had followed his chase since eleven. Standing -still, listening to the hound, and peering into the trees in search of -the grouse, I began to grow drowsy, and to long to sink down upon the -soft snow and go to sleep. It required a strong effort of will to rouse -myself and to start my benumbed feet upon their homeward way. As soon as -I moved, the grouse, which had been budding in a high maple, flew away -deeper into the gloom, and then utter silence settled down upon the -deserted forest. - -When we awoke, December 24, the day promised to be fine. Blue sky -covered the area above Carrigain, and a cool west wind swept across the -fields from which much of the snow had disappeared. We had planned to -climb another of the mountains near the railway track, but while we were -breakfasting, the engine came in, and, finding no cars loaded, went out -again at once. By nine o’clock clouds had gathered and caps had settled -down upon many of the peaks. We heard crossbills calling as we left the -house. Their short, sharp call is much like the English sparrow’s -alarm-note. A flock of nine settled on the spruces by the salting-trough -as we went past. One was a red bird, two had a trace of red, five were -brown, with some streaking on the sides of the breast, and one was quite -yellow. One of them was gnawing a long shoot of spruce which had already -been chewed free of needles and left brown and forlorn. Unfortunately we -took a dog with us, a black mongrel with pleading eyes and no wisdom. He -loved to zigzag over the country in front of us, and to bark at red -squirrels. He was a nuisance, but very sweet-tempered, as many fools -are. We took him, hoping that he might hunt rabbits, but we wished him -in Jericho long before the forenoon was over. - -Although cloudy all day, no rain fell until evening; consequently birds -were astir and abundant. We left the highway at a point where an old -logging road led southward through the spruce swamp, parallel to a -stream bearing the odd name of Oliverian Brook. Continued far enough -over ledges and through “harricanes,” the road would pass between Paugus -and Passaconaway and come out into the Birch Intervale, Tamworth. After -going in for a couple of miles the road bends to the left, following the -east branch of the Oliverian Brook up to the spruce forests on Paugus. - -We made our first halt in a dense spruce and hemlock thicket and called -for birds. They came from all quarters until dozens of the usual kinds -were around us. After a while seven or eight blue jays flitted past, one -by one, attracted mainly by my hooting. They came within easy gunshot -and peered at us with suspicion and anger in their wicked eyes. They are -villains in spite of their attractive dress. Suddenly they flew with -cries of alarm, and I saw a large light-colored hawk sweep past and -alight in a tall dead tree just out of range. The dog at this crisis -made his appearance and rushed back and forth with ill-timed energy. The -hawk flew a little farther away and was on his guard against stalking. -The jays also vanished, and soon the smaller birds left also. Among the -latter was one Hudson Bay titmouse. - -In the depths of the spruce swamp the snow had not wasted much, and it -was soft enough to take the imprint of passing feet. We found the tracks -of a deer, a mink, and a ’coon. Foxes, rabbits, squirrels, mice, and -grouse had been that way also. Several times, in crossing fresh fox -tracks, I got a whiff of odor which I fancied might be that of the fox. -It suggested the smell of hamamelis. The swamp trees were draped with -gray moss, one of the most striking of nature’s decorations in this -latitude. Many of the trees were thickly grown with green lichens, -which, being wet, were two or three times as bright in coloring as when -dry. In spots where the snow had melted, showing patches of the swamp -floor, mayflower, checkerberry, ranunculus, partridge-berry, ferns, and -other leaves showed their vivid coloring, or were replaced in very damp -ground by sphagnum. - -As we neared the slopes of Paugus the trees became larger and the forest -clear of undergrowth. Our road—a very old one—was most clearly marked by -being densely grown with weeds, and an inferior crop of trees and -bushes. As compared with the clear forest, the road was a ribbon-like -jungle. Its young growth was composed of viburnums, slender maples, and -cherry-trees. Spots where the cattle had been fed could be picked out by -means of the asters, clover, and other flowers and weeds which had -sprung up from the seeds sown by the fodder. - -In the edge of the high growth we halted a second time, and called the -birds together. They failed not to respond, and when their chattering -was at its height the familiar “_who-hoo, hoo-hoo, who-hoo-hoo-hooo_” of -a barred owl was heard. The birds became silent and most of them -disappeared, perhaps to scold the real owl. Many of the trees in this -belt of forest were nearly a hundred feet in height. - -Well up towards the high ridges of Paugus our road crossed the Oliverian -Brook. The point chosen twenty years ago by the lumberman-engineer for -building his bridge was a ravine of singularly picturesque character. -Thirty feet below its two precipitous banks the noisy torrent struggled -among its boulders. Dozens of dark spruces overhung it, and rank upon -rank of evergreens lined the banks. In the bed of the brook the -lumbermen had built up in “cob-house” fashion two log abutments about -twenty-five feet high. From each bank immense logs were run out to rest -upon the abutments, and similar logs formed the central span. Then -scores of shorter logs were laid across from girder to girder, and all -were firmly bound together by heavy side-logs laid on top of and -parallel to the girders. We decided to cross this bridge, although it -was falling to pieces. Many of the short logs had rotted off and fallen -through. We walked upon the girders, the whole bridge trembling -ominously under our tread. Our dog, foolish as he was, knew enough not -to cross this bridge, for after inspecting it he whined, ran down the -bank, plunged through the stream, and clambered up the other side. - -At half past two we had reached rather high land. The road was fast -climbing the flank of Paugus, following a minor branch of the Oliverian -Brook. Just across this little run rose the gloomiest grove of spruces -we had seen. It stood upon a bank fifty feet above the road and brook. I -clambered up to it, and forced my way through its dense tangle. To my -surprise I found that it was only about thirty feet wide, growing on a -mere tongue of land between two mountain gorges. On the farther side the -land fell off abruptly two or three hundred feet, and down in the shades -below still another branch of the Oliverian fretted in its bed. Beyond -it was another ridge, over which, a mile and more away, grim -Passaconaway frowned across at me. A white cloud-banner streamed from -his spruce-crowned head. To the serious detriment of my clothes I -climbed a tall spruce on the edge of the ravine in order to determine -our position. Behind us was Paugus, its summits within comparatively -easy reach. From them I could have looked down at my snow-covered home -by Chocorua lakes. Westward, just across the forest basin on whose edge -we stood, was Passaconaway. Northward the eye wandered downward over -gently sloping tree-tops to the broad snowy intervale with its cozy -farms and its one long, straight road, running from west to east, from -the forests by Sabba Day Brook, down Swift River, through its gorges -towards Conway. Above and beyond the intervale were the northern -mountains which lock it in from the rest of the world,—Bear Mountain on -the right, then Owl’s Head, Carrigain, Green’s Cliffs, Sugar Hill, and -Kancamagus. The notch east of Carrigain is one of the grandest rifts in -the White Mountain panorama. It is like a black gateway opened for -storms and wailing winds to sweep through. - -The black grove on its narrow tongue of land hanging between two gorges -was alive with birds, and I fancied it to be their sleeping-place. -Chickadees, kinglets, and a brown creeper were in possession and -resented my intrusion. It was just such a place as I have always -imagined a small bird’s dormitory to be. - - [Illustration: FROST-COVERED SPRUCE NEAR THE SUMMIT OF PASSACONAWAY] - -We returned, descending by another logging road leading due north to the -intervale road about a mile below the Carrigain House. This logging road -is one of the most picturesque I have ever seen. It follows closely a -brook of considerable size which is one long series of pools, falls, and -dashing rapids. The forest on both sides of the brook bed is of high -growth and generous proportions. Every few moments a vista view of Bear -Mountain charmed us as we wound down the steep incline, while behind and -above us the ledges of Paugus, gleaming with ice and capped by snow, -showed at intervals through the trees. - - - - - AT THE FOOT OF PASSACONAWAY. - - -Wednesday, December 23, dawned under a damp sky. Tripyramid kept on his -nightcap, and patches of mist clung to the dark precipice of -Passaconaway. The mountains looked higher and more threatening than on -previous days, and they seemed closer to us than when the sun shone. A -whisper of falling drops and settling snow ruffled the morning calm. -Nevertheless, patches of blue sky showed in the west, and once or twice -a silvery spot in the clouds suggested the sun’s burning through. We -went first to see our favorite flock of birds at the cattle-trough in -the pasture. They were there in full force, nearly if not quite a -hundred strong. They allowed me to come within about twenty feet of -them, and to watch them narrowly through my glass. Rather more than half -were red crossbills. Of the remainder, two thirds were pine finches, and -one third goldfinches. No red-polls were to be seen. The coloring in the -crossbills was amazingly diverse. There were very brilliant males with -cinnabar tints wherever such color is ever found. From this maximum of -intensity their coloring graded downward through partial red markings on -the one hand, and through gradually fading red markings on the other. I -saw one bird with red on his rump only. The fading from red to yellow -yielded many gradations of red and yellow or orange down to pure gold. -The brown birds were the more numerous, and they seemed to have various -combinations of light and dark, with now and then suggestions of bright -tints. In some individuals the mandibles crossed in one way, and in -others the opposite way. In size the crossbills varied widely. Often, in -glancing quickly at a group, I mistook the smaller, duller birds for -pine finches. A dozen times in as many minutes the flock whirled upwards -and round and round, showering the air with their delicious medley -music. Generally from three to six old birds remained in one of the two -spruces near the fence by the trough, and a sharp call from them brought -the flock down again like a fall of hail. - -When we had walked a mile up the valley a shower struck us, and we -waited a few moments under the shelter of an old house from which the -wall boards had been removed. We heard sweet bird notes, but could not -locate the singers. When we turned to go, however, a flock of sixteen -snow-buntings rose from a field where they had been feeding in the -yellow grasses, and vibrated away with merry calls until swallowed up in -fog and rain. - -The wasting of the snow under the hot sun of Monday and the cloudy sky -but mild air of Tuesday had left many plants and dried flower-stalks -exposed to view. Plum-colored masses of berry bushes encroached upon the -wide expanse of snow as headlands reach out into a calm sea. Tiny -forests of wiry grass reared their heads above the snow. In color they -were what is called “sandy.” Goldenrod and aster stems, holding aloft -dry and brittle suggestions of long-lost flowers; the heads of brunella, -looking like chess castles, and of the Indian pipe, upright and -pineapple-shaped; and many delicate hairlike stems from which all trace -of leaf and flower had departed, broke the evenness of the snow fields, -and were beautiful in an unassuming, unconscious, unintentional way. -Indeed, many of them had never shone with beauty before. In summer, -submerged in the wilderness of green things which crowd the unplowed -intervale, they could not have been found by the eye of any one in -chance passing. But in winter, the time of their nominal beauty gone, -they lingered in their old age, and looked more beautiful in their -bleached simplicity than those summer flowers which never gave them a -chance to reveal what was in them. - -At the end of the intervale, instead of plunging into the woods where -our barred owl lived, we turned southward towards the foot of -Passaconaway. The rough road led through the forest to a saw-mill under -the shoulder of the first ridge of the mountains. Downes Brook had been -partially dammed to form a pond, upon which hundreds of logs lay -awaiting their fate. At the foot of the dam stood the mill. Its lower -story was an engine-room. A steam-engine of considerable power worked -four saws, a planer, and an endless chain used to draw in logs from the -ice. At the dam end these logs were being drawn in upon the floor, -measured, and marked. Then they went to the first and largest saw, which -cut off their slabs, reduced them to boards or planks, and sent them -along to the second saw to have their ends squared. From the second saw -they went to the third, where their sides were made equal, and hence -through the planer, out at the lower end of the mill, down a chute to a -platform where they were piled, ready to be hauled away. The fourth saw -was used to cut the slabs and edge-cuttings into the right lengths for -fuel; for not only the engine demon in the under story fed on wood, but -all the people in the intervale burned slabs. About twelve men were -employed in the upper part of the mill, some Americans, some French -Canadians, and some Irishmen. One young Frenchman was a picture of dirty -beauty and health. His jet-black hair, reeking with oil, was plastered -in a curve over his forehead. His mustache was curling, and his snapping -eyes, dark skin, rosy cheeks, and powerful but rather gross body made a -striking picture for a day laborer. - -Leaving the mill with its distracting noise, we ascended the main -logging road towards Passaconaway. It follows Downes Brook southward, -now clinging to one hillside, then crossing the ice-bound torrent by a -rude but massive bridge of spruce logs to stay for a while on the -opposite bank. On each side the timber had been cut and hauled away. The -survival of the unfittest is the rule in the forest after the lumber -thief has been through it. He leaves the crooked, the feeble, and the -diseased trees, and packs around their roots the fertilizing branches -and tops of the logs which he hauls away. On our way up we met several -teams coming down the slippery, sloppy road. Two strong Canadian horses, -low sleds, three great logs chained together and to the sleds, and an -oily, tobacco-chewing French Canadian made up a team. We stopped and -talked to one driver, who said that if the snow went off they would keep -on with their hauling, using the runners on the bare ground. While he -chatted with us he fed his nigh horse on pieces of chewing tobacco, -which the horse took from his fingers or bit from the plug. We were told -later that this is a common form of attention for the drivers to show -their favorite horses. The horse swallowed the tobacco. About half a -mile above the mill we came to the logging camp. There was a compact log -stable, a log smithy manned by a sturdy Frenchman in moccasins who spoke -very little English, and a living-house made of slabs covered with -tarred paper well battened down. The house stood on a ribbon of ground -between the road and the steep edge of the torrent. Entering through a -low shed at the southern or upper end of the shanty, we found ourselves -in the kitchen and dining-room. The room contained two cook-stoves and -three long, narrow board tables with benches facing them. The tables -were set for thirty-five men, allowing about twenty inches of space for -each man. We were welcomed by the cook, a New Englander, who boasted of -having cooked in lumber camps for twenty years. He prided himself on his -bread, and cut a loaf to show its quality. I never ate better bread -anywhere. The dishes on the table were simple,—tin plates, tin cups, -bottles of vinegar, pitchers of maple syrup, tins holding mountains of -yellow butter, and plates piled high with “fried holes,” as doughnuts -are graphically termed. Baked beans are a staple dish, but I noticed a -barrel of pork at the door, and lying on the woodpile a big bundle of -codfish and a side of beef certified as good by the Hon. Jere. Rusk. - -The sleeping-room of the camp was not attractive. It was dark, hot, -stuffy in odor, and overcrowded. Rude bunks, three tiers deep, lined the -side walls. The men turn into these pens with their clothes on, often -wet with rain or snow. Teamsters are roused at four A. M.; the rest of a -“crew” somewhat later. In winter, four A. M. and midnight are equally -gloomy, and if either is colder it is the morning hour. The cook said he -could remember but one case of serious illness in his logging camps. The -grip, he said, seldom kept a man from work more than one or two days. He -expressed great fondness for birds, and spoke of the daily visits of -crossbills, and in some years of moose-birds. “They know their friends, -as most dumb beasts do,” he declared, and went on to tell of a terrible -storm of snow and sleet which came one winter, threatening death to his -pets. “I just opened my camp doors and called and whistled to my birds, -and in they came, dozens of ’em, until every beam and perch in the camp -was full of ’em.” - -We strolled up the road for a mile or more beyond the camp. At several -points deposits of logs had been made at the sides of the road. Several -hundred logs lay in each pile. Near by, hemlock bark was stacked in long -rows, flanking the road. We crossed the torrent twice on spruce bridges, -and each time gained a magnificent view of Passaconaway. It was framed -in black clouds, rushing masses of vapor, and dark hillsides still laden -with forests. In the foreground was the foaming stream, boulder-choked, -bounding towards us. From this side Passaconaway shows no peak; it is -simply a somewhat worn cube, to whose precipitous faces the forests -cling and the snows freeze. Its coloring is dark in any light, but as we -saw it through the gathering storm of that late December day a more -forbidding mountain mass could hardly be imagined. It was so near us, -yet so high above us; so black, so cold, so lonely, yet so full of -nature’s voices, the wailing of wind, the cruel rush of waters, the -weird creaking of strained trees. The stream, with its greenish waters -hurling themselves over the boulders and fretting against the ice sheets -projecting from the banks, seemed like a messenger rushing headlong from -the mountain to warn us back from impending danger. - -Resting for a while under the shelter of a giant hemlock, we called the -birds. Two or three chickadees and two kinglets came to us, but they -were subdued by the storm and shy about getting wet. Then we walked -briskly homeward, the rain falling in earnest during the latter part of -the way. A snowy fog rose from all parts of the valley, spreading most -rapidly from the western end. The flat fields of snow vanished first; -then the damp veil crept up the dark spruces and hid their tops; and -finally mountain peak after mountain peak surrendered to the rising -tide, and we were left alone in the dense fog with only a narrow circle -of steaming snow around us. As the day wore on, rain fell faster and -harder, the wind rose, it grew colder, and the blackness of the winter -night would have been terrible but for the peace and comfort within -doors. On such a night the deer in their “yards” must shiver with the -chilling dampness; the grouse must find the snow too wet to sleep in; -and foxes and rabbits, if they leave their dens and forms at all, must -regret the hunger which drives them out. Where are the crossbills and -siskins? I wish that I knew and could find them out, and take a friendly -look at their ruffled feathers, their heads tucked under their wings, -and perhaps dozens of their plump little bodies snuggled together in a -dark, dry spruce. - - - - - CHRISTMAS AT SABBA DAY FALLS. - - -Christmas Day was warm, cloudy at best, densely foggy at worst. Soon -after breakfast we were swinging westward up the valley road, determined -to find Sabba Day Falls or perish in the attempt. As we passed the -crossbill feeding-ground no birds were in sight, but a moment later, -high in the air, we heard bird voices. Looking skyward, we saw a flock -of from one to two hundred birds whirling round and round, like ashes -drawn upwards over a fire. They were at a very great height, and were -gradually rising. As they increased their distance they disappeared and -reappeared several times; then they vanished wholly, swallowed up in the -high air. I think they were our crossbills, goldfinches, and siskins, -and that they were soaring in search of fair weather, perhaps intending -to migrate to some other favorite haunt. Christmas Day is not a time -when one expects much color in a White Mountain landscape, but the warm -air, the moisture, and the contrasts against snow below and fog above -combined to produce and to make evident a great deal of exquisite -tinting in the shrubs of the fields and the forests of the mountain -spurs. As we strode up the line of yellow mud which made the road, our -path was bordered by shallow snow from which sprung an abundant growth -of hardback and spiræa. Taken in masses, their stems made a rich maroon, -somewhat dull near by, but warm and deep when seen across an acre of -snow. A foot or two higher than these small shrubs were viburnums and -small cherry and maple trees growing along the skirts of the forest. -Their general tone was also dull red, though somewhat brighter than the -spiræa. The next band of color was ashy mottled with dark green, and -made probably by young birches, poplars, beeches, and hemlocks. Then -came a belt of fog mingled with snowy smoke from the saw-mill, and above -that a broad band of ashes-of-rose color, formed by the upper branches -and twigs of the common deciduous trees. Above all were the spruces, -always dark except when the piercing eye of the sun reveals the -wonderful golden olive which they keep for him alone. - -The smoke of the saw-mill showed that the timber-eater finds no time for -remembering the birthday of Jesus. Teams were moving as usual, carrying -the green lumber down to the railway. The men employed to demolish our -forests are poorly paid. A dollar a day and board is what the French -Canadian receives here. Board is called fifty cents a day, and the -married workman with a houseful of children lives on that sum. We passed -the home of a French Canadian known in the valley as Bumblebee. The -house is twelve feet long by ten feet deep. The ridgepole is twelve feet -from the ground. The chimney is a piece of stove-pipe. The walls are -made of boards, battened, and the roof is unshingled. Bumblebee has five -children, the eldest being eight. His wife’s mind is affected. The -standing timber, the mill, the lumber railway, and many of the dwellings -and small farms belong to non-residents, whose only object is to shear -the mountains, squeeze the laborers, and keep Congress from putting -lumber on the free list. - -Not far beyond Bumblebee’s one-room house we entered the primeval -forest. We were following the trail through the snow made by us on -Sunday. When a quarter of a mile in, we were surprised to find a bear -track crossing our path at right angles. The huge brute had passed that -way on Tuesday or Wednesday, judging by the condition of the snow. On -reaching the spot where we had aroused a barred owl on Sunday, we hid -under some small hemlocks, thereby getting a thorough sprinkling, and I -hooted. After my third attempt, I saw a great bird fly through the woods -to a point only a hundred yards distant. In a moment or two I hooted -again, and then made the fine squeaking noise which a mouse makes. The -owl came nearer, and at once began hooting. During nearly ten minutes, -in which we kept up a lively exchange of hoots, he varied his notes in -several ways, sometimes keeping on, without pausing, from one series of -hoots to another. I never heard a more talkative owl. At last he flew -into a tree so near us that I could see him clearly through my glass. As -he hooted, his throat swelled and pulsated. He searched the trees and -the ground with his keen dark eyes. When at last he saw me, I seemed to -feel the force of his glare. Then he turned his head to the left and -flew away with long, soft sweeps of his wings. At a distance he resumed -his hooting, which we could hear for some time as we strolled on up -Sabba Day Brook. What we had supposed to be the river, on Sunday, proved -to be Sabba Day Brook itself. The water was high, most of the ice had -gone, and all the small brooks poured in liberal streams. In one pool I -observed a small trout. At last we heard the thunder of the falls, and -looked forward eagerly to see them. The stream seemed to issue from the -solid rock, for directly across the channel rose a cliff of dark granite -crowned with black spruces and one or two pines whose lofty tops were -pale in the fog. As we drew near, the majestic beauty of the place -became apparent. At the foot of the black cliff was a deep pool full of -strange colors,—greens, olives, and white. The waters in it were -restless, rising and settling back, but forever washing the sides of -their basin. Four gigantic icicles hung from the top of the cliff, -extending to the bottom. One of them, at its lower end, touched a flat -shelf of rock, and so became a graceful column supporting the -overhanging mosses from which it started. Another adhered to the rock -all the way, and was a crystalline pilaster. The other two were free -throughout the whole of their thirty feet of length, and tapered to -needle points threatening the pool below. The colors in the pool were in -fact borrowed from the mosses and ferns which grew in masses at the -sides and upon the top of the cliff. Living in perpetual dampness, these -exquisite plants flourish and become perfect examples of their kind. The -trailing fern fronds were as green and as clean in outline as in summer. -They sprang from beds of mosses wonderful in tints. Some were golden -olive, others pale green, and still others blood red. Pressed against -the upper edge of the black cliff, they were like a garland of bright -flowers on the forehead of some sullen warrior. - -The water did not pour into this pool from the cliff, but came to it -through a narrow flume or gap in the solid rock which had been concealed -from us as we ascended the stream by the high wooded bank opposite the -cliff. On reaching the edge of the pool, in the chill shadow of the -black rock, we looked up the flume between narrow walls of dark gray -granite, and saw, thirty feet or more beyond, another pool, into which -was pouring from the left a great sheet of water. This fall, coming from -a point fifty or sixty feet above us, and on the extreme left of the -flume, had its side towards us; yet, after its green waters struck the -upper pool and struggled there awhile, they came through the flume as -their only outlet. Clambering up the right-hand or north bank, we gained -a point where we could see all the details of this strange cataract. - -Sabba Day Brook above the falls flows nearly due east. It strikes a -rocky hillside and is deflected to the left by a sharp curve, so that it -runs due north. In this direction it has worn a sloping passage to the -edge of the falls. Dropping fifty feet into a great pot-hole, it turns -abruptly to the east and flows out through the flume into the green -pool, past the black ledge, and then, turning slightly towards the -north, hurries on from basin to rapid on its way to the intervale. -Standing on a shelf of snow-covered rock overhanging the angle in the -fall, we first looked up at the water leaving its level above and -hurrying towards its leap, and then down at the boiling pool below and -the dashing water in the flume. These falls must be beautiful in summer, -with sunlight playing in the leaves, blue sky lending color to the -water, and rainbow tints gleaming in the uprising spray. They were also -beautiful to-day,—Christmas Day,—when the loneliness of winter was -brooding over the mountains, when ice and snow mingled in the -surroundings of the falls, and when the gay coloring of the summer -forest was replaced by the sombre tones of leafless trees. In summer -some trace of man might have jarred upon the perfect solitude of the -spot and made it seem less pure. As it was, standing in the untrodden -snow, surrounded by the fog, the wild stream, the ice-sheathed rocks, I -felt as one might if suffered to land for a while upon some far planet, -strange to man, and consecrated to eternal cold and solitude. - -We turned away reluctantly and entered the old forest which stands -between Sabba Day Brook and Swift River, a quarter of a mile to the -north. The rumble of the falls grew fainter and fainter, then ceased. -Blue jays flew through the tree-tops; a great hawk floated by above the -trees; kinglets and a brown creeper lisped to us; chickadees, -nuthatches, downy woodpeckers, and a great flock of singing siskins came -in answer to our whistles; and red squirrels scolded us from their -tree-strongholds. When we reached Swift River, we found it broad, still, -and without a log or stones to cross upon. Having on water-tight -hip-boots, I waded the stream, bearing my companion upon my shoulders. -Entering a swamp on the farther shore, we observed fresh hedgehog -tracks. In one place the fat beast had lain down in the snow, and some -of his soft quills had frozen to his bed and pulled out when he trundled -his body along again. At every labored step he left the print of his -body in the snow, making a track as conspicuous as a man’s. In a tangle -of yew branches he had paused and nibbled bark from several stems. After -following his trail a hundred yards or more, we lost it in a spruce -thicket where the snow had melted. - -At the extreme western end of Swift River intervale stands a hill seven -or eight hundred feet high, having long sloping lines and a pointed top. -It is called Sugarloaf. Its sides are covered with as fine a growth of -ancient trees as it is often one’s fortune to find in New England. As -this growth includes few spruces, hemlocks, or pines, it has escaped the -timber fiends. There are among its trees giant yellow birches, -saffron-colored in the mist; beeches a century old, with trunks moulded -into shapes suggestive of human limbs strong in muscles, rock maples -eighty or ninety feet high and hemlocks with coarse bark unbroken by -limbs until, a hundred feet from the hillside, a mat of their interwoven -branches finds the sunlight. The cultivated fields and pasture lands of -the intervale are singularly free from rocks. Here and there a great -boulder can be found, but it is conspicuous in its loneliness. On this -hillside, however, boulders of all shapes and sizes are strewn. Most of -them are about the size of a load of hay. They are covered with showy -lichens and the greenest of green mosses. Selecting one at the very -summit of the hill, we searched under its overhanging sides for dry -leaves and twigs. Then we broke an old stump into pieces and tore the -curling bark from a prostrate birch. All this material was more or less -damp, but by patience we secured a little bed of coals which soon dried -the rest of our fuel, so that before long a bright blaze and a warm glow -gladdened our eyes and comforted our chilled bodies. Then came our -cheery Christmas dinner in the primeval forest, upon a snow-covered -hillside, under the projecting face of a great rock, beneath which we -sat, with a ruddy fire crackling in front of us. Never Christmas dinner -went straighter to the right spot. - -While we were resting and enjoying our fire, a flock of sweet-voiced -pine grosbeaks came to neighboring tree-tops, a white-bellied nuthatch -hung head downwards from a beech-trunk, and two downy woodpeckers called -uneasily to each other. At last we extinguished our fire and descended -the hill. Five grouse flew noisily from the hillside. Through the trees -we could see the white ice on Church’s Pond, and towards it we made our -way. The pond is the last remnant of the great lake which in distant -ages filled the whole of this intervale. Even now an area twenty times -as large as the lake adjoins its water, and is almost level with it, -being covered with sphagnum, laurel, pitcher-plant, and other bog -growth, and offering very uncertain footing. Reaching the pond, we -circled around it on the ice, cautiously keeping close to the shore, -although a yoke of oxen could probably have blundered across without -danger. While we were on the lake the sunset hour passed, and a dense -fog crept down upon the serrated spruce forest which borders the water. -Three pine grosbeaks flew into the advancing mists, talking in gentle -music to one another. One was left on a dead tree in the bog, and -uttered a plaintive cry again and again. Leaving the ice, we struck -across the frozen bog, now and then breaking through the soft places, -but generally finding ice or roots to sustain our weary feet. As we -progressed, we gathered an armful of club-mosses and a bunch of -checkerberry plants bearing their gay fruit. The fog closed in around -us, and the air became chilly. Not a mountain could we see. It was a -relief to strike firm soil, though it was only a few inches higher than -the bog. Presently we came to the river, and for a second time I -shouldered my friend and took him over dryshod. After doing the same, a -few moments later, at Sabba Day Brook, we gained the end of the -intervale road near Bumblebee’s hut. It was now growing dark, yet a mile -of yellow mud still lay before us. Colors had faded; the graceful -outlines of the forest were dimmed; nothing but the martial spruces -remained with us, drawn up in stiff lines beside the road. - -When we reached home, the Christmas greens and checkerberries were made -by our inexperienced fingers into a cross, a wreath, and a long strip -for festooning. These we presented to the three-year-old Lily of the -intervale, whose ideas of Christmas had been obscured by the fact that -no one had given her any presents. These offerings made matters better -with her, and I fancied that she pommeled her four kittens less -mercilessly than usual, as she gazed at the Christmas greens, and said -many times to her grandmother, “Man dave dose to Diddy, he did.” - - - - - DOWN THE TORRENT’S PATHWAY. - - -Saturday, December 26, our last day in the intervale, was the least -pleasant of our visit. At eight A. M. fog covered the mountains, the -forests, and everything, in fact, save a few acres of deep straw-colored -field on which only a few soiled patches of snow remained. The engine -came in promptly, but found no cars loaded, and went back to Bartlett -without freight. About nine o’clock the millmen came home and said there -were no logs at the saw-mill, the Frenchmen having been drunk on -Christmas. There were rumors of fights among the revelers. About ten -o’clock, having finished our packing, we took a short stroll in the -rain. There were kinglets in the woods by the roadside, but no -crossbills could be found at their favorite feeding-ground. I think they -migrated Christmas morning. - -We crossed Swift River on the railway bridge and entered the tract of -densely wooded swamp which occupies much of the northern side of the -intervale. It was at this point that my friend saw the deer on Tuesday. -As we strolled along the track, the voices of birds could be heard on -our left. Petulant, and even angry cries came from the damp shades. We -stopped and listened, and I said, “It sounds to me as though an owl were -being worried in there.” Then I entered the spruces, going very slowly -and cautiously. Chickadees, nuthatches, and kinglets were chattering and -scolding. I pressed in, sometimes working my way on hands and knees over -the snow which still remained under the cover of the dense woods. By and -by I could see some of the birds. They were evidently greatly excited, -and they all seemed to be looking at the same thing,—a something around -which they formed a circle. I crept on. Fully twenty small birds were in -sight. Three at least were the weak-voiced, sputtering Hudson Bay -titmice. Their clamor was continuous. When they saw me, they moved about -and scolded at me somewhat. I closely scrutinized the tree which seemed -to be the focus of their wrath. A dark brown object projected from the -shelter of the trunk. It twitched. I wriggled on a foot or two more, and -as I did so a strange little face peered around the tree-trunk, and -wild, yellow eyes glared at me from a white face framed in a chocolate -brown hood. I fairly held my breath and half closed my eyes while the -tiny owl stared at me. Slowly he looked away, and flew a few feet to -another spruce branch. He was now facing me, and he watched me narrowly. -Most of his accusers had gone, and soon all departed, the rain falling -more briskly, and a cold easterly wind shaking moisture from the trees. -The little owl shook himself and seemed melancholy. He was getting wet, -and he did not like my looks at all. He flew again, and a second time I -kept him within sight. His eyes were encircled by discs of white -mingling with snowy eyebrows, so that nearly the whole of his -monkey-like countenance was white. The back and top of his head were -brown, and the same dark color closed in round his neck and throat, as a -baby’s cap closes round its face. The owl’s breast was light, and marked -by several broad perpendicular stripes of reddish brown. His back was -dark, and so were his wings, save for some white spots. From the crown -of his downy head to the soles of his wicked little clawed feet, this -tiny Acadian measured not more than seven or eight inches. - -My constant watching made the little fellow very uneasy. He flew nine -times from branch to branch or tree to tree, yet I managed to follow him -closely. From one of his perches he could not see my face well, and it -was amusing to see him stretch himself to his full height and peep over -the obscuring branch. On another perch he was perfectly in view. As he -watched me he tipped his head first on one side, then on the other. Then -he would poke it forward or swing it round on his supple little neck, -and strive to get my measure if not my purposes. I squeaked like a -mouse, and he became agitated, looking keenly at the snow near me. -Suddenly, without warning, he flew into a long, narrow opening in the -spruces and disappeared in its windings. Our search for him was in vain, -and we hurried home to dry ourselves once again before taking our long -drive to Conway. - -One o’clock saw us beneath a huge cotton umbrella, packed under a fur -robe, on the back seat of a light two-horse wagon. The east wind beat -fiercely in our faces, and the horses shook their heads and danced as -the rain stung them. The cloud masses rolled through the valley, eddying -between the mountains much as the Swift River whirls around its -boulders. Sometimes the mists opened and a dark face of forest or damp -rock showed for a moment. With a crack of the whip and a good-by to our -hostess we dashed away. Through the window I caught a last glimpse of -little Diddy, curled up on a big feather-bed, taking her midday nap. -Then flying mud, rain, horses, and soaking forests alone met the eye, -and we hurried eastward. - -The level intervale was soon left behind, and the road began the descent -towards the Saco. Swift River roared below us; brooks came tumbling down -their rough channels, poured under or across the road, and merged their -currents in the river’s. The trees swayed and shook rain from their -shoulders. Now in front of us, now to our left, the madly descending -river and its presiding mountain walls were always in sight. The bare -faces of the ledges, the rent hillsides and sloping sand-banks, the -boulders heaped in countless numbers in the river bed, all told of -forgotten days like this day of storm-fury, when the waters of the -pent-up lake in the valley we had left rebelled against these hillsides -and ledges, and tore them in fragments, sweeping over them towards the -liberty of water,—the sea. - -The northern spurs of Chocorua came towards us through the mist as -though to crush us; but the horses dashed on, leaving their threatening -heights behind. Then Bear Mountain’s black spruces and glistening cliffs -barred our way; but we followed the river’s lead and came out into the -pastures and fields next to Moat. After nearly three hours of soaking, -our steaming horses drew up at Conway station, and we were left to dry -and await the train. Letters accumulated during the week made the time -pass quickly until the train came and we were fairly homeward bound. The -storm hid the mountains and half obscured Six Mile Pond and its ragged -pitch-pine shores. Rain—cold, stinging, winter rain—beat upon the -Bearcamp, Salmon Falls, the Piscataqua, and the Merrimac. The night -inside of Salem tunnel was no darker than the night on Saugus marshes, -and even the myriad lights of Boston reflected in the Mystic only made -the winter gloom more visible. As I struggled through the Saturday-night -crowd on the narrow streets near the stations, and marked the faces of -waif and thief, drunkard, jester, sordid vender of evil wares, weary -workman or thrice weary workwoman, my heart was heavier than it had been -in the wild valley back of Passaconaway. Even Bumblebee, with his sick -wife and five children, crowded into one room in that hut by Sabba Day -Brook, had something of life of which this foul city humanity knows -nothing. Certainly Bumblebee’s boys lack the chance to absorb the virus -of the slums which the wretched waifs of the streets have. As I waited -for my Cambridge car, the stream of humanity surged and eddied round me -and the foul fog hung over us. Swift River, plunging on resistlessly -towards the sea, is seeking rest, far away; but this stream of -humanity,—what is it seeking? To me it seemed to be seeking anything but -the rest, everything but the peace, to which its current ought to tend. - - [Illustration: MOAT MOUNTAIN AND THE SWIFT RIVER] - -Fast and furious as is the torrent of Swift River, its beginning is in -the heavens, and as long as the noble forests cloak the hills and guard -the springs, so long will its current be sustained by fresh supplies of -moisture drawn from the distant sea. This human current, coursing into -and through the city, draws a part of its strength from the hills. All -our New England uplands are draining their youth and strength into the -cities, but the ocean which these life-streams reach gives back no -gentle, purified life to fill the mountain farms. It takes all, pollutes -much, but yields nothing in return. - -A deep-toned bell in the Old North Church spoke to the foggy night. -Answering voices came from a dozen belfries. They seemed to call in -review the long year now drawing to its close. Years are as days to them -in their high places far above the human stream, but years are very real -to us who can count so few of them before we reach that wide Ocean -towards which our stream flows. The flower has a day for its year, the -gnat an hour. What a mighty harvest Death has reaped since this year -began; yet no one expects any shrinkage in the current of life in the -next year. The world’s rhythm will be just as strong, just as even, just -as full of joy to those who will accept joy as the birds accept it. -What, then, is death if it cannot diminish the sum total of creation’s -forces? Is it more than a transfer of energy from one point to another? -When the flower dies we can see and measure the transfer; when a man -dies we who live cannot see it all, but we can measure the poor shell -which is left to us and feel sure, terribly sure at first, joyously sure -in time, that all which was there in life is not still there; that -something has been transferred where we can neither see nor measure it. - -The year begins in snow and ends in snow. When it begins, the pendulum -of life is far up at the left of its arc, all its force is gathered in -position, none is displayed in motion. But suddenly the pendulum begins -to move; it is falling; it moves faster and faster towards the right. -Then it is that snows melt, buds swell, birds come northward singing, -dormant creatures leave their caves, and all Nature displays her latent -energy in motion. Just when the motion of the pendulum is fastest it -passes that middle and lowest point in its arc and begins to turn its -momentum into the force of position. Up it goes, and as it ascends to -the far right, it goes more and more slowly until finally it stops. This -upward swing in Nature begins when the first flowers fade, the first -nestlings are hatched, and the first leaves fall. In summer we do not -always notice the lessening speed of Nature’s motions; not until autumn -comes do we realize that the days are shorter, the sun’s rays less warm, -the birds fewer, and vegetation almost without power of growth. In -December the pendulum stops and all that Nature has of energy is latent, -awaiting the turn in the world’s rhythm. - -The baby, gurgling and cooing in its basket, is full of latent forces. -As life goes on, these powers are exercised more and more to the flood, -less and less as the tide ebbs. Yet who is there who dares to say that -when old age is reached there is not as much laid by in that soul -wrapped in its weary body as there was in the infant full of latent -power? We know not where the infant’s forces came from, nor where the -dying man’s energy goes to, but if Nature teaches us anything, it -teaches us that forces such as these are eternal in the same sense that -matter is eternal and space endless. - - - - - INDEX - - - A - Albany, 44, 212, 217, 230. - Alder, 196, 212. - Amelanchier, 195. - American holly, 195. - Ant, 182. - Apple-tree, 195. - Arenaria grœnlandica, 26. - Arrowhead, 47. - Ash 4. - Aster, 39, 47, 134, 153, 176, 259, 266. - - - B - Balsam fir, 22, 149. - Barberry, 195. - Bat, 76, 98, 132. - Bear, 35, 82-95, 148, 153, 233, 275. - Bearcamp Valley, 23, 43, 168, 195, 214. - Bearcamp Water, 23, 43, 290. - Bee, 86, 135, 139, 181, 185. - Beech, 15, 49, 50, 179, 187, 188, 196, 208, 246, 274, 281. - Birch, 7, 195, 207, 246, 274; - canoe, 4, 39, 50, 85; - gray, 38, 139; - yellow, 4, 49, 281. - Birch Intervale, 71, 257. - Bittern, 30, 36. - Blackberry, 12, 48, 179, 191. - Blueberry, 40, 89, 93, 191, 195. - Bluebird, 125, 126, 165, 170. - Bobolink, 126. - Boston, 228, 290. - Bristletails, 181. - Brown creeper, 165, 262, 280. - Brunella, 12, 47, 266. - Buttercups, 181, 259. - - - C - Caddis-worm, 59. - Campton, 23, 43. - Catbird, 98, 114, 116, 130. - Cedar-bird, 103, 107, 116, 120, 130, 143. - Champney Falls brook, 154. - Checkerberry, 12, 39, 204, 259, 283. - Chewink, 226. - Chickadee, blackcap, 7, 11, 107, 113, 119, 130, 143, 165, 184, - 202, 241, 253, 262, 272, 286; - Hudson Bay, 218, 254, 258, 286. - Chocorua Lake, 10, 71, 89, 97, 171, 182, 217. - Chocorua River, 225. - Choke-cherry, 179. - Church’s Pond, 243, 282. - Clematis, 196. - Clintonia, 48. - Clover, red, 12, 181; - white, 12, 181, 259; - yellow, 12. - Club-mosses, 204, 283. - Conway, 43, 44, 71, 230, 232, 289. - Cornel, 12, 39, 40, 48. - Crickets, 181. - Crossbill, red, 239, 244, 248, 257, 264; - white, 250. - Crow, 3, 11, 13, 99, 102, 103, 106, 143, 164, 173. - - - D - Daisy, 12. - Dalibarda, 47. - Deer, 25, 35, 255, 258. - Diervilla, 24. - Dogbane, 9, 12. - Downes brook, 267, 268. - Dragonfly, 13, 114, 182. - Duck, black, 36, 128, 160, 165; - sheldrake, 128, 212; - wood, 36, 128, 225. - - - E - Eagle, 127. - Evening primrose, 12. - - - F - Ferns, 2, 3, 19, 22, 39, 85, 134, 143, 179, 259, 277. - Fireweed, 49, 196. - Flax, 89, 126. - Fleabane, 12. - Fly, 74, 181, 207. - Fox, 30, 133, 205, 243, 258. - Frog, 36, 98, 106, 114; - wood, 14, 186. - Fungi, 48, 59. - - - G - Geese, 128. - Goldenrod, 11, 26, 39, 40, 45, 47, 134, 153, 176, 181, 196, 203, - 204, 266. - Goldfinch, 102, 107, 124, 125, 143, 165, 239, 244, 264. - Grasshopper, 204. - Grouse, 14, 63, 121, 186, 227, 255, 256, 282; - Canada, 155. - Gull, herring, 129. - - - H - Hardback, 47, 274. - Hare, 1, 133, 205, 252, 254, 258. - Harvest-fly, 119. - Hawk, 205, 250, 258, 280; - Cooper’s, 14, 37, 110, 127; - marsh, 37; - red-shouldered, 37, 100; - sharp-shinned, 110, 127, 160. - Hawkweed, 181. - Hemlock, 49, 149, 188, 272, 274. - Heron, blue, 30, 36, 42, 108-110, 117, 127; - night, 36, 128. - Honeysuckle, 88. - Hornet, 87, 93. - Hornpout, 37, 41. - Houstonia, 12, 40, 203. - Huckleberry, 179. - Humming-bird, 38, 107, 116, 139. - Hyla, 119. - - - I - Immortelles, 47, 176. - Indian pipe, 13, 48, 266. - - - J - Jay, blue, 6, 101, 110, 130, 131, 143, 165, 241, 245, 258, 280; - Canada, 155, 270. - Junco, 25, 69, 80, 124, 164, 173, 202, 248. - - - K - Kingbird, 101, 105, 111, 114, 116. - Kingfisher, 36, 102. - Kinglet, 120, 143, 165, 202, 248, 250, 253, 262, 272, 280, 285. - - - L - Lambkill, 24, 192, 282. - Larch, 195. - Least flycatcher, 103, 107. - Lichen, 3, 4, 7, 23, 60, 259. - Linnæa, 8, 16, 21, 39. - Locust, 181, 185, 204. - Locust-tree, 126. - Loon, 128. - - - M - Madison, 198. - Maple, 48, 50, 54, 88, 134, 142, 153, 160, 203, 213, 259, 274. - Mayflower, 21, 39, 259. - Mink, 32, 258. - Mole, 139, 141, 145. - Morning-glory, 185. - Mosquito, 6. - Moss, 3, 19, 39, 60, 248, 259, 277. - Mountain, Anderson, 57, 66, 67; - Bald, 26, 205; - Bear, 57, 230, 234, 235, 236, 243-251, 263, 289; - Black (Sandwich Dome), 23, 63, 89, 178; - Bond, 57; - Carrigain, 57, 66, 67, 236, 249, 262; - Chocorua, 7, 8, 11, 23, 57, 62-81, 82, 90, 142, 154, 157, 178, - 201, 204-208, 216, 230, 236, 249, 289; - Franconia, 57, 66, 249; - Green’s Cliffs, 236, 262; - Kancamagus, 236, 243, 249, 262; - Lowell, 57, 66, 67, 236; - Moat, 230, 232, 233, 249, 289; - Nancy, 57, 66, 67; - Osceola, 236; - Ossipee, 23, 193, 228; - Pequawket, 71, 232, 249; - Passaconaway, 23, 44, 146, 154, 178, 201, 236, 249, 257, 261, - 271; - Paugus, 23, 43, 52, 57, 144, 146-156, 178, 201, 236, 257, 261; - Presidential, 66; - Sandwich, 23, 146, 169, 230; - Tremont, 236, 262; - Tripyramid, 66, 236, 243, 249; - Washington 193, 232, 249; - Whiteface, 23, 63, 178, 201; - Whittier, 178; - Willey, 57. - Mountain ash, 44, 88, 89, 134, 153. - Mouse, 74, 132-145, 186, 205, 258. - Mullein, 47. - Muskrat, 31. - - - N - Night-hawk, 37, 38, 77, 100, 123. - Nuthatch, red-bellied, 119, 130, 143, 165, 241, 246, 248, 250, - 280, 286; - white-bellied, 120, 165, 246, 253, 282. - - - O - Oak, 29, 88, 132, 179, 191, 196, 204, 208, 225. - Oliverian brook, 257-261. - Olive-sided flycatcher, 53, 105. - Orchis, 3, 21. - Osprey, 127, 130, 202. - Ossipee Lake, 71, 190, 214. - Owl, Acadian, 287; - barred, 36, 100, 116, 132, 183, 241, 260, 276. - Oxalis, 21. - - - P - Partridge-berry, 16, 259. - Paugus Falls, 151, 155. - Paugus River, 147, 219, 223. - Pemigewasset Valley, 43, 178. - Pewee, bridge, 107, 130, 160; - wood, 7. - Pickerel, 98, 114. - Pickerel-weed, 116. - Pine, pitch, 226; - white, 39, 97, 135, 171, 180, 183. - Pine finch, 239, 246, 248, 250, 253, 264, 280. - Pine grosbeak, 208, 250, 282. - Pine sap, 14. - Pipsissewa, 13, 39, 204. - Pitcher plant, 282. - Poplar, 7, 192, 207, 208, 274. - Porcupine, 34, 35, 56, 65, 133, 280. - Potentilla, 12, 26. - Purple finch, 124, 253. - Pyrola, 13. - - - R - Raccoon, 33, 258. - Rattlesnake plantain, 48. - Robin, 107, 120, 130, 143, 165, 171, 173, 202. - Rose, wild, 2. - Rusty grackle, 126. - - - S - Sabba Day Falls, 143, 273-284. - Saco River, 43, 232. - St. John’s-wort, 11, 47. - Sandpiper, solitary, 98, 105, 115, 116; - spotted, 98. - Sandwich, 23, 43. - Shrew, 141. - Six Mile Pond, 198, 290. - Skunk, 35, 133, 199. - Skunk cabbage, 3. - Snowberry, 40. - Snow-bunting, 234, 241, 265. - Solomon’s seal, 88. - Sparrow, chipping, 124; - field, 11, 124; - song, 99, 104, 124, 125; - tree, 131, 173, 202, 244; - vesper, 124, 125; - white-crowned, 164; - white-throated, 25, 68, 80, 124, 125, 164, 173. - Sphagnum, 22, 92, 153, 259, 282. - Spider, 181. - Spiræa, 12, 274. - Spiranthes, 47. - Spruce, 26, 50, 89, 149, 154, 204, 234, 236, 244, 252, 261, 274. - Squam Lake, 23. - Squirrel, flying, 33; - gray, 33, 132, 140, 188, 208, 209; - red, 34, 53, 102, 208, 238, 245, 251, 252, 255; - striped, 6, 33, 34, 145, 172, 251. - Sumac, 47, 134, 153. - Swallow, bank, 123; - barn, 104, 123; - eaves, 123; - martin, 123; - white-breasted, 124. - Sweet fern, 179. - Sweet pea, 185, 203. - Swift, 107. - Swift River, 43, 142, 154, 230, 233, 235, 244, 255, 280, 285, 288, - 289. - Swift River Intervale, 44, 45, 58, 67, 71, 141. - - - T - Tadpole, 12, 22, 32, 36, 41. - Tamworth, 44, 219. - Tanager, 38, 130. - Tern, black, 36, 129; - Wilson’s, 129. - Thistle, 47. - Thrush, hermit, 1, 11, 23, 28, 80, 97, 116, 165; - Swainson’s, 24, 80, 99, 119; - veery, 1, 2, 3, 11, 98, 107. - Toad, 15, 63. - Tree-frog, 7, 119. - Trout, 18, 40, 203, 215, 276. - Turtle, 13, 41. - - - U - University Hall, 157. - - - V - Veratrum, 3. - Vervain, 47. - Viburnum, hobble-bush, 44, 49, 134, 191, 259, 274. - Violet, 192. - Vireo, red-eyed, 1, 14, 23, 63, 104, 112, 119, 130, 143; - Philadelphia, 39; - solitary, 23, 120, 130, 165. - - - W - West Ossipee, 170. - Warbler, black and white creeping, 120; - Blackburnian, 120; - blackpoll, 26; - black-throated blue, 23, 120; - black-throated green, 120; - Canadian fly-catching, 120; - chestnut-sided, 99, 112, 120; - magnolia, 25, 120; - Maryland yellow-throat, 1, 99, 101, 102, 107, 143; - myrtle, 120, 165; - oven-bird, 14, 23; - parula, 7; - redstart, 112, 120; - Wilson’s blackcap, 106, 107, 113, 120. - Whippoorwill, 1, 28, 37, 98, 130, 132. - White Pond, 224. - Whitton Pond, 211, 215, 217. - Wild cherry, 44, 93, 259. - Willow, 192. - Winnepesaukee Lake, 23, 89. - Winter wren, 2, 122. - Witch-hazel, 203. - Woodbine, 134. - Woodchuck, 33, 172. - Woodpecker, downy, 280, 282; - flicker, 101, 104, 106, 110, 116, 120, 130, 143; - pileated, 218; - sapsucking, 14, 38, 116, 130, 139; - three-toed, 155, 247. - - - Y - Yarrow, 12, 181. - Yellow-bellied flycatcher, 112. - Yew, 60, 280. - - - _The Riverside Press_ - CAMBRIDGE . 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} -dl.catalog dt { margin-top:1em; } -.author { text-align:right; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em; display:block; } - -dl.biblio dt { margin-top:.6em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:justify; clear:both; } -dl.biblio dt div { display:block; float:left; margin-left:-6em; width:6em; clear:both; } -dl.biblio dt.center { margin-left:0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0; } -dl.biblio dd { margin-top:.3em; margin-left:3em; text-align:justify; font-size:90%; } -p.biblio { margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; } -.clear { clear:both; } -p.book { margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; } -p.review { margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; font-size:80%; } -p.pcap { margin-left:0em; text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin-top:0; font-size:90%; } -p.pcapc { margin-left:4.7em; text-indent:0em; text-align:justify; } -span.inside { font-size:80%; font-weight:bold; display:block; - float:left; margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em; - margin-right:1em; max-width:8em; } -span.attr { font-size:80%; font-family:sans-serif; } -span.pn { display:inline-block; width:4.7em; text-align:left; margin-left:0; text-indent:0; } -</style> -</head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of At the North of Bearcamp Water, by Frank Bolles</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: At the North of Bearcamp Water</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0;'>Chronicles of a Stroller in New England from July to December</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Frank Bolles</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 11, 2021 [eBook #66269]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Steve Mattern, Stephen Hutcheson, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER ***</div> -<div id="cover" class="img"> -<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="At the North of Bearcamp Water" width="631" height="1000" /> -</div> -<div class="img" id="fig1"> -<img src="images/p001_frontis.jpg" alt="" width="707" height="1000" /> -<p class="pcap">MOUNT CHOCORUA IN WINTER</p> -</div> -<div class="box"> -<p class="center"><i class="b">Visitor’s Edition</i></p> -<h1>AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER</h1> -<p class="center">Chronicles of a Stroller -<br />in New England -<br />from July to December</p> -<p class="tbcenter"><span class="smaller">BY</span> -<br />FRANK BOLLES</p> -<p class="center"><i class="small">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</i></p> -<div class="img"> -<img src="images/p002_title.jpg" id="ncfig1" alt="Riverside Press" width="224" height="300" /> -</div> -<p class="center"><span class="smaller">BOSTON AND NEW YORK</span> -<br /><span class="small">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY -<br /><i class="b">The Riverside Press</i> Cambridge</span></p> -</div> -<p class="center smallest">COPYRIGHT, 1893, BY FRANK BOLLES -<br />COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY -<br />ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_i">i</div> -<h2 id="toc" class="center">CONTENTS.</h2> -<dl class="toc"> -<dt class="small"><span class="smallest">PAGE</span></dt> -<dt><a href="#c1"><span class="sc">A Thunderstorm in the Forest</span></a> 1</dt> -<dt><a href="#c2"><span class="sc">The Heart of the Mountain</span></a> 10</dt> -<dt><a href="#c3"><span class="sc">A Lonely Lake</span></a> 27</dt> -<dt><a href="#c4"><span class="sc">Following a Lost Trail</span></a> 43</dt> -<dt><a href="#c5"><span class="sc">A Night Alone on Chocorua</span></a> 62</dt> -<dt><a href="#c6"><span class="sc">Bringing Home the Bear</span></a> 82</dt> -<dt><a href="#c7"><span class="sc">The Dead Tree’s Day</span></a> 96</dt> -<dt><a href="#c8"><span class="sc">Migration</span></a> 118</dt> -<dt><a href="#c9"><span class="sc">Trapping Gnomes</span></a> 132</dt> -<dt><a href="#c10"><span class="sc">Old Shag</span></a> 146</dt> -<dt><a href="#c11"><span class="sc">My Heart’s in the Highlands</span></a> 157</dt> -<dt><a href="#c12"><span class="sc">The Vintage of the Leaves</span></a> 168</dt> -<dt><a href="#c13"><span class="sc">Chocorua in November</span></a> 194</dt> -<dt><a href="#c14"><span class="sc">Among the Wind-Swept Lakes</span></a> 211</dt> -<dt><a href="#c15"><span class="sc">’Lection Day, ’92</span></a> 219</dt> -<dt><a href="#c16"><span class="sc">A Wintry Wilderness</span></a> 230</dt> -<dt><a href="#c17"><span class="sc">Climbing Bear Mountain in the Snow</span></a> 243</dt> -<dt><a href="#c18"><span class="sc">In the Paugus Woods</span></a> 252</dt> -<dt><a href="#c19"><span class="sc">At the Foot of Passaconaway</span></a> 264</dt> -<dt><a href="#c20"><span class="sc">Christmas at Sabba Day Falls</span></a> 273</dt> -<dt><a href="#c21"><span class="sc">Down the Torrent’s Pathway</span></a> 285</dt> -<dt><a href="#c22"><span class="sc">Index</span></a> 295</dt> -</dl> -<div class="pb" id="Page_ii">ii</div> -<h2><span class="small"><i>Invitation</i></span></h2> -<div class="verse"> -<p class="t0">To drink the wine of mountain air</p> -<p class="t0">Beside the Bearcamp Water.</p> -<p class="lr"><span class="sc">Whittier</span>, <i>Among the Hills</i>.</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_iii">iii</div> -<h2><span class="small">ILLUSTRATIONS.</span></h2> -<dl class="toc"> -<dt><a href="#fig1"><span class="sc">Mount Chocorua in Winter</span></a> <i>Frontispiece</i></dt> -<dt><a href="#fig2"><span class="sc">Water-Lilies in Chocorua Lake</span></a> 16</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig3"><span class="sc">Chocorua from Heron Pond</span></a> 28</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig4"><span class="sc">Canoe Birches of the Bearcamp Valley</span></a> 40</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig5"><span class="sc">The Peak of Chocorua from the Hammond Trail</span></a> 64</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig6">“<span class="sc">The Cow</span>”</a> 68</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig7"><span class="sc">The Peak from the Southeast</span></a> 72</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig8"><span class="sc">The Peak from the North</span></a> 76</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig9"><span class="sc">View from “the Cow,” showing Moat Mountain and Mount Pequawket Beyond</span></a> 80</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig10"><span class="sc">The Dead Tree</span></a> 98</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig11"><span class="sc">Mount Chocorua and Chocorua Lake in Summer</span></a> 118</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig12"><span class="sc">Two Kinds of Gnomes—Hesperomys and Zapus</span></a> 138</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig13"><span class="sc">Paugus from Wonalancet Road</span></a> 146</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig14"><span class="sc">Chocorua seen from the Side of Paugus</span></a> 150</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig15"><span class="sc">Whiteface and Passaconaway from Paugus</span></a> 154</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig16"><span class="sc">Crowlands, formerly the Old Doe Farm</span></a> 158</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig17"><span class="sc">Twilight on the Lake</span></a> 174</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig18"><span class="sc">Chocorua and Dr. Chadwick’s Pines</span></a> 184</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig19"><span class="sc">The Peak of Chocorua from Bald Mountain</span></a> 206</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig20"><span class="sc">Mount Chocorua from Whitton Pond</span></a> 216</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig21">“<span class="sc">Moat, like a breaking wave</span>”</a> 232</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig22"><span class="sc">Mount Chocorua and the Lake in Winter</span></a> 250</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig23"><span class="sc">Frost-covered Spruce near the Summit of Passaconaway</span></a> 262</dt> -<dt><a href="#fig24"><span class="sc">Moat Mountain and the Swift River</span></a> 290</dt> -</dl> -<div class="pb" id="Page_1">1</div> -<h1 title="">AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER.</h1> -<h2 id="c1"><span class="small">A THUNDERSTORM IN THE FOREST.</span></h2> -<p>During nearly the whole of the forenoon of -July 3, 1892, a soft rain had been falling. It -had begun in the night to the discomfiture of -the whippoorwills, but not to the extinguishment -of their voices. It continued until nearly -noon, when the wind shifted from east to west, -patches of blue sky appeared, and ever and -anon gleams of sunlight fell upon the distant -forest across the lake, or slid slowly over the -tree-tops on the side of Chocorua. Bird voices -grew stronger with the promise of fair weather. -Hermit thrushes, veeries, red-eyed vireos, and -Maryland yellow-throats sang four invitations -from as many points of the compass, and I said -Yes to the veeries and sought the swamp. A -New Hampshire swamp is full of attractions at -all seasons. In winter the great northern hares -make innumerable paths across its soft snow, -<span class="pb" id="Page_2">2</span> -and tempt the gunner into the chilly gloom in -search of a shot at their phantom forms. In -spring a host of migrating warblers makes -merry in its tree-tops, and the song of the winter -wren is sent from heaven to give joy to its -shadows. Summer brings to it many a shy -orchid blooming among the ferns, and the fisherman -finds the trout in its brook’s placid pools -long after they have ceased to bite well in the -upper reaches of the stream. There are no -venomous serpents hanging from its moss-grown -trees, no tigers concealed in its brakes, and no -ague lingering in its stagnant pools. It is a -safe swamp and kind, yet none the less a swamp.</p> -<p>When I reached its borders, after crossing -the meadow, I found wild roses in bloom. It -was of these, doubtless, that the veery was singing -so bewitchingly. Certainly nothing less -fair could have prompted such magic music. -Moreover, the veery’s nest, framed in nodding -osmundas, is near these beautiful blossoms, -with many a pool and thicket between it and -hard ground. Passing into the darkness of the -swamp, I glanced back at the sky. The north -and west were filled with black clouds which -were stirred by passionate winds in their midst. -A low growl of thunder came through the heavy -air. I felt as though forbidden to enter the -mysteries of the swamp, as though warned that -<span class="pb" id="Page_3">3</span> -danger lay within those aisles of twilight. The -veery ceased its song. No bird voice broke the -stillness of the gloom, and a hush of expectation -held every leaf motionless. The branches closed -behind me and I stole on between lofty trees -with mossy trunks, over fallen logs, and through -the dripping jungle of ferns. Upland woods -are cleaner, stronger, more symmetrical than -swamp growth, but they have not the effect of -tropical luxuriance which the swamp forest possesses. -The mosses, lichens, ferns of many -species, climbing vines, and such large-leaved -plants as the veratrum and skunk cabbage, give -to the moist land an air of wealth of leaf-growth -which is distinctive.</p> -<p>Two species of orchid were conspicuous, rising -just above the ferns. They were the purple-fringed, -just coming into bloom, and the -white, which was abundant. Splashing back -and forth through the shallow pools, gathering -the spikes of the white orchis, I did not at first -notice a distant sound which grew in volume -until its sullen vibration could not be ignored. -The tree-tops above me gave a sudden, vicious -swish. Crows to the westward were cawing -wildly. The roar of the storm became unmistakable; -the swamp grew darker; a few big -drops of rain fell, and then, as though a train -were plunging down noisy rails upon the forest, -<span class="pb" id="Page_4">4</span> -the rain and wind leaped upon the trees, filling -the air with deafening sounds, and twisting the -branches until it seemed as though the whole -structure of the woods was about to collapse in -one vast ruin. Then through the tormented -tree-tops the floods fell. They were white like -snow, and seemed to be a fallen part of a white -sky which showed now and then as the forest -swayed back and forth in the wind’s arms. -Wet as the swamp had been before, its colors -became more vivid under this deluge. Every -leaf grew greener, and each lichen gave out new -tints as it drank in rain. The trunks of the -trees assumed more distinctive shades; that of -the ash became brown, of the yellow birch -almost like saffron, and of the canoe birch glistening -white. The rain pelting into my eyes -bade me look less at the sky and more at the -beauties at my feet. Beauties there surely were -at my feet, both of color and form. There were -no flowers, but the leaves were enough to satisfy -both eye and mind,—large leaves and small, -coarse and delicate, strong and feeble, stiff and -drooping. Some were long and slender, others -deeply cleft, some round, or smoothly oval, -others shaped like arrow-heads. Some received -the rain submissively and bowed more and more -before it, others responded buoyantly as each -drop struck them and was tossed off. In some -<span class="pb" id="Page_5">5</span> -the up-and-down motion communicated by the -falling drop was by the formation of the leaf-stalk -transformed at once into an odd vibration -from side to side, which was like an indignant -shaking of the head.</p> -<p>Looking at the marvelous variety in the outlines -of these gleaming leaves, I suddenly found -my memory tugging me back to the schoolroom -where I was first taught botany. I recalled one -melancholy morning when my teacher, who -knew neither the derivation of botanical terms -nor the true beauties of botanical science, ordered -me to commit to memory the list of adjectives -applied to the various shapes of leaves. -The dose prejudiced me against botany for full -ten years of my life, yet here in this glistening -carpet of the swamp I saw “lanceolate,” “auriculate,” -“cordate,” “pinnate,” written, not in -letters of gold, but in something equally impressive -to the memory, and much more easy for a -dull teacher to obtain.</p> -<p>When one is in the deep woods and a flash of -lightning comes, the eye seems to see a narrow -horizontal belt of light play swiftly across the -foliage immediately in the line of vision. If I -looked at the ground I caught it there; if my -eyes were fixed on the low branches at a distance, -the flash was there. Each flash was -promptly followed by the glorious mountain -<span class="pb" id="Page_6">6</span> -thunder which is so much more impressive than -that in level regions. At first heaven was rent -by the sound; then mountain after mountain -seemed to fall in noisy ruin, the great ledges -tumbling in upon each other with deafening -shocks; then the sound rolled away through the -sky, striking here and there upon some cloudy -promontory and giving out a softened boom or -waning rumble.</p> -<p>For full twenty minutes the trees writhed in -the wind, the rain fell, the leaves nodded and -shivered under the drops, and the rhythmic roar -of the rain was broken irregularly by the thunder. -As time passed, the shower slackened, the -thunder followed the lightning at longer and -longer intervals, the wind seemed to take deeper -and less nervous breaths, and I listened to discover -what creature of the swamp would first -raise its voice above the subsiding storm. A -mosquito hovered before me, dodging the drops -in its vibratory flight. If it was buzzing I -could not hear it. Suddenly a single call from -a blue jay came, in a lull of the wind, from a -thicket of spruces. “Yoly-’oly,” it said, and -was silent again. I took a few steps forward, -and the shrill alarm-note of a chipmunk sounded -through the gloom. I strolled slowly through -the drenched and dripping woods fragrant with -the perfume of moss and mould. It was more -<span class="pb" id="Page_7">7</span> -like wading than walking, for every leaf had -a drop of cold water ready to give away to -whatever first touched it. A ray of sunlight -dodged through the lifting clouds and fell into -the swamp. The song of a parula warbler, -distilled by it, floated back skyward. As the -west grew golden and blue, bird-songs sounded -from every quarter. The merry chickadees, -conversational vireos, and querulous wood pewees -vied with each other and the tree-toads in -replacing the orchestral passion of the storm by -the simple music of their solos.</p> -<p>Leaving the swamp, I climbed the terrace -marking the ancient border of the lake, which -once included the swamp in its area, and passed -through a grove of slender birches and poplars. -Their stems, streaming with rain, were as -bright as polished marble, and their foliage, -illuminated by the clear sunlight, was marvelously -green against the deep blue of the sky. -Presently a vista opened northward, and at its -end rose the dark peak of Chocorua. After a -rain this towering rock presents a noticeably -different appearance from its normal coloring. -Most of its surface is covered by lichens, one -species of which, when dry, resembles burnt -paper. When rain falls upon these lichens they -alter their tints, and the burnt paper species in -particular becomes so green that a wonderful -<span class="pb" id="Page_8">8</span> -change takes place in the whole coloring of the -mountain. Looked upon through the birch -vista, the air being clear and clean, and the -colors of the mountain uncommonly bright, the -peak seemed near at hand, and even grander -than usual. There are few things in New England -as truly picturesque as this horn of Chocorua. -Three thousand feet above its lake and -the level of the Saco, the great rock lifts itself -with bold and naked outline into the midst of -the sky. No foot seems able to creep up its -precipitous slopes to its dizzy tip, and even the -sturdy spruce can cling only to the deep clefts -in its storm-swept ledges. There was a time -when the forest reached to its crest, and when -the cold rocks, now naked, were covered deep -in soil and mosses. Passaconaway, close by, -shows how this could have been, and how Chocorua -must have looked draped in evergreens. -Fire and hurricane destroyed the trees; the -parched soil was washed away from the rocks; -and now the only trace of the old forest growth -is an occasional bleached stump or log hidden -in a cleft in the ledges.</p> -<p>As I strolled homewards I passed a spot -where the linnæa has covered several square -yards of ground in a birch wood. The tiny -bells had rung out their elfin music for the year. -By dint of laborious search on hands and knees -<span class="pb" id="Page_9">9</span> -I found eight of the flowers, still wonderfully -fragrant though somewhat faded. All the rest -of the chime had fallen. Not far away a growth -of dogbane fringed the path. I picked some of -its blossoms and held the two sets of bells side -by side in my hand. The comparison made -me feel sorry for the dogbane.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_10">10</div> -<h2 id="c2"><span class="small">THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAIN</span></h2> -<p>Floating upon the clear waters of Chocorua -Lake in the latter part of a warm July afternoon, -and looking northward, I see the coolness of -night beginning to grow in the heart of the -mountain. At first there is but a slender dark -line marking a deep ravine, through which a -brook flows; then the shadow widens until a -great hollow in the mountain’s side is filled with -shade. As the sun sinks the shadow reaches -higher and higher upon the wooded flanks of -the two spurs which hold the hollow between -them, until at last only the vast rock of the -peak, resting upon its forest-clad shoulders, is -left warm in the sun’s rays. The point where -the shadow begins to form is more than a thousand -feet above the level of the lake. From it, -reaching upwards, two folds in the forest drapery -extend towards the foot of the peak. One -marks a brook coming from the upper part of -the right-hand ridge, the other a brook which -rises at the very head of the left-hand, or west -ridge. The heart of the mountain is the wild -ravine where these two streams mingle in perpetual -<span class="pb" id="Page_11">11</span> -coolness and shadow. No path leads to -it and few are the feet which have found a way -to its beauties. There is a peculiar charm in a -spot unknown to the many. Its loneliness endears -it to the mind, and gives its associations -a rarer flavor. If besides being unfrequented -it is singularly beautiful in itself, it becomes a -shrine, a place sacred to one’s best thoughts. -To me the heart of Chocorua is a shrine, all -the more valued because of the weariness of -flesh required to attain to it.</p> -<p>Early on the morning of July 10, I set out -across the pastures for the foot of the mountain. -The sun was hot, the air hazy, and not a breath -of a breeze made the aspens quiver. In the -shaded hollows something of the night’s chill -still lingered, and from them floated the psalm -of the hermit and the gypsy music of the veery. -Now and then the clear, cool phœbe-note of the -chickadee reached the ear, in contrast to the -trill of the field sparrows which came from the -warmest parts of the grass-land. On the hill -to the westward young crows with high-pitched -voices clamored for food, and quarreled with -each other on their shady perch in the beeches.</p> -<p>The flowers which bloomed by the path were -children of heat, types of midsummer. Buds -were large on the goldenrod, the St. John’s-wort -was in full bloom, and so, too, were the diurnal -<span class="pb" id="Page_12">12</span> -evening-primrose, the fleabane and dogbane, -both worthy of sweeter names; the yarrow, as -disagreeable among flowers as a cynic is among -men; the tall potentilla, yellow clover, and, representing -the purple flowers, the brunella. In -many places thick beds of checkerberry, decked -with brilliant berries, were made gayer by many -heads of the brunella growing through them. -The brunella is shaped somewhat like the conventional -chess castle, but the castle is never -quite complete while blossoming, owing to the -lack of harmony among the many little flowers -which unite to form its head. Low, running -blackberry dotted the banks with uninteresting -white blossoms, and the stiff spikes of the spiræa -were abundant. The daisy, stigmatized as whiteweed -by the indignant farmers, still displayed -a few battered blossoms, which kept company -with heads of red and of white clover. After -passing these flowers of summer, it seemed -strange, on descending into a deep cup-shaped -basin where a small pond fed by springs is -shaded by lofty oaks and birches, to find the -houstonia still in full glory, and the dwarf cornel -blooming in dark and mossy nooks. Animate -nature takes solid comfort in a hot day. -As I stole softly downward to the shore of the -little pond, scores of tadpoles shot away from -the edge of the water into its green depths. -<span class="pb" id="Page_13">13</span> -Painted tortoises, which had been baking on -logs and stones in the full glare of the sun, -dropped off unwillingly into the water. Countless -dragonflies skimmed the surface of the -pond, devouring smaller insects, and from a -dead limb overlooking the shore, a crow, whose -plumage gleamed with iridescent lights, flapped -sluggishly out of sight among the trees. Snakes -love to lie coiled in the hottest sunlight; squirrels -stretch themselves contentedly on horizontal -limbs and bask by the hour; the fox, woodchuck, -and weasel, and even toads and newts, -and those so-called birds of darkness the barred -owls, seek the broadest glare of the midsummer -sun and absorb comfort from its scorching rays.</p> -<p>Taking tribute from the pond-basin by a deep -drink of ice-cold water at a spring in its bank, -I crossed another strip of open pasture—where -the tinkle-tankle of the cow-bells sounded with -each bite the cows took of the grass—and -gained the edge of the forest and the foot of the -mountain. There was something akin to coolness -in the shade of the birches, poplars, and -beeches. New flowers bloomed here and new -birds called. The dependent bells of the white -pyrola, of the small green pyrola, and of the -quaint pipsissewa were found beneath the brakes. -Here, too, was the Indian pipe, looking as -though formed from sheets of colorless wax, -<span class="pb" id="Page_14">14</span> -and its tawny sister the pine sap (<i>Monotropa -hypopitys</i>). The wintergreens are strong, positive -herbs with rich pungent flavor, but the pale -parasitic plants are mere negations. They are -the “poor relations” among flowers, content to -draw their sustenance from others, while showing -no color, giving out no perfume, attracting -no butterflies, and not even daring to face the -blue sky until they are dead.</p> -<p>The oven-bird stepped primly about upon her -neat carpet of dry leaves, the red-eyed vireo -preached his perpetual homily from the treetops, -a young Cooper’s hawk screamed shrilly -in the distance, and two inquisitive red-capped -sapsuckers hitched up and down tree-trunks near -me, while I hooted at them after the manner -of my barred owls. A grouse had been wallowing -among the leaves, and had left a round hollow -in the dust with five discarded feathers and -the prints of her feet to show that she had been -there. <i>Rana sylvatica</i>, the wood-frog, betrayed -himself by leaping over the dry beech leaves. I -followed him quickly as he sought to elude me. -Not only were his leaps long, but his skill in -doubling was something marvelous. His second -jump was generally at right angles with the -first, and thrice he no sooner struck the ground -than he turned and rebounded upon his tracks, -so that he passed over or between my feet. -<span class="pb" id="Page_15">15</span> -When he was weary I caught him and, laying -him on my knee, stroked the nape of his neck, -his back and sides. He soon ceased to struggle -and sat motionless. I laid him gently on his -back and stroked him beneath. His throat -throbbed and his eyes blinked, but he made no -effort to escape. Then I restored him to his -proper position, and extended one leg after another. -He was as pliable and nerveless as a -rubber frog. Finally I let him alone, wondering -how soon he would hop away; but he showed -a willingness to spend the day on my knee, and -not until I placed him on the leaves did he seem -to awaken to life and the advantages of freedom.</p> -<p>A few rods beyond, a toad hopped from me -and I followed him to see what method of escape -he would adopt. As soon as he saw that he was -pursued he increased his speed and by a series -of rapid hops reached a cavern under the arched -root of a stump and plunged out of sight in its -depths. Our toads, although of but a single -species, vary in color from black to the paleness -of a dry beech leaf. This one, living in the -midst of pale browns and yellows, was nearly -as light in tone as the light-footed <i>Rana sylvatica</i>.</p> -<p>The color of the dry beech leaves as they lie -upon the ground is sometimes curiously bewitched -<span class="pb" id="Page_16">16</span> -by the spots of sunlight which dapple -the woodland carpet. Walking with the sun -behind me, the sunlight, especially where it fell -in small round spots on the beech leaves before -me, was of an unmistakably amethystine hue. -Several years ago when I first noticed this, I -supposed it to be due to temporary causes, but -I am now convinced that the color will always -be distinguishable when the conditions named -are favorable.</p> -<p>The loveliest July flower in the woods fringing -Chocorua is the mitchella, named by Linnæus -for Dr. John Mitchell of Virginia. In -their small round leaves of dark glossy green, -their creeping stems, their modest, delicate-tinted -and highly-perfumed blossoms, the flower -of Linnæus and the flower of Mitchell are much -alike. The partridge-berry, as the mitchella -is commonly called, begins to bloom just as the -linnæa bells cease to swing. It is an evergreen, -and all through the winter its bright -green leaves and red berries are one of the -pledges of returning life after snow and ice have -vanished. The flower is small and faces the -sky. It is white with a delicate rosy blush -tinging its corolla, chiefly on its outer side. -The four pointed petals open wide and curve -back, exposing the whole interior of the flower -to view. Each petal is covered on its inner -surface with a thick velvety nap which is the -distinguishing characteristic of the blossom. -The perfume of this flower is both powerful and -pleasant. When freshly picked it suggests the -scent of the water-lily, coupled with something -as spicy and enduring as the heavier perfume of -heliotrope.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig2"> -<img src="images/p016.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="602" /> -<p class="pcap">WATER-LILIES IN CHOCORUA LAKE</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div> -<p>Fifteen or twenty minutes’ walking over the -beech leaves brought me within hearing of the -torrent which flows from the heart of the mountain. -Presently I came to the edge of its cutting -and saw far below me, through the trees -which filled the gorge, the flash of its waters -and the vivid green of mosses. Walking upstream -along the face of the bank, yet neither -climbing nor descending, I struck the level of -the water at a point not many rods distant. I -had not gone down to the brook; it had come -up to me. The whole ravine was filled with its -music, and following down with its eager flow -was a current of cold air. Above, in the woods, -quiet and heat had prevailed. Here noise and -coolness ruled with absolute sway. The sound -came in waves as did the water and the breeze, -but no human senses could measure the intervals -between the beats. The sound seemed -threefold,—a splash, a murmur, and a deeper -roar. The roar reached me even if I pressed -my hands tightly over my ears; while, if I made -<span class="pb" id="Page_18">18</span> -ear-trumpets of my hands, the splashing thus -intensified drowned the heavier sounds. The -rhythm of the water was most prettily shown -on a boulder faced with thick moss. When -the high water came it poured over the top of -the rock, and the moss was filled with white -shining drops coursing downward through it; -but, on the reaction, it instantly became vivid -green. The same pulsation showed in each -cascade, which was greater then less, greater -then less, in each second of time. As I bent -over a pool, taking now and then a sip of the -icy water, a small trout suddenly jumped near -the foot of the fall below. He was intensely -busy working about in the edge of the falling -water, where rising bubbles and whirling foam -half concealed him. In color he looked not unlike -a beech leaf, and he moved so constantly -that only an attentive eye could distinguish him -from the waste of the stream whirled about in -the eddies. I cast him some moss and mould, -and he darted hither and thither in the water -clouded by it, snapping up bits of food or specks -which he mistook for food. His eagerness and -restlessness seemed born of the restlessness of -the stream and the keen temperature of the water -in which he lived.</p> -<p>There was something of the impressiveness of -the sea in this mountain brook. The sea rolls -<span class="pb" id="Page_19">19</span> -its waves upon the shore by night and by day -all through the endless years, and this brook -rolls down its tons upon tons of water by night -and by day forever. It seems impossible that -this and all the other streams which flow down -rocky mountain-sides can be nourished simply -by the softly falling rain and snow.</p> -<p>Much of the fascination of the sea is in its -voice, so seldom hushed, so often roused to anger. -The torrent by which I stood had something -of the same weird power. For the moment, -all outside those narrow wooded steeps, -between which the splash, murmur, and roar of -the stream pervaded everything and overwhelmed -everything, all beyond that controlling sound -was forgotten, barred out, lost. All within the -power of the stream was under a spell, cooling, -soothing, comforting.</p> -<p>To reach the heart of the mountain nearly a -mile of brook bed had to be traveled, so I -climbed upward rock by rock, past falls and -pools, clusters of nodding ferns, bridges of ancient -trees now hung with mosses, and sloping -ledges faced with moss, down which the water -rolled in glistening sheets. At one point the -brook, years ago, had cut through a ledge which -crossed its path diagonally. One great shoulder -of rock remained, protruding from the western -bank and hanging over the water, which poured -<span class="pb" id="Page_20">20</span> -into a black cavern beneath, making a whirlpool -in the darkness. The temperature under this -ledge was nearly forty degrees lower than on -the top of the bank a few yards above. Standing -by the ledge, I counted nine distinct cascades -varying from three to six feet in height. One -of them was an ideally symmetrical fall, for the -whole body of water, gathered between two -rocky faces, fell into a deep round pool just at -its centre. Another fall showed clearly why the -water under a cascade looks white. The water -poured into a very broad, deep basin at its upper -corner, leaving most of the surface undisturbed; -and between the limpid falling water and the -flat face of rock behind it air was caught and -sucked downward by the flow. It was carried -to the very bottom of the pool, where, breaking -into small round bubbles, it struggled to the surface. -Strings and masses of snow-white bubbles -filled the area in front and at each side of -the fall, while some were drawn some distance -down-stream by the escaping water. These -bubbles, when under water, produced the whiteness -of the pool, and, on reaching the surface, -burst and made a large part of its foam and -spray. In this pool, as in many others, small -trout hovered about the edge of the rising bubbles, -seizing upon everything which looked like -food. They rose with charming promptness to -<span class="pb" id="Page_21">21</span> -anything resembling a fly which I tossed upon -the surface of the foam.</p> -<p>As I neared the heart of the mountain I saw, -towering above twin cascades which fell into a -single pool at its feet, the rough likeness of a -sphinx. It was a huge boulder, dividing the -torrent by its lichen-covered mass, and lifting -its frost-hewn face towards the narrow strip of -sky left between the trees overarching the ravine.</p> -<p>Close above the sphinx a spring in the eastern -bank filled a hollow in the hill with cold, fern-decked -mud. A flower I never should have -sought in this lofty nook had taken possession -of the spot and raised hundreds of its white -spikes towards the sky. It was a white orchis, -<i>Habenaria dilatata</i>. In a space six feet by -ten, I counted seventy-five of its plants, each in -full bloom. On the edges of this miniature -swamp the leaves of the mayflower mingled with -those of the linnæa. The blossoms of the mayflowers -were dry and brown; those of the linnæa, -with one fragrant exception, had fallen. -Close by, the open-eyed flowers of the oxalis -smiled from their beds of clover-shaped leaves.</p> -<p>A few rods farther up the stream, the land -grew steeper and the walls of the ravine drew -more closely together. Taller trees presided -over the torrent, and the water struggled downward -between larger boulders. A stream, tumbling -<span class="pb" id="Page_22">22</span> -down its narrow bed, came from the high -eastern ledges and met that which poured from -the heights on the west. Here, in the perpetual -music of falling drops, where one or another of -the great walls of the gorge always casts a deep -shadow upon the ferns, is the heart of the mountain, -the birthplace of the twilight.</p> -<p>Early in the afternoon I followed the western -stream to its source, where, in a dark hollow at -the head of the west ridge, hidden wholly from -view by the forest, lies a small mountain lake. -Perhaps it would be more truthful to call it a -large pool, fed as it is mainly by melting snow -or the streams of rain-water poured into it from -the crags of Chocorua. Beneath its shallow -water the maroon and dark green sphagnum -formed a submerged carpet of intense colors. -The growing tops of the moss, star-shaped and -erect, glowed with the tint of life. The borders -of the pool were fringed with dense growths -of yellow-green <i>Osmunda regalis</i> which were -swayed by a sweet wind. Through the soft foliage -of the deciduous trees surrounding the pool, -lance-shaped spruces and balsams pierced a way -for themselves towards the sky. No fish were -visible in the pool, and its only living tenants -seemed to be some tadpoles about the size of -squash-seeds. Now that the noises of the brook -no longer overwhelmed every other sound, the -<span class="pb" id="Page_23">23</span> -songs of birds could be heard. Red-eyed and -solitary vireos, oven-birds, a black-throated -blue warbler, a hermit thrush, and another -thrush which was neither hermit nor veery, -were singing either in the woods close by or -among the small spruces which crowned the -adjoining ledges. I climbed to the top of the -nearest ledge in search of the thrush, and -gained not only the full benefit of his song, but -a view of many a mile of the fair lake country, -the Bearcamp valley, and the rugged peaks of -the Sandwich range. The air was full of quivering -heat and hazy midsummer softness. Over -the shoulder of the Ossipees, south of Bearcamp -Water, sparkled Squam Lake and Winnepesaukee. -The hayfields of Sandwich were baking -under the sun’s fierce heat. North of them -began the mountains,—Black Mountain in the -edge of Campton, Whiteface, Passaconaway, -and, nearer at hand, Paugus, towards which all -the western ridges of Chocorua were tending. -The sun being over and beyond these wooded -mountains, they were very dark, lacking in detail, -but clearly outlined against one another. -Northward and just above me the cliffs of the -Chocorua horn hung in the sky. The lichens -on the crag were dry and very black. Towering -into the air, ledge upon ledge, and cliff over -cliff, the peak was like a huge citadel defying -<span class="pb" id="Page_24">24</span> -attack. I had climbed upon the shoulders of -the mountain, but its proud head, held high, -was still out of reach.</p> -<p>The thrush was one which is common upon -the upper slopes of the mountains, wholly replacing -the veery there and probably outnumbering -the hermit. Its song, while pleasing, is -not as musically beautiful as that of the hermit, -nor yet as unique as the veery’s. The hermit -has three distinct phrases, the veery one, and -Swainson’s several which are not distinct, but -rather jumbling reproductions of the same notes. -If this bird had learned his song for himself, I -should surmise that he had listened closely to a -veery and a thrasher, and then tried to model a -combination of their notes upon the lines of the -hermit’s exquisite song. Perhaps it was the -heat and the glare of light on the ledges, or -perhaps it was a certain dullness in the Swainson’s -song, at all events I wearied of it and -sought a higher ledge beyond the pool.</p> -<p>On this higher ledge, lambkill (<i>Kalmia angustifolia</i>) -was blooming in great abundance. -It is a handsome flower, and it goes a little way -to console us for not having mountain laurel. -Between two great patches of lambkill and -flowering diervilla was a level strip of gravel. -It bore printed on its face an interesting history. -Beginning near the edge of a thicket -<span class="pb" id="Page_25">25</span> -and extending to the edge of the cliff, where a -view of miles of surrounding country could be -obtained, was a line of sharp hoof-marks. A -deer had walked slowly to the verge of the -ledge, presumably to survey the landscape. -The track had been made since the rain of the -day before, and, for all that I could see, might -have been made within an hour. While studying -it I heard an unfamiliar bird-song reminding -me slightly of the Maryland yellow-throat’s. -The bird was in the thicket. I crept towards -him, but he retreated, singing at intervals. -After following for some time, I tried working -on his sympathies, and “squeaked” like a bird -in distress. Instantly a flash of vivid yellow -came through the trees and a magnificent male -magnolia or black and yellow warbler appeared -in search of the supposed sufferer. His mate -soon joined him, as did a junco and two white-throated -sparrows. The coloring of the magnolias -is certainly gay. It includes blue-gray -on the head, black on the back, canary-yellow -beneath and on the rump, with white and dark -bars, stripes, and spots enough on various parts -of his body to make him as variegated as a harlequin.</p> -<p>While the magnolia warblers are members of -the Canadian fauna, and seldom seen in the -breeding season south of the White Mountains, -<span class="pb" id="Page_26">26</span> -the bird which I next heard singing was even -more interesting. It was a male blackpoll -warbler, perched upon the highest plume of a -spruce and pouring out his unmusical <i>ze-ze-ze-ze-ze</i> -with all a lover’s earnestness. He clearly considered -two thousand feet rise on Chocorua -equivalent to several hundred miles’ flight -towards Labrador. In this the flowers sustained -him, for growing near by was the charming -<i>Arenaria grœnlandica</i>, with its cluster of -delicate white flowers springing from the sand, -and the <i>Potentilla tridentata</i> blooming freely. -Apparently dissenting from this boreal majority -was a bunch of goldenrod in full bloom. It -was a mountain species which comes into flower -a fortnight or more earlier than its lowland relatives.</p> -<p>My homeward path followed the crest of the -great eastern ridge of Chocorua as it descends -towards the basin of Chocorua ponds. The -ridge is narrow and mainly open, save for a few -stunted spruces. In every direction far-reaching -and beautiful views charmed me and -tempted me to linger. From the last of the -open ledges, the top of what is called Bald -Mountain, I saw the sun set just behind the -peak. Then with quickened pace I entered the -forest and ran through the gathering gloom -down the rough path to the pastures a mile below.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div> -<h2 id="c3"><span class="small">A LONELY LAKE.</span></h2> -<p>Six witheringly hot days had been followed -by one so cool and clear, so full of rushing -Arctic air, that all nature sparkled as on an -autumn morning. About sunset on the evening -of this cool day,—July 17,—the pale blue -sky in the north was suddenly barred by ascending -rays of quivering white light. Chocorua, -lying dark and still against the cold sky, seemed -to be the centre of the aurora. As it grew -dark I watched to see the heavens glow with the -electric flame, but hour after hour passed with -only an occasional gleam of light. Shortly before -sunrise, however, the promised illumination -came. I awoke to find my chamber as bright -as though day had come, for from the southeast -moonlight streamed across the floor, while from -the north the glow of the aurora flooded the -room. An immense arch of throbbing white -light crowned the northern sky, and within it a -smaller coronet rested above the inky blackness -of Chocorua. Between the two hung the Great -Dipper, and from one to the other occasional -pulsating rays passed. The eastern end of the -<span class="pb" id="Page_28">28</span> -upper and larger belt of light made a sharp -bend inward a few degrees above the horizon, -and to a less defined extent the smaller arch -was similarly shaped. The effect of this curve -at the base of the two bows was very remarkable, -for it destroyed the image of an arch and -created the impression that one was looking into -the inner curve of a ring which surrounded the -earth, just as the rings of Saturn encircle that -planet. Gradually the lower ring faded, the -upper one settled down closer and closer to -Chocorua; masses of electric energy seemed to -dart across the eastern sky, where Sirius and -the fair Pleiades gleamed, to the moon and -Mars sailing serenely on their westward way. -Behind Pequawket the lowest line of sky grew -white. The dawn was coming, and, as though -to avoid it, the hurrying beams and flashing -waves of aurora moved faster and faster until in -their dimness they could scarce be seen. Snowy -mists raised their phantom forms from the lake -and floated eastward to meet the sun. A whippoorwill -sang his last song to the night, and as -the glow of day grew more real a hermit thrush -told in its heartfelt music the joy of life at the -birth of a new period of labor.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig3"> -<img src="images/p028.jpg" alt="" width="666" height="1000" /> -<p class="pcap">CHOCORUA FROM HERON POND</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div> -<p>A scrap of mist which trailed over the forest -just at the foot of one of the ridges of Chocorua -was the spirit of a lonely lake rising to do homage -to the day-star. This lake is a rendezvous -for all that is wildest and freest in the animal -life of the region. It is sufficient unto itself, -and yields no tribute save to its lord the sun. -Around it, high glacial walls stand, crowned -with ancient oaks and graceful birches. No -stream flows from it, or into it, unless threads -of ice-cold water coming from springs in its -banks are called streams. Its waters are deep, -the fisherman, so they say, finding places in its -centre where long lines reach no bottom. Seen -from the peak of Chocorua, this lake, even in -November, is as green as an emerald, and when -one floats upon its surface and gazes far down -into its depths, rich green water-weeds are seen -stretching their tremulous fingers towards him, -and crowding each other for standing-room on -its muddy floor.</p> -<p>Many are the days I have spent at this lonely -lake learning the secrets of its tenants, and this -morning, soon after the auroral beauties had -faded from the sky, I came to it while the dew -sparkled on the ferns. Drifting with the wind -on the water, or stretched on the soft mosses -which flourish under the birches, I stayed by -the lake until evening. If an observer keeps -still, it matters little whether he sits hidden -under the spreading branches of a great oak on -the shore, or lies upon a raft anchored in the -<span class="pb" id="Page_30">30</span> -lake, he is sure to see something interesting in -either case. One morning, as I leaned against -the oak’s wide trunk, watching a bittern on the -opposite shore, I noticed that the bird showed -signs of uneasiness, paying more heed to the -bushes than to its fishing. Suddenly the cause -of its unrest became apparent. The bushes -just behind it were slowly poked apart and the -head of a fox appeared. With a guttural note -of alarm the bittern rose and flew across the -lake, above the trees on the opposite bank, and -out of sight. Reynard, graceful and alert, -stood upon the mossy shore for a moment, looking -after his lost opportunity; then turned -abruptly and vanished in the underbrush. Another -morning, while I was under the same -tree, a big blue heron came softly stepping -along the beach towards me. He was a comical -figure, with his attenuated legs, wasted to the -semblance of rushes; his extensible neck, expressive -of centuries of hungry reaching after the -partly attainable; and his long beak as cruel as -a pair of shears. His dull eyes told of terror -when he saw me. For a moment I felt their -worried glare, and then the quaint machinery -of the bird was put in motion and he flapped -off out of sight.</p> -<p>One still, cloudy afternoon in August, I lay -upon a raft of weather-beaten logs and mossy -<span class="pb" id="Page_31">31</span> -boards, watching the fitful sky and listening to -an occasional bird-note, when suddenly my eyes -were drawn to the north shore of the lake by -seeing a branch of green leaves swimming, apparently -unaided, along the surface of the -water. After progressing for forty or fifty feet -it disappeared under the ripples. A mystery, -truly. A few moments later a muskrat’s head -rose above the water, and the creature swam -back to the point from which the leaves had -started. Leaving the lake cautiously, the rat -crawled clumsily up the bank into the bushes. -After a minute or two it came waddling out -bearing a second branch of ash, and this, too, -floated along the placid surface of the lake until -abruptly drawn down into the rat’s burrow in -the submerged bank. Later in the afternoon I -noticed a V-shaped ripple plowing across the -lake from the southern shore. On it came, a -small, dark object being at its point, parting -the water steadily. As it drew near the raft I -saw that the dark spot was the head of another -muskrat, whose course was shaped straight for -the hole into which his mate had been carrying -ash branches. He passed quite close to me -without alarm, and a minute or two later the -ripple ceased as the rat sank below the water a -few yards from the mouth of the hole.</p> -<p>The same still, cloudy day, a brownish black -<span class="pb" id="Page_32">32</span> -creature appeared on the southern shore of the -lake and ambled along the edge of the water. -At first glance it looked like a black kitten, but -a plainer view showed it to be twice the length -of a kitten, although no larger round than a -man’s wrist. Its progress at times was almost -snake-like, so undulatory was it. Its head and -fore-quarters would be gliding down one side of -a log before its black tail and hind feet had -quite reached the log on the other side. The -edge of the pond was lined with tadpoles clinging -to logs and stones, with their heads towards -the shore. The black creature seemed to be -attempting to catch these fish-like batrachians, -for every few yards he pounced at something, -and, if successful, cantered out of sight, into -the weeds and bushes, where he remained until, -so I surmised, he had eaten his adolescent -frog. Although the raft was only about a hundred -feet from the western shore of the pond, -the mink kept his course past me, apparently -without a thought of anything beyond the wary -polywogs. He went as far as the mouth of the -muskrat hole and then turned and retraced his -cantering until I lost sight of him on the farther -southern shore. Several times, in his eagerness -to catch a tadpole, he plunged wholly beneath -the water and pursued his prey as though he -had been a pickerel.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_33">33</div> -<p>At the northeastern corner of the lake there -is a grove of oaks, the largest of which doubtless -stood there before this part of New England -was settled by white men. Squirrels hold this -grove as frisky tenants-in-common with woodchucks -and raccoons; a family of porcupines -having a right of way across it by virtue of unopposed -use running back till the memory of -rodents knoweth nothing to the contrary. I -have never been so fortunate as to find ’coons in -the grove, although some of my household have -found them, but I have seen their footprints in -the April snow. They are strange footprints, -which one can never mistake for any other. If -the dearest, plumpest baby in New England -patted the soft snow with its dimpled hands, it -could not make daintier images of its little -palms than this wild creature of the forest -makes with its feet, as it hurries over the new-fallen -snow. The most conspicuous squirrels -by the pond are the great bushy-tailed grays; -the most retiring are the refined little flying-squirrels, -which live in a deserted woodpecker’s -hole in a dead tree. The grays climb after -acorns to the highest limbs and branchlets of -the oaks, frequently breaking off leafy twigs, -and dropping acorns to the ground. Below, -watching for and improving their opportunities, -are striped chipmunks, which gather up a portion -<span class="pb" id="Page_34">34</span> -of the harvest and conceal it in their burrows. -Chickaree, too, is there, nervous, petulant, -and noisy, but he is more likely to be -found in the pines, or near the butternuts. In -winter, especially, the pine woods are alive with -red squirrels. I recall seeing twenty red squirrels -in a single midwinter day. Chipmunks -may be seen late in December, and by the end -of February, if it is warm, and the mouths of -their holes are not covered by snow, they are -ready to take a peep at the sky. They store -enormous quantities of food, and the heat and -moisture of their nests is such that they can eat -corn sprouts and acorn shoots in midwinter -while poor Chickaree is scratching about in the -cold snow for an unnibbled pine cone. The -gray squirrels are fond of the high-bush blueberries, -which grow in abundance on the margins -of the pond. They come down from the -oaks to the great fallen trees lying half on the -shore and half in the lake, and bask in the sunlight, -drink of the water, and run up and down -the logs with tails arched and waving behind -them.</p> -<p>The home of the porcupines is west of the -pond on the slope of a heavily wooded hill, the -sides of which are encumbered by very large -boulders. Beneath one of the largest of these -boulders and overhung by one almost as large, -<span class="pb" id="Page_35">35</span> -which rests against its mate, is the porcupines’ -den. By lying down between the rocks and -crawling forward into the mouth of the den I -can see several feet into its black interior. A -passage large enough for a hound to squeeze -through leads out of sight below the rocks. -Quills and hairs line the ground, and other -marks of long occupancy are abundant. I have -been told by farmers that they had killed old -“hedgehogs” weighing nearly fifty pounds. -Tales are told of white porcupines, and it is -impossible to shake the hunter’s belief in the -brutes’ power to shoot their quills at their -enemies.</p> -<p>The skunk is a well-known character at the -pond, but I have not sought her society, and it -is an open question whether she lives in a deserted -woodchuck hole or among the boulders -on the porcupine’s hill.</p> -<p>So far as I know, Bruin never comes to my -pond. He lives within sight of it among the -oaks and blueberry patches on the ledges of -Chocorua, and if his small eyes ever scan the -landscape from the cliffs above the heart of the -mountain, he can see its emerald water gleaming -in the sunlight. I am more than willing -not to find his huge footprints on my mosses. -Deer, on the other hand, go freely and frequently -to the pond, and in May and June -come to the garden patch below my cottage.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_36">36</div> -<p>Wings even more than feet bring wild life to -the lonely lake. The first time that I ever saw -the waters of the pond flashing and rippling in -the sunlight, wings awoke the echoes of the -basin as a flock of black ducks rose at my coming -and vanished behind the oaks. Wood ducks -nested for years in a hollow oak by the shore. -One bright October morning a black tern, borne -by storm or waywardness of wing, came to the -lake with five black ducks. That tiny mirror -in the deep woods seemed to please the weary -sea-bird, for it rested there many hours, and -even when alarmed circled for a while in the -sky and then returned to the spot where Chocorua’s -horn was reflected in the mountain pool. -The great numbers of tadpoles and frogs always -to be found in the lake attract not only the -great blue heron and the bitterns, but also the -night herons, which sometimes come in flocks of -eight or ten to fish in the lakes of this region. -Early in August of each year a kingfisher appears -at the pond and passes much of his time -by it. There are certain dry branches upon -which he perches one after another in order, as -he circles round the pond uttering his harsh -rattling cry. I suspect that fishing of the same -kind goes on after dark, for the lake is a favorite -resort of the barred owls, whose trumpet -tones are heard nightly at certain seasons. -<span class="pb" id="Page_37">37</span> -More than once I have seen them on branches -above the water, or floating on noiseless wing -from shore to shore. The fondness of this owl -for frogs and fish is remarkable, particularly -for hornpout, which abound in this lake. I have -known my captive owls to strike a fish with their -talons when it was several inches below the surface -of the water in a tank.</p> -<p>Many a time as I have been hidden by sheltering -boughs, scanning the lake and its shores -for signs of life, I have seen a dark shadow -glide across the water, and then a broad-winged -bird alight noiselessly on a dead limb from -which the whole surface of the lake could -be seen. Its face would express cruelty and -hunger, apprehension and something akin to -remorse. The eyes of a hawk are full of meaning; -they tell the story of guilt and of the eternal -misery of spirit which follows guilt. The -hawks which come to my pond are of several -species, including the slow <i>buteos</i>, which one -sees circling by the hour in the high skies; the -dangerous <i>accipiters</i>, so ruthless in their raids -upon poultry and small birds; and the low-flying, -graceful, mouse-hunting marsh hawk, -readily to be known by its white rump. At -evening the whippoorwills and their cousins the -night-hawks frequent the lake. Just at twilight -I have heard six whippoorwills at once singing -<span class="pb" id="Page_38">38</span> -their strange song on the edge of the water. -Perhaps they come there to bathe; at all events -they sing only for a moment, after which only -an occasional cluck or “whip” betrays their -presence. Late in August the night-hawks fly -in large companies, and as many as twenty-five -have sometimes wheeled into the lake’s basin -and circled over it, to the consternation of the -small frogs.</p> -<p>Behind the great oaks, in which scarlet tanagers -breed, there is a level overgrown with gray -birches. Nearly a dozen of these trees have -been converted into drinking fountains by a -family of sap-sucking woodpeckers, and through -the summer days, as long as the sap is sweet and -abundant, the indolent birds cling to the trunk, -sip the tree’s lifeblood as it drains away, and -catch a few of the many insects which hover -around the moist bark. The product of the -trees is shared with several humming-birds, and -the insects attract small flycatchers and warblers.</p> -<p>To tell of all the birds which either live near -the lake or come to it more or less regularly, -would be to recount the doings of most of the -six-score species which are found in the Chocorua -country. The lake is not only a favorite -place of resort for resident birds, but it is a -section of one of those dimly recognizable -<span class="pb" id="Page_39">39</span> -“lines” of migration along which bands of -spring and autumn birds seem by instinct to -take their way year by year. On this “line,” -above the lake shore, I met my first and only -Philadelphia vireo, one of the rarest of our -migrants.</p> -<p>The vegetation of the lake shore has a great -deal to do with its power to attract animal and -bird life. I know of some woods which are forever -silent to bird voices, and in which the snows -of winter seem untrodden by any foot save mine. -The lake was once in the heart of a white pine -forest. Scores of huge stumps show where the -giant trees lived until a tornado overturned -them. Now the canoe birch is the prevailing -tree, and few creations of the New England soil -can rival it in grace, beauty, and useful qualities. -The forest’s carpet of gray and green -mosses, wintergreen, checkerberry, linnæa, -dwarf cornel, asters and goldenrod, ferns and -brakes, is strangely lacking in one flower generally -common to the region. I have searched -for half a mile in every direction from the pond -and failed to find more than one root of the mayflower. -That root, with its three or four clusters -of flowers, is well hidden in a deeply shaded and -poorly watered spot, where its future is threatened -by a lack of all the elements which make -plant life prosperous. Near this solitary root -<span class="pb" id="Page_40">40</span> -of mayflower there grows an eccentric blueberry -bush, which bears pale pink and white berries -very sweet to the taste, but which never grow -blue. Here, too, is to be found the shy little -snowberry, whose fruit has the art of hiding -itself beneath glossy round leaves, so that close -search is needed to gather it. Along the banks -of the lake high-bush blueberries of fabulous -size tempt the stroller from his course. Some -of these berries were once mistaken for fox -grapes. In the moist sand at the foot of these -blueberry bushes, the modest houstonia blossoms -throughout six consecutive months of the year. -It comes in May, and it fades not until November. -The bunchberry retains its flowers in -these groves until long after its berries are red -elsewhere. Yet autumn flowers are not noticeably -slow in blooming by the lake. One of these -autumn flowers is an interesting hybrid, so recognized -at the Gray Herbarium. For four -years we have found several roots of a goldenrod -which is neither the <i>cæsia</i>, which it closely -resembled in form, nor the <i>bicolor</i>, from which -it inherits its white ray flowers. Both of these -familiar species grow near it, and are presumably -its parents.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig4"> -<img src="images/p040.jpg" alt="" width="633" height="999" /> -<p class="pcap">CANOE BIRCHES OF THE BEARCAMP VALLEY</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_41">41</div> -<p>Within the waters of the lake there is abundant -life. Years ago it was a famous trout -pond, stocked perhaps by the Indians, but the -malice of the white man spoiled it. A man who -had a grudge against those who most enjoyed -trout-fishing in the lake caught a pailful of horn-pout -and turned them into the green waters. -They multiplied, and now legions of them move -their hideous bodies back and forth through the -swaying weeds beneath its surface. They never -grow large, but their numbers are appalling. -Sometimes when, in a still summer evening, the -surface of the lake is unruffled by wind, and -myriads of small insects have fallen upon the -water, the pout appear in countless multitudes, -swimming so that their horns or tails show above -the water.</p> -<p>The tadpoles also are extraordinarily numerous -at some seasons, and they, too, have a way -of coming to the top of the water and contemplating -the upper world, to which they hope some -day rightfully to attain. A sudden stamp of -the foot upon the shore will cause hundreds of -these floating polywogs to splash into foam the -water over half the surface of the lake. The -painted tortoise lives in the lake, but no other -creature of his kind is found near it. In fact, -I have never seen the spotted turtle in the Bearcamp -valley. I once dug seventeen painted -turtles out of one hole in the mud on the western -edge of the lake, where they had crowded -for some reason of their own.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_42">42</div> -<p>Of all the many creatures which frequent the -lonely lake, the big blue heron seems to be the -most in sympathy with its shy silence and loneliness. -He is its king, and by his name the lake -is known.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_43">43</div> -<h2 id="c4"><span class="small">FOLLOWING A LOST TRAIL.</span></h2> -<p>Of the many roads which start northward -from Bearcamp Water, every one is either -warded off by the Sandwich range into the Saco -or into the Pemigewasset valley, or else smothered -in the dark forest-clad ravines between the -mountain ridges. From Conway on the east to -Campton and Thornton on the west, there is no -rift in the mountain wall through which travel -flows. There was a time, however, before the -Civil War, when near the middle of the great -barrier the human current found an outlet -southward from the upper end of Swift River -intervale to the Bearcamp Valley. Sitting by -the fireside of a sturdy Albany farmer as the -December moonlight gleamed upon the level -snows of the intervale, I heard stories of the -lumbermen’s journeys through those dark and -narrow passes. Great spars and masts, the -farmer said, had been hauled out of the valley -under the frowning cliffs of Paugus, and carried -safely to the level fields of Sandwich. Then -there arose a storm such as old men know but -once in a lifetime, and the passes were filled -<span class="pb" id="Page_44">44</span> -with tangled masses of wrecked forest. All the -axes in Albany and Tamworth could not have -cut a way through the snarl without many weeks -of exhausting labor. So at least thought the -lumbermen who attempted to pass the abattis -raised by the storm. Years elapsed and the -road became only a matter of vague tradition. -Those who climbed the peak of Passaconaway -or the lofty ledges of Paugus saw below them a -panorama of ruin. Bleached bones of the great -spruce forest lay there piled in magnificent confusion. -Over the débris, springing from its -midst, a dense growth of mountain ash, wild -cherry, and hobble-bush made the chaos more -chaotic. No trace of the lost trail was visible -even to the most fanciful eye.</p> -<p>Between Paugus and Chocorua the hurricane -had not done its worst work. There one could -see four miles of narrow ravine reaching from -the Tamworth fields directly northward to a -steep ridge connecting Paugus with Chocorua -at their northern slopes. On the other side of -the barrier lay the Swift River intervale. If -that ridge were out of the way, if it could be -easily surmounted, or if a rift could be found -in it, the journey of nearly thirty miles from -the southern spurs of Paugus, round through -Conway to the northern spurs, would be reduced -to eight or nine miles. The people living at -<span class="pb" id="Page_45">45</span> -the upper end of Swift River valley, instead of -having to travel sixteen miles to a post-office, -doctor, minister, or store, could touch civilization -by driving about eleven miles.</p> -<p>At half past four on the morning of Saturday, -July 30, I drove rapidly away from my -red-roofed cottage towards the southern foot of -Paugus. Long days of parching heat had been -brought to an end by a series of three heavy -thunderstorms, which had drenched the country -during the preceding evening. Nature had -revived. The sky was bluer, the forest greener, -the gold of the goldenrod more intense. Every -particle of dust had been washed out of the air -and off the many-tinted garments of the earth. -For nearly a fortnight the mercury had been -among the nineties as often as the clock struck -noon. To face a cool breeze, to see everything -sparkling with moisture, to have the air feel -and appear thin and clear, was inspiring and -exhilarating. To find the lost trail into the -Swift River valley was now a matter of delightful -interest.</p> -<p>At the southern foot of Paugus is a ruined -mill and an old lumber camp. A good road -leads thither from the highway, and the house -at the point where the lumber road begins is -the home of Nat. Berry, farmer, lumberman, -hunter, trapper, surveyor, carpenter, and public-spirited -<span class="pb" id="Page_46">46</span> -citizen. I felt that if any man on -the southern side of the mountains knew a way -through them, that man was Berry. Two years -before, while wandering over the ridges of Chocorua, -I had been caught in one of Berry’s forty-pound -steel bear traps. The springs of the trap -were weak and it was deeply buried in the moss, -so that before its cruel jaws had closed firmly -upon my ankle, I thrust the stock of my gun -between them and withdrew my foot. Berry’s -greeting, as we drove up to his house, showed -that he had not forgotten my adventure, for -he shouted, “Come at last, have you, to let me -cut off them ears? Can’t c’lect my bounty on -you without ’em.” A few words told Berry of -my errand, and he at once showed interest in -the quest.</p> -<p>“Thirty-seven year ago,” he said, “when I -was only twelve year old, a road was run -through from this house to the back settlements. -It was a winter road, but I recollect that a man -and his wife drove over it in a pung. They -went clean through. About fifteen year ago I -went in where you are a-going, with a railroad -surveyor, and he said there was only five hundred -feet rising between here and the height of -land. There used to be another road between -Toadback and Passaconaway, but that’s all -choked up now by the harricane. This road is -<span class="pb" id="Page_47">47</span> -between Toadback and Coroway, and I know -that four miles of it is about as good going now -as ever it was.”</p> -<p>It required little urging to induce Berry to -join us, and our horse’s head was turned northward -into the lumber road leading to the lost -trail. As we drove away from fields, roads, -and the surroundings of habitations, animal life -grew less and less abundant, and plant life less -varied. Around the farms robins, sparrows, -and swallows are to be seen or heard at every -hour in the day. Woodpeckers and chickadees -abound in the orchards, and even hawks spend -more time in sight of hen-yards than they do in -the gloomy solitudes of the mountains. By the -roadside goldenrod was in its glory, while St. -John’s-wort was growing rusty. The pink of -hardback and thistles large and small, the yellow -of the mullein, the reds of fireweed, pasture -lily, and the sumac fruit, the purple of -vervain, early asters, and the persistent brunella, -and the white of the exquisite dalibarda, of -immortelles, arrowhead, and the graceful spiranthes -in turn caught the eye as the wagon rolled -by pasture and sandbank, meadow, copse, and -swamp.</p> -<p>From Berry’s house we drove a long mile -before the true primeval forest was reached. -There, in a clearing of an acre or more, were -<span class="pb" id="Page_48">48</span> -the ruins of a saw-mill, two or three slab houses, -and a collapsed stable where the lumbermen’s -oxen had been kept in the winter nights, years -ago. In the mill’s time sawdust had covered -everything; but now the strong, quarrelsome -blackberry had mastered the sawdust. Our -guide pointed to a break in the solid wall of -woods surrounding the mill, so we struggled -through the blackberry jungle and left the sunlight -behind us. As we entered the forest, -bird music ceased, few flowers decked the -ground,—the pallid Indian pipe seeming more -akin to the fungi than to flowers,—and not a -squirrel disturbed the quiet of the endless aisles. -Here and there small brightly colored toadstools -and the fruit of bunchberry or clintonia lent -a bit of vermilion, orange, yellow, or lustrous -metallic blue to the dull brown carpet of the -woods; or a branch of maple, prematurely -robbed of its chlorophyll, gleamed in the far-off -sunlight among the tree-tops. If by chance the -eye caught a glimpse of the flowers of the rattlesnake -plantain, or of some of the greenish wood -orchids, it found in them less color than in the -toadstools and less perfume than in the needles -of the balsam.</p> -<p>There extended before us a clearly marked -passageway between the giant trunks of ancient -trees. It was the beginning of the old trail. -<span class="pb" id="Page_49">49</span> -Stout young saplings had grown up within it, -and the long interlacing stems of the hobble-bush, -or “tangle-foot” as Berry called it, concealed -its many inequalities. We proceeded -slowly, cutting away bushes as we went, and -the horse followed with the wagon, which rose -and fell over logs and boulders as though tossed -on the waves of the sea. At the end of half a -mile, we decided to leave the horse with all of -our impedimenta except axes and luncheon. A -space was accordingly cleared, and Kitty, tied -to a large tree, was fenced in on two sides to -prevent her from walking around the tree, and -so choking herself.</p> -<p>The trees which formed the forest were of -many kinds, making it much more interesting -than the monotonous spruce growth of the -higher slopes. Those which were to all appearance -the oldest were the yellow birches, hundreds -of them having trunks over ten feet in -circumference at a point two feet from the -ground. Some of the giant hemlocks were -larger, but they are, I believe, trees of more -rapid growth than the yellow birch and so probably -less venerable. There was a large representation -of ancient beech-trees with trunks -which looked as hard as granite, yet which made -me think of wrestlers with swollen muscles -strained and knotted under the tightly drawn -<span class="pb" id="Page_50">50</span> -skin. Some of the beeches seemed to have begun -life in mid-air, for their trunks rested upon -tripods or polypods of naked and spreading -roots, which held them two or even three feet -from the surface of the soil. In other cases -these polypods clasped great boulders in their -unyielding embrace, showing that the beech in -its infancy had taken root upon the top of the -rock, and year by year extended its thirsty tentacles -lower and lower down the sides of its -mossy foundation until the soil was reached. -Then the hungry sapling, fed for so long on -meagre supplies of food and water, must have -expanded with sudden vigor, while its roots -grew strong and gripped the rock in tighter and -tighter embrace. The only way of accounting -for the empty polypods seemed to be to suppose -the trees to have sprouted upon stumps prone -to decay, or upon rocks capable of rapid disintegration. -Many of the glimpses through these -beech woods reminded me of the grotesque forest -pictures which are produced so frequently -in German woodcuts.</p> -<p>Huge maples, with bark resembling that of -ancient oaks, formed an important part of the -forest, and so did canoe birches of various ages, -solitary white pines of immense height, and old-growth -spruces, the last named becoming more -and more numerous as our road gained higher -<span class="pb" id="Page_51">51</span> -levels. Dozens of these trees had been struck -by lightning and more or less injured. One -had been completely shattered and surrounded -by a spiral abattis of huge splinters stuck firmly -into the ground.</p> -<p>The twilight and silence of the forest made -it restful at first, but as the day wore on, rare -glimpses of distance and of sunlight were as -welcome to us as to men confined between -prison walls.</p> -<p>We had gone rather more than three miles -from Berry’s house when our guide paused and -said: “There, the old road is missing for a -piece beyond this, and the best we can do is to -head north and spot the trees as we go.”</p> -<p>To that point there had been evident, to eyes -accustomed to forest travel, a difference between -the continuity of large timber and the -strip once cleared of this timber in order to -form the road. Looking back, we could see the -passage; looking forward, there seemed to be -no trace of it. The greater part of Paugus had -been passed on our left, and on our right the -peak of Chocorua, which at Berry’s had been -northeast, was now a little south of east from -us. Before us the valley narrowed somewhat, -and far ahead a continuation of the ridge of -Paugus seemed to cross the northern sky line -and approach the northern spurs of Chocorua. -<span class="pb" id="Page_52">52</span> -Blazing the trees as we walked by them, both -on our left and on our right, on the south side -of the trunks and on their north sides also, we -pushed forward due north. Ever since leaving -the ruined mill our way had lain close to the -foot of Paugus, the width of the valley being -between us and the foot of Chocorua. Nearly -a mile was traversed before we touched the wall -of Paugus barring the north and forcing us to -bend eastward. Entering a narrow ravine, -none too wide for a single road at its bottom, -we came once more upon the lost trail. Marks -of the axe were frequent, but the great hemlocks -which it had felled were mere moss-covered -pulp, and from their stumps viburnum or young -trees had sprouted. Berry found spots on the -trees which he remembered to have made when -he guided the engineer through the pass fifteen -years before. The walls of the ravine grew -steeper, and across it fallen trees occasionally -blocked the way. Presently it bent sharply to -the left, so that we were once more headed -northward, and then it widened into an amphitheatre -half a mile in width, wholly surrounded -by steep and rocky sides. The old trail was -again lost, and Berry declared that out of this -pocket there was no outlet save over the towering -ridge at the north. The story of the man -and woman in a sleigh, who had once crossed -<span class="pb" id="Page_53">53</span> -this frowning barrier, alone sustained our hopes -of finding a pass which could be opened to -wheels.</p> -<p>My watch said that it was 10.30 <span class="sc">A. M.</span> As -we had begun our first meal at four <span class="sc">A. M.</span>, a -second one seemed appropriate; so in the face -of our frowning crisis we lay upon the moss -and made way with the larger part of our knapsack’s -contents. A red squirrel, inquisitive, -petulant Chickaree, came down from the ridge -and chattered to us. Far above in the treetops -two birds called loudly to each other. -Their notes were new to me, and so shy were -they that I secured only a distant glimpse of -them through my glass. They seemed to prefer -the highest tips of dead trees, from which they -darted now and then into the air after insects. -It did not require much knowledge of birds to -assign this noisy couple to the family of the -tyrant flycatchers, and their size was so great as -to make them one of three species,—kingbirds, -great crested flycatchers, or olive-sided flycatchers. -As I knew the first two well, from daily -chances to watch their habits, I felt practically -certain that these keepers of the pass were the -wild, wayward, and noisy olive-sided flycatchers -of which I had heard so often, but never before -met on their breeding-grounds. Luncheon over, -we faced the barrier, and, selecting a shallow -<span class="pb" id="Page_54">54</span> -ravine in its side, began the ascent. While -struggling over huge boulders and winding -around fallen trees we did not feel as though -wheels were ever likely to go where legs were -having so hard a time. Still the ascent was -made in less than ten minutes, and to a practical -road-builder the slope, cleared of its surface -débris, would present few serious obstacles.</p> -<p>On reaching the top we gained a view of the -peak of Chocorua well to the south of east, and -of the ramparts of Paugus, half spruce hung -and half bald rock, bounding the long valley -through which our morning tramp had taken -us. The peak of Chocorua had lost its horn-like -contour and resembled more a combing -wave dashing northward. It was the only part -of the mountain proper to be seen, as in the -foreground a massive spur projecting northwestward -completely concealed the principal mass. -Looking towards the north, the prospect was -disheartening. The ridge on which we stood -had been a battleground of the elements. It -was, in the language of this region, a “harricane,” -and woe to the man who ventures into a -“harricane.” We advanced cautiously, choosing -our ground, and cutting a narrow path -through the small spruces, cherry saplings, and -mountain maples which had overgrown the -fallen forest. Every few steps we came upon -<span class="pb" id="Page_55">55</span> -stumps which bore the axe mark instead of that -of the storm. We surmised that we had struck -a belt which had been “lumbered” before the -hurricane had completed its destruction. Fighting -on yard by yard, we crossed the top of the -ridge and gained its northern edge. There the -signs of timber cutting were plainer, and presently -I noticed a curious ribbon of saplings -reaching down the slope in front of us. The -young trees in it were higher than the wreck on -each side of it, yet the ribbon was the road and -the wreck was all that remained of the forest -through which the road had been cut long years -ago. The broken thread of the lost trail had -been found. Behind us a blazed path reached -into the Bearcamp valley; before us the lumber -road wound downward a short two miles to the -Swift River road, now plainly visible over the -sloping tree-tops.</p> -<p>We followed the lumber road down about a -mile, searching for a hut which Berry remembered -to have seen. As we descended, the -“harricane” was left behind, and our ribbon of -saplings led into the forest, its massed stems -contrasting oddly with the wide-spaced trunks -of the primeval growth. Coming to the hut, -which Berry said had been built twenty years -before, we found it remarkably well preserved. -Straw still remained in the lumbermen’s bunks, -<span class="pb" id="Page_56">56</span> -pieces of the stove lay on the floor, and although -the roof had been sprung by snow resting heavily -upon it, the hut was as dry and habitable as -ever. It even retained the “stuffy” smell of a -dirty and ill-ventilated house. It was inhabited, -too, not by men, but by hedgehogs, as the American -porcupine is universally called in New -Hampshire. They had been under it, through -it, and over it. Every piece of stair, joist, or -floor, upon which salt or grease had fallen, had -been gnawed away by them. They had slept in -the bunks both upstairs and down, and the stairs -bore traces of their constant use.</p> -<p>In front of the hut stood a watering-trough. -It was a huge log hollowed by the axe into two -tanks, a small one at the upper end for man’s -use, and a larger one below for the cattle. -Small logs had been neatly grooved as spouts to -lead the water from the brook to the trough. -Moss grew upon them now and the summer sunlight -shone upon them, but it was easy to imagine -the snow piled high upon the hills, smothering -the brooks and burying the rough spouts, -and to fancy that over the trampled snow the -woolly and steaming oxen came to drink of the -water, while a sturdy French Canadian broke -the ice with his axe and drank at the spot where -from under the snow the spouts led the water -into his end of the dugout. The cattle are dead, -<span class="pb" id="Page_57">57</span> -the axe has rusted, the Canadian has been killed -in a brawl, or has gone back to his River St. -Lawrence to spend his old age under the shadow -of the cross, but the brook still murmurs over -its pebbles, and when snow falls by the trough -and the hut it is cleaner and purer than the -foot of the lumberman left it.</p> -<p>Woe to the man who ventures into a “harricane”! -Not content with the road which we -had made and found over the ridge, we sought, -as we turned homewards, to see whether another -lumber road, which came into ours from the -southeast, did not cross the ridge by an easier -grade. Following it upward higher and higher, -we came at last to an open ledge from which -a beautiful view was gained. Northward of us -frowned Bear Mountain, dark in its spruces. -To its left were Lowell, Nancy, Anderson, and -the rest of the proud retinue of Carrigain. -Deep shadows lay in Carrigain Notch. Bluer -and fairer, higher and more distant, the heads -of Bond, Willey, and the Franconia Mountains -rested against the sky. To the westward, above -the long rampart of Paugus with its flat, gray -cliffs capped by black spruce, towered the cone -of Passaconaway, wooded to its very tip. Southward, -just across a deep ravine and behind a -heavily timbered spur, was Chocorua, its great -tooth cutting into the blue heavens. Though we -<span class="pb" id="Page_58">58</span> -enjoyed the picture of the distance, we were filled -with something like despair at the foreground. -On three sides of us the “harricane” extended -as far as the nature of the ground permitted us -to see. Westward, along the ridge, in the direction -in which lay our trail of the morning, it -reached for half a mile at least, and through it -we must go, unless, indeed, we preferred to retrace -our steps into the Swift River valley and -regain our path by such an ignominious circuit. -Seen from above, that half-mile of forest wreck -looked like a jack-straw table of the gods. -Thousands of trees, averaging sixty or seventy -feet in height, had been uprooted and flung together -“every which way.” They were flat upon -the ground, piled in parallel lines, crossed at -right angles, head to head, root to root, twisted -as though by a whirlwind, or matted together as -they might have been had a sea of water swept -them from hill-crest to valley. Boulders of -various sizes lay under the wreck, and, to make -its confusion more distracting, saplings, briers, -and vines flourished upon the ground shaded -and enriched by the wasting ruin.</p> -<p>It took more than an hour to climb and tumble -over half a mile of this tangle. Any one -who has watched an ant laboriously traversing -a stubble-field or a handful of hay, crawling -along one straw, across some, under others, and -<span class="pb" id="Page_59">59</span> -anon climbing to a height to consult the distance, -will know how we made our journey. -Men go through great battles without a scratch, -but they could not penetrate a “harricane” with -any such fortunate results.</p> -<p>The spots on our blazed trees seemed as -friendly as home on a winter’s night, when at -last we reached them and began the southward -march. As we had been two hours without -water, the first brook drew us to its side and -held us entranced by its tiny cascades. In the -pool from which I drank, half a dozen caddis-worm -cases lay upon the sand at the bottom. -They were sand, yet not of the sand, for mind -had rescued them from the monotony of their -matter and made them significant of life. They -had faithfully guarded their little builders while -dormant, and now those awakened tenants had -risen from the water, dried their gauzy wings -in the sun and vanished in airy wanderings. -Near the brook lay a dead tree, and upon it were -fastened a number of brightly colored fungi. -Their lower surfaces and margins were creamy -white, then a band of orange vermilion passed -around them, while the upper and principal part -was greenish gray marked with dark brown -wavelike lines. They reminded me, by their -color and surface, of the tinted clay images or -costume figures which are made by peasants in -<span class="pb" id="Page_60">60</span> -several parts of southern Europe, and in Japan. -Anything more in contrast with the gloom of -a northern forest would be hard to discover. -Much of the ground near the brook was covered -by yew bushes, on which, brilliant as jewels, -gleamed their pendent and slightly attached red -berries. The mosses and lichens were the glory -of the wood. Never parched by thirst in these -perpetual shades, they grew luxuriantly on -boulders, fallen logs, standing trees, the faces -of ledges, and over the moist brook banks and -beds of leaf mould. What the great forest was -to us, that the mosses must be to the minute -insects which live among them.</p> -<p>So thoroughly had we spotted the trees in the -morning, that as we followed our trail back -there was not a moment when our eyes hesitated -as to the direction of the path.</p> -<p class="center gs">· · · · · · ·</p> -<p>Four days passed, and on the morning of the -fifth a gay column wound its way through the -forest following the regained trail. Nearly a -score of axes, hatchets, and savage machettas -resounded upon the trees and shrubs which encroached -upon the road. Behind the axemen -came several horses, each bearing a rider as -courageous as she was fair. If branches -menaced the comfort of these riders, they were -speedily hewn away; if the hobble-bush hid -<span class="pb" id="Page_61">61</span> -hollows or boulders in the road, it was cut off at -the root; if a ford or a bog offered uncertain -footing to the snorting horses, strong hands -grasped their bridles and they were led through -to surer ground. When the difficulties of the -road became serious, the horses were left behind -and the column pressed forward on foot. The -ridge was met and stormed, the “harricane” -was safely pierced, the hedgehog’s hut was visited -and passed, and the old lumber road was -followed swiftly down to the grass-land and -highway of the Albany intervale. If one woman -in days long past had traversed the winter -road in a sleigh, others of her sex had now overcome -greater difficulties and broken the stubborn -barrier of the Sandwich range.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_62">62</div> -<h2 id="c5"><span class="small">A NIGHT ALONE ON CHOCORUA.</span></h2> -<p>The 10th of August ranked, by the family -thermometer, as next to the hottest day of the -summer. It was a marked day in my calendar,—marked -long in advance for a night alone on -the narrow rock which forms the tip of Chocorua’s -peak. It was chosen on account of the -display of meteors which, in case of a clear sky, -always makes that night attractive for a vigil. -On August 10, 1891, I counted two hundred -and fifty meteors between sunset and eleven -o’clock <span class="sc">P. M.</span> As I watched the sky, and saw -the great rock of the peak rising sharply into -it, I determined that another year I would -count my meteors from its summit, and not from -the common level of a field.</p> -<p>By four o’clock in the afternoon a breeze had -drifted down to us from the mountains, and behind -them cloud-heads were rising in the northwest. -Fanned by the breeze and undaunted by -clouds, I began the ascent of Chocorua by the -Hammond path. In the woods the breeze was -stifled by the trees, and I was stifled by the still -heat which oppressed all nature. For three -<span class="pb" id="Page_63">63</span> -miles the only bird I heard was a red-eyed -vireo, and the only one I saw was a grouse -which flew from the path. In the road below -and along the trail up the mountain there were -dozens of young toads. They were about the -size of the Indian’s head on a cent. I wondered -how far up the trail I should find them, -so I watched closely as the path grew steeper -and steeper. The last one seen was about sixteen -hundred feet above the sea, and one thousand -feet above the Hammond clearing where I -first noticed them. There is no still water -within a mile of the point where I found the -last one. In view of such facts, it is not difficult -to account for the popular belief that young -toads fall from the clouds with rain.</p> -<p>Clearing the forest, and reaching the open -ledges on the crest of the great southeastern -ridge of Chocorua, along which the Hammond -path runs towards the peak, I saw that a storm -was gathering in the west. Piles of thunderheads -were rolling up beyond Whiteface and -the Sandwich Dome, and tending northward. -Chocorua might be too far east to be included -in the drenching which was in store. It was -not too far away to lose the cool wind which -suddenly changed my gasping heat into a shiver. -With a quicker pace I pushed towards the foot -of the peak.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_64">64</div> -<p>All but one of the well-marked paths up -Chocorua spend too much time in the ravines -and woods. It is discouraging to toil mile -after mile through uninteresting small growth, -without a breath of cool air or a glimpse of distance. -The Hammond path cancels nearly half -the height of the mountain in the first mile of -woodland, and then rewards the climber by successive -views which grow more charming as -ledge after ledge is passed. While following -the top of the slowly rising and scantily wooded -ridge, the peak is seen coming nearer and nearer, -and growing more and more impressive. Range -after range of northern mountains rise above -the foreground, and the far horizon widens -slowly. When the foot of the peak is finally -reached, shutting out for a time all that is -grandest in the view, the climber feels that he -must scale those forbidding cliffs, whatever becomes -of him when the final struggle is over. -So I felt as, at about half past six, I gained the -top of the mountain’s shoulder and looked up at -the huge rock which forms its awful head. The -eastern side of the peak is so precipitous that -few have the temerity even to try to scale it. -The southern side is broken into smaller cliffs, -between which tufts of spruces grow. In winter -this face is quite readily climbed upon the packed -snow, but in summer wide sloping ledges polished -by ice make the way difficult and dangerous to -the novice. A few score rods to the west, yet -still on the southern face of the peak, there is a -rift in the cliffs filled with small trees and fragments -of rock. This cleft leads straight upwards -to a small sandy plateau on the west side -of the peak, two thirds of the way to its summit. -As I struggled up this almost perpendicular ravine, -I heard the steady roar of thunder, and -saw above me black clouds surging across the -sky. It would have been dark had not the -south been filled with silvery light and hazy -sunset glory. A black-mouthed cave upon my -right offered a refuge. Hedgehogs lived in it, -but its outer chamber would be storm-proof. -Should I wait? No, storm or no storm, I would -gain the peak, and do my part to keep my tryst -with the stars.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig5"> -<img src="images/p064.jpg" alt="" width="698" height="1000" /> -<p class="pcap">THE PEAK OF CHOCORUA FROM THE HAMMOND TRAIL</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_65">65</div> -<p>Stumbling out of the ravine upon the plateau, -I faced the north. A picture was there which -made the memory of Doré’s strongest delineations -of Dante’s visions seem weak. On my -right was an upright wall of black rock, on my -left an abyss. Northward, before me, lay that -wilderness of forests and peaks which forms the -White Mountains, thirty miles square of spruce -forests, and all of it on edge,—a sierra forbidding -at its best, but now made terrible by a -tempest. The higher heavens were filled with -<span class="pb" id="Page_66">66</span> -loose, rounded black clouds with white spaces -between them. Below them, impending over -a belt of country about ten miles north of me, -was a very long but narrow cloud, black as ink, -with a clean-cut lower edge as straight as a level. -From it forked lightning was playing downward. -The outlines of the mountains were singularly -clear. I could see, beginning at the right, the -Presidential Range, the Crawford Notch, Anderson, -Nancy, Lowell, the Carrigain Notch, -Carrigain; and then, partly obscured by rain, -the Franconia Mountains and the nearer heights -of Tripyramid and its neighbors. Just over -Tripyramid, reaching nearly to the zenith, was -an opening in the clouds, a narrow space between -two storms. It was clear gold within, -but hideous black profiles were outlined against -it, as though the fiends of one storm were looking -across it at their allied hosts in the second -bank of clouds now hurrying upward from the -southwest.</p> -<p>Turning sharply to the right, I found and -climbed the rough path leading up the rocks to -the highest point on the peak. Three thousand -feet below me, in that peaceful valley by the -lake, was my home. I could just see its red -roof among the trees. Wind ripples were chasing -each other across the lake, marring its white -surface. The lake is heart-shaped, and my cottage -<span class="pb" id="Page_67">67</span> -rests at the tip. No storm impended over -those whom I had left behind, but the voice of -the thunder reminded me of what was passing -to the northward.</p> -<p>Under the long level black cloud, from which -zigzag lightning darted downward like a snake’s -tongue, were three zones of color. The first, -nearest the east, and at the head of the storm as -it moved forward, was gray. It was formed of -scud. The second was black, and from it shot -most of the lightning. The third was snowy -white shaded by perpendicular lines. This was -the rain. Each belt seemed to be two miles or -more in width, and the whole was moving about -twenty miles an hour. When I reached the -peak, Carrigain Notch was just passing under -the scud, and as I watched, Lowell, Anderson, -and Nancy were in turn obscured. By the time -Mount Nancy was covered, Carrigain and its -notch were reappearing. Meanwhile, the golden -gap in the clouds had closed, and the second -storm was approaching. Its course was such as -to take in Chocorua, Paugus, and the Swift -River intervale which lay just below me on the -north. Wild as the first storm made the northern -sky, the second one seemed bent upon making -the picture even more gloomy. It was the -moment of sunset, but the sun was lost in a -wilderness of thunder-clouds. Suddenly a sound -<span class="pb" id="Page_68">68</span> -clear and sweet came to me. It was the first -sound, save thunder and wind, that I had heard -since reaching the peak. A long, pure note, -followed by one much higher, repeated several -times, formed the song of my companion on the -heights. It was the farewell to the day of a -white-throated sparrow, that sweetest singer of -the mountain peaks. A feeling of forlornness -which had been creeping over me was dispelled. -Let the storm come; I was ready for it.</p> -<p>Not many rods below the peak, on the very -verge of the eastern crag, stands an enormous -detached rock, roughly cubical in shape, and at -least twenty feet in each dimension. This rock, -which is known as “the Cow,” rests upon a -narrow shelf having a saucer-shaped depression -about fifteen feet in diameter in its upper surface. -The Cow projects slightly beyond the -outer edge of the ledge, but at the point where -it projects the concavity of the under granite -leaves a space exactly eighteen inches in height -and several feet long, which admits light into -the hollow beneath the Cow.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig6"> -<img src="images/p068.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="830" /> -<p class="pcap">“THE COW”</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_69">69</div> -<p>Years before, I -had discovered this strange cave, and had found -that a projecting corner of rock gave standing-room -near enough to the narrow mouth to allow -a man to creep into it. To this shelter I determined -to take my luggage for safe-keeping during -the rain. As I wound my way down the -zigzag path to the cave, a junco flew past me in -the gloom and chirped inquiringly. A drop or -two of rain fell. Thunder roared in the southwest -as well as in the north. The mountains -had lost the wonderful dark violet shade which -they possessed before the light faded, and were -now almost black, those nearest being darkest. -As I reached the mouth of the cave, an uncomfortable -thought intruded itself upon my mind,—was -it possible that bears used the cave? I -peered in. The place was empty now, at all -events. Pushing in my oilskin coat, jersey, -knapsack with lunch, lantern, and star-atlas, I -slid in after them. At the deepest part of the -depression in the ledge, the space between the -rock below and the rock above is thirty inches. -I could not sit up straight, but I could recline -comfortably at various angles. Lighting my -lantern, I unpacked my bag and furnished my -lodgings. A watch, match-box, foot rule, thermometer, -pencil, a mirror for signaling, compass, -hunting-knife, bird whistles, supper, -breakfast, and dry underclothing made the cave -seem quite homelike. The dry clothing attracted -me, for I was wet with perspiration, -and my thermometer reminded me that I felt -chilly. I listened. Was it raining? No. -Taking my lantern, supper, and dry clothes, I -wriggled to the entrance and regained the air. -<span class="pb" id="Page_70">70</span> -Happy thought: if any bear could get into that -cave, it would be a very thin one. Unhappy -thought: his thinness would betoken all the -greater hunger.</p> -<p>There was a lull in the storm, for although -everything above was black, the wind seemed -to have died away and the thunder to be very -distant. On the narrow ledge between the -towering pinnacle and the black abyss below -the Cow, I discarded my damp clothes and put -on the dry ones. The change was comforting. -I was glad when it was accomplished, for I had -no inclination to fight a bear in the costume of -Mulvaney at the taking of Lungtungpen.</p> -<p>Step by step I crept back up the cliff to the -summit. There was wind enough on top, and -my lantern had to be thrust into a crack in the -rock on the lee side to keep it not only from -blowing out, but from blowing away. The top -of Chocorua is about the shape and size of a -large, wide dining-table. On the south, other -levels lead up to it gradually; but west, north, -and east this highest rock is bounded by abrupt -sides, from which a fall in the night would be a -serious matter. Lying down on this dizzy platform, -I ate my supper with savage relish, and -took new account of the night and its pictures. -Except when lightning illumined some part of -the horizon, the only things visible to me were -<span class="pb" id="Page_71">71</span> -the long black ridge of Paugus, the hump of -Passaconaway over Paugus, fragments of white -ledges on the northern spurs of Chocorua, and -lakes in the valley. Even Ossipee Lake, fifteen -miles or more away, was plainly distinguishable -as a white spot in the surrounding -gloom. Lights shone from many of the cottages -near Chocorua Lake, and from Birch intervale, -Albany intervale, and Conway. They -were the connecting link between me and the -rest of mankind. In the sky there was absolute -blackness, curiously broken once by the sudden -appearance of the red planet for the space of a -single minute. Sometimes a few drops of rain -fell, but the second storm seemed to be reserving -most of its strength for a region farther -east. It was now nine o’clock, and the first -storm had passed far over into Maine, its lightning -playing with rapid flashes behind Mount -Pequawket. At every flash the sky just behind -the pyramidal peak assumed the color of dead -gold, while the mountain was embossed upon it -like an emblem on a shield. Occasionally the -second storm produced lightning, and when it -did so the effects were startling, so near was the -heavenly fire. One flash was from side to side -across a low cloud which hung near Chocorua -on the east. It was very vivid, and so complex -with its many delicate lines and loops of light -<span class="pb" id="Page_72">72</span> -that a fiery sentence appeared to have been -written on the sky. Another bolt was broad -and straight, and went down into the forest like -an arrow. It was so near and so brilliant that -for almost a minute I could see nothing. The -thunder which followed it began in the zenith, -and rolled away, booming and crashing, in three -directions, lasting so long that I wished I had -timed it, to see for how many seconds its terrific -echoes refused to subside. As many of its -rumblings and mutterings resounded from the -ravines and hillsides below me, the effect of this -great peal was unlike any I had ever before -heard.</p> -<p>While I was listening to the sighing of the -wind-tossed forest in the hollows eastward of -the mountain, another sound reached my ears, -and made me concentrate my senses in an effort -to determine its nature. At the moment I -heard it, I was somewhat below the peak, leaning -against a wall of rock facing the south. -The sound seemed to come from above. It -resembled that made by a thin stick or shingle -when whirled rapidly in the air. At the same -time there was a creaking, and sounds almost -like wailing and groaning. A moment later, a -slender column of white cloud, a hundred feet -or more in height, but proportioned like a human -figure, glided past the mountain over the -black abyss below the eastern cliffs. It is -needless to say that I was interested in these -phenomena. I was much more than interested; -and the fact that I was absolutely alone, in the -dark, miles away from home, with a storm howling -around me, was brought clearly to my mind. -The legend of Chocorua, the Indian for whom -this mountain was named, of his curse upon the -whites, and of his melancholy death near these -eastern cliffs, rose, for some illogical reason, -into my memory.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig7"> -<img src="images/p072.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="688" /> -<p class="pcap">THE PEAK FROM THE SOUTHEAST</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_73">73</div> -<p>The sounds in the air continued, and at one -time made me wonder whether electric waves -passing through the low-hanging clouds above -me could produce them. There being no light -accompanying the sounds, I dismissed this hypothesis -as unsatisfactory. Once I thought that -something was scratching and grinding down -the side of a sloping ledge. Since rain began -falling thick and fast at the same moment, I -seized my lantern and retreated to the cave. -When I gained the dizzy rock at the mouth -of the cave, the heavens again spoke, and mist-forms -swept past in front of me. The next -moment I was at the bottom of the cave, wondering -whether a temperature of 60°, which my -thermometer recorded, justified wholly the goose-flesh -that crept over me.</p> -<p>My lantern cast a clear, steady light into all -<span class="pb" id="Page_74">74</span> -parts of the cave. Now and then a flash of -lightning showed where the entrance faced the -east, and where one or two other cracks were -open between the Cow and its rocky foundation. -I lay perfectly motionless, pondering upon the -strange sounds I had heard. My eyes rested -upon several stones lying in the narrow space -beyond my feet where the two rocks neared each -other. Something moved there. A body had -passed from the shelter of one stone to that -of another. I held my breath, and watched. -Again a brownish thing flashed past an opening, -came nearer, darted forward into the light, -vanished, reappeared, came clearly into view, -shot back, and finally sped across a broad, well-lighted -face of rock, and revealed itself as a -large short-tailed mouse,—perhaps an Eastern -<i>Phenacomys</i> as yet unknown to collectors. Although -I did not move for a long time, he failed -to reappear, and my only companion was a -gauzy-winged fly which sat upon my knee and -contemplated the flame of the lantern.</p> -<p>The rain continuing, I sang and whistled until -after ten o’clock, when I crawled to the -mouth of my cave and looked down into the -depths beneath. A stone thrown far out, so as -to clear the first few ledges, might fall eight -hundred feet before it struck the rocks below. -As I stared into the darkness, I found that -<span class="pb" id="Page_75">75</span> -much which had been invisible an hour earlier -was now dimly outlined in black and white. -The sky, too, showed gaps in its curtain, and -the white lakes in the distant valleys were more -silvery than before. The storm was over, the -moon was at work eating the clouds, and soon, -I hoped, the stars would keep their tryst. Lantern -in hand, I crept up the rocks, and settled -myself once more on the peak. All my friendly -lights in the valley had gone out, and I was -now alone in the sky.</p> -<p>Paugus, Passaconaway, and Whiteface were -quite clearly outlined against each other and -the sky. They seemed very near, however, so -that it was easier for me to imagine myself on a -lonely rock in the ocean, with huge waves about -to overwhelm me, than to make those combing -waves stand back three, eight, twelve miles and -become spruce-covered mountains. Gradually -other mountain outlines became discernible, and -the cloud-curtain above showed folds and wrinkles, -which in time wore out under the moon’s -chafing and let through a glimpse of Mars or -Vega, marvelously far away in that serene ether. -Half an hour before midnight the pale disk of -the moon appeared through the thin clouds, and -at the witching hour she sailed out proudly into -a little space of clear blue-black heaven. The -wind came in fresher puffs, a snowy cloud-cap -<span class="pb" id="Page_76">76</span> -rested on the head of Paugus, and the air was -so much colder that I was glad to put on both -jersey and oilskin jacket. A dozen lakes and -twenty-five mountain peaks were visible at half -past twelve, and Mars had worked a place for -his red eye, so that it could look down through -the breaking clouds without interruption. -Drowsiness now overtook me, and in order to -keep awake I was forced to walk rapidly up and -down the small area of the top, or to jump -about over the ledges farther south. About -one o’clock a light flashed brightly from a point -near the Maine line; perhaps in Fryeburg. At -first I thought it might be a fire which would -gather strength and size; then, as it appeared -to move and come nearer, it looked more like -the headlight of a locomotive. My glass made -it seem smaller, and the motion was so slow and -irregular that I thought the gleam might be -from a doctor’s buggy, as the man of sickness -took his way through the night.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig8"> -<img src="images/p076.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="606" /> -<p class="pcap">THE PEAK FROM THE NORTH</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_77">77</div> -<p>My own light was now growing dim, so I -extinguished it in order to save the remaining -oil for emergencies. Immediately afterwards a -bat flew against the lantern, and then perched -upon a lichen-hung rock near by, to recover his -composure. The moon slowly made way with -the clouds, and by two o’clock a quarter part -of the sky was clear. The mercury had dropped -to 52°, and the moisture hurled against the -mountain by the wind was condensed and sent -boiling and seething up the sides of the peak. -Tongues of fog lapped around me with the same -spasmodic motion which flames display in rising -from a plate of burning alcohol. At first they -scarcely reached the peak; then they came to -my feet, and swept past me around both sides -of my platform; finally they flung themselves -higher and higher, hiding not only the black -valley from which they came, but Paugus and -more distant peaks, the sky, the moon, and the -glimmering stars. Suddenly from the fog-filled -air came once more the gruesome sound which -I had heard earlier in the night. Its cause was -nearer to me now, and I felt sure that it was -some creature of the air, and consequently nothing -which could cause me inconvenience. I -strained my eyes to see the creature as it passed, -but in vain, until in its flight it chanced to cross -the face of the moon. Then the mystery was -solved. I saw that it was either a night-hawk -or a bird of similar size. The speed at which -it was flying was wonderful. When it tacked -or veered, it produced the extraordinary sounds -which, with their echoes from the rocks, had so -puzzled me at first. Once or twice during the -night I had heard night-hawks squawking, and -from this time on their harsh voices were heard -<span class="pb" id="Page_78">78</span> -at intervals mingled with the booming which, -for some unexplained reason, they make by night -as well as by day; after as well as during the -breeding season.</p> -<p>A few minutes after two o’clock a large meteor -shot across a small patch of clear sky near -the constellation Andromeda, and was quenched -in the fog. From time to time other smaller -ones flashed in brief glory in the same quarter -of the heavens, and one brilliant fragment -burned its way past Jupiter, as though measuring -its passing glory with the light of the planet. -The wind was falling, the temperature rising, -and, following these two influences, the fog decreased, -until its only remnants clung to the -ponds and rivers far below. Two thirds of the -sky were clear by three o’clock. In the east, -the Pleiades sparkled in mysterious consultation; -farther north, Capella flashed her colored -lights, and Venus, radiant with a lustre second -only to Selene’s own, threw off the clouds which -for an hour had concealed her loveliness, and -claimed from Mars the foremost place in the -triumph of the night. Her reign was short. -At a quarter after three I noticed that the cloudbank -which lay along the eastern and northern -horizon was becoming more sharply defined by -the gradual growth of a white band above it. -A greater orb than Venus was undermining her -<span class="pb" id="Page_79">79</span> -power in the east. The white line imperceptibly -turned to a delicate green, and extended its -area to left and right and upward. The clouds -in the high sky took on harder outlines and -rounder shapes. Shadows were being cast -among them, and a light was stealing through -them from something brighter even than the -yellow moon. The pale green band had changed -to blue, the blue was deepening to violet, and -through this violet sky the brightest meteor of -the night passed slowly down until it met the -hills. High in the sky the stars were growing -dim, and the spaces between the clouds, which -looked for all the world like a badly painted -picture, were growing blue, deep real blue. The -line of brightest light above the eastern clouds -showed a margin of orange. Venus in the violet -sky was still dazzling, but her glory was no -longer of the night, but of the twilight. She -was wonderful, in spite of the stronger light -which was slowly overpowering her. Mars -burned like a red coal low down in the west, -unaffected thus far by the sun’s rays, while -Jupiter, supreme among the high stars, was -paling fast as the light of day rolled towards -him.</p> -<p>The eastern sky looked strangely flat. Its -colors were like a pastel drawing. Small, very -black clouds, with hard outlines, lay unrelieved -<span class="pb" id="Page_80">80</span> -against the violet, silver, and orange. A full -hour had sped by since I first noted the coming -of the day, and still the earth below slept on. -Hark! up from the deep valley below the Cow -comes a single bird-voice, but scarcely are its -notes sprinkled upon the cool, clear air, when a -dozen, yes, fifty singers join their voices in a -medley of morning music. The first songster -was a white-throat, and the bulk of the chorus -was made up of juncos and white-throats, the -stronger song of Swainson’s and hermit thrushes -coming in clearly now and then from points -more distant from the peak. There was ecstasy -in those matins. No sleepy choir of mortal -men or women ever raised such honest, buoyant -music in honor of the day’s coming. The birds -love the day, and they love life for all that each -day brings. They labor singing, and they sing -their vespers, as they sing their matins, with -hearts overflowing with joy and thanksgiving.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig9"> -<img src="images/p080.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="630" /> -<p class="pcap">VIEW FROM “THE COW,” SHOWING MOAT MOUNTAIN AND MOUNT PEQUAWKET BEYOND</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_81">81</div> -<p>There is something inexpressibly touching and -inspiring in the combination of fading night, -with its planets still glowing, and the bird’s -song of welcome to the day. Night is more -eloquent than day in telling of the wonders of -the vast creation. Day tells less of distance, -more of detail; less of peace, more of contest; -less of immortality, more of the perishable. The -sun, with its dazzling light and burning heat, -hides from us the stars, and those still depths -as yet without stars. It narrows our limit of -vision, and at the same time hurries us and -worries us with our own tasks which we will not -take cheerfully, and the tasks of others which -are done so ill. Night tells not only of repose -on earth, but of life in that far heaven where -every star is a thing of motion and a creation -full of mystery. Men who live only in great -cities may be pitied for being atheists, for they -see little beyond the impurity of man; but it -seems incredible that a being with thoughts -above appetite, and imagination above lust, -should live through a night in the wilderness, -with the stars to tell him of space, the dark -depths of the sky to tell him of infinity, and his -own mind to tell him of individuality, and yet -doubt that some Being more powerful and less -fickle than himself is in this universe. The -bird-music coming before the night is ended -combines the purest and most joyous element of -the day with the deep meaning of the night. -The birds bear witness to the ability of life to -love its surroundings and to be happy. The -night bears witness to the eternity of life and to -the harmony of its laws.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_82">82</div> -<h2 id="c6"><span class="small">BRINGING HOME THE BEAR.</span></h2> -<p>The horn of Chocorua rose into a sky full of -threatening colors and shadows. Its own coloring -was sinister, its outlines vague, its height -apparently greater than usual. Low, growling -thunder came from its ledges and ravines. The -forest at its feet, which ended at my door, was -silent; no whisper swept through its waiting -leaves. In the west as in the north, cloud -masses were boiling up into the sky, covering -the blue with white, gray, and black, through -which now and then shot a ray of gold from the -protesting sun. A tempest seemed brewing as -a not unwelcome close of a mid-August day.</p> -<p>A tall man emerged from the woods and came -striding towards me across the grass. A rifle -swung to and fro in his right hand as he walked. -It was a repeating rifle, one of those inclusive -successors of the fowling-piece, shot-pouch, -powder-flask, cap-box, and wad-pocket of this -tall man’s boyhood. The stride ended at my -side, and the tall man and I spoke of the heat, -the drought, and the approaching storm. Just -as he was preparing to lope onwards down the -ribbon road through the birches, I said:—</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_83">83</div> -<p>“I hear Merrill caught a bear Saturday, and -brought it out at Piper’s.”</p> -<p>“That so? How big was it?”</p> -<p>“A small one, a two-year-old, probably. It -was in one of his traps and he shot it.”</p> -<p>“Well, I’ve kept up with him this time. I -shot one less than an hour ago, and he warn’t -in any trap, either.”</p> -<p>I looked at the man wonderingly. There had -been no unusual spark in his eye, flush on his -bronzed cheek, or spring in his heavy step. He -had not boasted, or even spoken of his achievement -until I touched his pride by my tale of -his rival’s success. Would he have gone home -without telling me? I think so. Yet this -meeting with a bear, alone, on the high ledges -of Chocorua, had been one of the joys of this -man’s life. Many a weary hour had he carried -his magazine rifle over the ledges, treading -softly, keeping eye and ear alert, hoping to see -Bruin on his feeding-ground. A year before -he had trapped and killed some of the great -creatures; but shooting a beast caught in a -forty-pound steel trap is tame sport compared -with facing a free bear on the open ledges.</p> -<p>Before the hunter left me, we had arranged -that soon after sunrise on the following morning -he was to pass through my dooryard on his -way to the spot where, under those black clouds, -poor Bruin was lying dead.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_84">84</div> -<p>The rage around Chocorua deepened. Boom, -boom, of thunder rolled downward from the -heights of storm. The peak was swept by -masses of rain. Flash after flash lit up the -darkening sky behind the grim mountain. Still -the nearer forests lay at rest, waiting. Then a -golden rift came in the western cloud-bank. -One half of the storm rolled past us on the -south, drenching Ossipee and Wolfborough, the -other half on the north, soaking Conway and -Fryeburg; we alone were dry.</p> -<p>The morning of the 13th of August was -breathlessly hot. Even the hermit thrushes -forgot to sing. A rattle of wheels brought me -from breakfast to join the party organized to -bring home the bear. A strong, sure-footed -horse was drawing a farm wagon which had -been the stand-by of an earlier generation, and -which, therefore, was made of solid stuff. My -tall friend and two of his hunting satellites -were in it, and around them were strewn rifle, -hatchet, ropes, empty grain-bags, and other apparatus -to be used in bringing the dead brute -down the mountain. My master of the horse, -an alert and muscular Prince Edward Islander, -stood by ready to march, so the word was given, -and we five, some walking, some in the ancient -wagon, started for the mountain.</p> -<p>For a quarter of a mile the road was good, -<span class="pb" id="Page_85">85</span> -winding through my pasture and belts of white -birches. Then we turned from it and plowed -through beds of brake and blackberry bushes -dripping and glistening with dew. We might -as well have waded waist deep in the lake, -which would have been warmer though no more -wet than that dew-deluged tangle. Next came -a ravine filled with spruces, over which towered -two immense canoe birches, at whose feet a cold -spring bubbled in a sandy pool. The horse -wound in and out among the trees, shaking from -them showers of cold dew-drops. Small saplings -and bushes bowed before the wagon and -passed under its axles; large ones were bent -away by strong hands, or hacked down. Sometimes -the wheels locked against tree-trunks, -bringing the horse to a sudden standstill, and -almost throwing the passengers to the ground; -and sometimes they sank into unseen hollows -filled to the brim with ferns, making the wagon -careen so that all its contents slid, or struggled -not to slide, against its sinking side.</p> -<p>Beyond the ravine and its dripping spruces -was a narrow sunny valley pointing straight -towards the mountain. Up this valley our -party continued its course, the sun drying the -dew from our clothes, and flashing many colors -in the drops still clinging to brakes and grasses. -Fifteen hundred feet above us towered the West -<span class="pb" id="Page_86">86</span> -Ledges, on which the bear had been shot. As -one looks at Chocorua from the south, its peak -seems to rest upon the shoulders of two converging -ridges, one sloping upward towards it from -the southeast, and one from the southwest. Between -the two ridges the soft forest drapery of -the mountain falls in graceful folds and curves -to the level of the lake. We were in one of -these folds, climbing towards the steep inner -side of the western ridge. On each side of us -lofty trees clung to the slopes of the valley. -Owls hoot in these woods after twilight and at -dawn. Great boulders lie in confusion in the -perpetual shadows of the trees, and in the caverns -between and under them are dens of porcupines, -foxes, and skunks.</p> -<p>Not until we reached the torrent at the foot -of the west ridge was the wagon abandoned and -the horse tethered. The forest at this point -consists mainly of poplars, birches, and oaks. -The bear-slayer led the way through them, and -his more muscular satellite followed at his heels, -cutting saplings in order to form a path for -our descent with the bear. After climbing several -hundred feet, we rested. A loud humming -filled the air, yet no bees were to be seen. -They appeared to be in the higher foliage, attracted -by something on the leaves. We examined -the lower branches, and then the leaves -<span class="pb" id="Page_87">87</span> -of low shrubs and plants. They seemed to be -covered with dew, but the dew was sticky and -proved to be sweet to the taste. As we continued -our walk we found that the entire side of -the mountain had been sprinkled with heavenly -sweetness of the same kind.</p> -<p>The roar of bees had become familiar to our -ears. The bear-slayer was bending down a -slender beech for the satellite to cut, when suddenly -he uttered a cry and sprang backward. -“Run, run,” he shouted, and in a moment the -Islander and the small satellite were bounding -down the mountain-side like chamois. The -larger satellite became a football under the -bear-slayer’s feet, and I, hearing a second cry -of “hornets!” plunged headforemost into the -bushes and crawled away under the brakes, -thus avoiding both the hornets and the necessity -of re-climbing lost ground. The bear-slayer’s -retreat was marked by repeated howls of pain -which lent further speed to the flying heels of -the rear-guard. It was some time before the -ignominious stampede was checked and a fresh -ascent begun. The bear-slayer had been stung -in three places, and the larger satellite declared -he had saved himself from a sting by pulling -the hornet off his back with his fingers.</p> -<p>Standing among the young trees of the forest -were many gray stumps of ancient origin,—decayed -<span class="pb" id="Page_88">88</span> -relics of forest gentry now displaced -by the democracy of poplars and birches. -These stumps bore no axe marks; they had -fallen at the command of the tornado, not of -the lumber thief. On their sides were long -scratches which looked like claw marks. Had -“Sis Wildcat” been trying her claws there? -No; but “Brer Bar” had been. Near by was -a small grove of oaks, not one of which was -more than a foot in diameter. Their sides -were deeply scored by Bruin’s claws, and their -highest branches hung down upon the rest of -their limbs, broken and dying. There is -hardly an oak on Chocorua which has not been -climbed by bears in acorn time, and disfigured -by the great brutes in their attempts to reach -the coveted nuts.</p> -<p>Towering close above the oaks we could see -the abrupt faces of the West Ledges. We -seemed to be at the foot of a great feudal castle -whose gray walls needed scaling ladders to be -conquered. Ferns grew in the crevices in the -rock; tiny streams of water trickled down its -sides and fed mosses and lichens; honeysuckle, -mountain ash, wild Solomon’s seal, and striped -maple sprang in luxuriant tangles from its feet, -and tripped us as we skirted the castle’s base -and sought a break in its smooth walls. Presently -we found one,—a rift made originally by -<span class="pb" id="Page_89">89</span> -ice, but long since widened and deepened by -other erosive forces. Clinging to tree-trunks -or the tough stems of blueberry bushes, we -pulled ourselves up the steep ravine and reached -the top of the first ledge. The mountain was -still unconquered before us, but turning we saw, -sunlit and smiling, the world we had left. -Curving, undulating forest; warm spots of -open pasture; the Hammond farm, from which -one of the principal paths starts up Chocorua; -my own red-roofed cottage with squares of flax, -millet, corn, and buckwheat giving patchwork -colors to its clearing; Chocorua ponds and the -cottages on Nickerson’s hill, and then the -wider world of forest, mountain, river, and -lake,—Ossipee, Sandwich Dome, Bearcamp, -Winnepesaukee,—blended beauties whose -names awaken pleasant memories and whose -picture is a joy to look upon,—all these things -we saw, and much more which we only half -thought about, so eager were we to go on with -our quest.</p> -<p>Climbing ledge after ledge, wading through -thickets of mountain ash, dogwood, low spruce -and blueberry bushes, we gained at last the -highest open point on West Ridge. On three -sides the land fell away abruptly. On the -north the ridge, heavily grown with stunted -spruce and poplars, continued toward the peak. -<span class="pb" id="Page_90">90</span> -It did not go straight towards that proud rock, -but sought it by bending westward and then -northward in a great bow. The peak, consequently, -stood the other side of a vast hollow -filled with tangled forest. It was near, and yet -appeared unattainable. I thought of the winter -day when I had climbed to this point over four -feet of packed and frozen snow and seen the -Chocorua horn, crusted with ice and flanked -by mighty snowdrifts, hanging in the bright blue -sky. Then, stimulated by the keen air, I had -plunged into the hollow, crossed it, scaled its -farther side on hands and knees, gained the foot -of the peak, and finally won its slippery summit, -no larger than my dining table; and lying there -half freezing, had seen the snow-covered world -from Casco Bay to the Green Mountains; Monadnock -to Dixville Notch. The sun of August -did not encourage such exploits, and a dead bear -lying hidden near us drew our thoughts away -from the heights to the damp thicket close -below.</p> -<p>The bear-slayer was telling his story: “I was -coming along here, sort of softly, thinking it -was just the kind of place for a bear, when just -as I got to this open ledge I heard a hustling -round in that snarl of bushes. I stopped short -and listened and peeped in. There was something -black and hairy rubbing round in the -<span class="pb" id="Page_91">91</span> -blueberry bushes,—you can see how thick the -berries are in there. Well, I thought, I must be -careful; there are lots of folks berrying, and I -should hate to put one of these pills into a woman -picking blueberries. It would settle her -right off. So I peeked round, till I was dead -sure it was a bear, and then I let drive—at -what I could see. The ball hit him in his side -not far back of his shoulder, and he gave an -awful roar and started out this way. I climbed -up on this big boulder, five feet out of harm’s -way, and waited. He was letting out roars and -then drawing awful deep breaths. You could -hear those gasps a mile. I could not see him, -he was in so thick in the bushes. But then he -began to drag himself off towards old Coroway -and I started after him. I heard him go kerchunk -down this ledge, and then I caught sight -of his head and let him have another, and a -third ball, but they didn’t seem to stop him a -bit, just glanced off his skull, I s’pose. Well, -he got down ’most a hundred feet before I could -get a sight at his side again, but when I did, I -put one in where it stopped his gasping and -kicking.”</p> -<p>During this narrative we had followed the -hunter through the network of trees, bushes, -and brambles, tracing the track made by the -bear in his agony. Branches were broken, -<span class="pb" id="Page_92">92</span> -leaves crushed, moss stained, and rocks torn -up. As we descended the north slope towards -the dark ravine which the bear had sought, the -sunlight grew dim and the air cold. Suddenly -I saw the bear. At the foot of a slippery ledge, -over which hung dripping wet moss, lying upon -a deep bed of sphagnum, was a gaunt black -form. Dead and still as it was, it sent a thrill -through me. I seemed to see the being for -whom this wild region had been created. The -horn-blowing, pistol-firing, peanut-eating tourist -is out of place in the rugged ravines of Chocorua. -Even the bronzed, gray-shirted native -with his magazine rifle is not in tune with the -solemn music of this wilderness. But in the -dead creature on the moss I saw the real owner -of forest and ledge, mountain pool and hidden -lake. He looked weary and worn, as though -life had been full of hunger and terror. The -small, keen, wicked eyes were closed; the cruel -teeth were locked tight, the broad feet were cut -by his last struggles on the ledges, and his thin -hair, showing the hide below it, was flecked -with blood which had oozed from four bullet -wounds.</p> -<p>We five men gathered around the dead bear -and looked at him, felt of him, counted his -nails, tried to open his set jaws, guessed at his -weight, discussed his character, wondered at his -<span class="pb" id="Page_93">93</span> -ability to maintain life in such a region, and -marveled especially at the nature of his kind -to bring forth young in late winter and to rear -them in the chill and foodless months of February -and March. With great interest we -sought through his capacious stomach to see -what he had eaten, and found quarts of ripe -blueberries, scarlet cherries, and what we at -first took to be grubs dug from decaying -stumps. Closer examination showed that Bruin -had swallowed the whole of a hornet’s nest, for -the perfect insects, hundreds of their undeveloped -young in the brood-cells, and the gray, -papery nest were all recognized. This bear -certainly knew how to pick ripe blueberries and -not to pick green ones. I saw but one green -berry in the quarts which he had gathered.</p> -<p>Drawing the bear’s fore and hind feet on -each side together, the hunter strapped them -firmly. He next tied the head to the feet, so -that it should not drag, and then passed two -maple poles through the loops made by the two -pairs of lashed feet, and called upon the larger -satellite and the Islander to shoulder their burden. -They did so, and the homeward march -began, the bearers groaning. Possibly a hundred -yards had been traversed before the Islander -tripped and fell, pulling the bear down -upon his prostrate form, and receiving also the -<span class="pb" id="Page_94">94</span> -weight of the heavy satellite. The hunter took -his place under the poles, and fifty yards more -were gained. Then the hunter, with a resounding -exclamation, flung down the poles and -whipped out his hunting-knife. With difficulty -he was dissuaded from skinning and quartering -Bruin on the spot. The plan which induced -him to stay his hand was suggested by one of -the party who had read of what he called an -“Indian wagon.” Under his direction two long -poles were cut and the bear was lashed on top -of them near their heavy ends. The satellites -then stood between the light ends, as horses -stand between the shafts, and began dragging -the bear down the steep side of the mountain. -They had not gone fifty feet before the weight -of the bear turned the poles over and left the -satellites sprawling in the bushes. Once more -knives were drawn and skinning threatened.</p> -<p>The next proposal was to wrap Bruin in grain -bags so as to protect his skin, and then to drag -and roll him down to where traveling would be -easier. The bear slayer consented to try this -experiment, and two large short bags were drawn -over the body, one from its head, the other from -its tail. Other bags were laid under the body, -and, thus protected, it was dragged, bumping -and rolling, down several hundred yards to the -foot of the ledges. Short cross-sticks were then -<span class="pb" id="Page_95">95</span> -inserted in the lashings, which were tied round -the bear’s legs, and four of us, two on each side, -or two in front and two behind, raised the body -by these sticks and bore it through the winding -path we had cleared while ascending. The -lesser satellite, carrying the rifle, hatchet, and -other luggage, brought up the rear, and urged -on the party by jeering remarks and snatches of -song. In spite of repeated cautions from the -bear-slayer, whose stings still smarted, we narrowly -escaped walking into the hornet’s nest a -second time.</p> -<p>More than six hours had elapsed since our -departure from home when our little procession -wound out of the woods into my dooryard. -Raspberry vinegar never was more gratefully -swallowed, and never was dead emperor received -with more respect than poor Bruin by the -crowds which flocked to view his remains during -the afternoon of that hot August day. One -bought his nails, another his teeth, a third his -thinly haired skin, while pieces of his flesh, -prepared for future cooking, were carried away -in various directions. As when sugar is spilled -upon the ground, ants come from every quarter -to gather up the grains and draw them away, -so dead Bruin drew gossips and idlers from all -parts of the town, eager to pick up bits of his -body or stories of his melancholy end.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_96">96</div> -<h2 id="c7"><span class="small">THE DEAD TREE’S DAY.</span></h2> -<p>It is the theory that there are always plenty -of hens to be bought in a New England farming -town; but as a matter of fact, in the month -of July, 1892, the country north of Bearcamp -presented such a dearth of hens that, after -traveling miles in my efforts to buy some, I returned -to my own neighborhood and hired a -contingent for the season. The transaction -was unique, but, on the whole, mutually satisfactory. -It had one drawback. When one -owns fowls, the accumulation of family wrath -against the rooster on account of too early crowing -on his part always finds relief in eating -him; but when one hires a rooster, his life is -charmed by contract, and he can with impunity -crow the family into nervous prostration. -The magnificent Black Spanish cock hired by -me began crowing, on the morning of August -21, at twenty minutes of four. Not a ray of -daylight pierced the bank of mist which filled -the east. Nothing but instinct or a bad conscience -could have told Murillo that it was time -to crow. Nevertheless, on this occasion his -<span class="pb" id="Page_97">97</span> -song was welcome, for I had counted upon his -arousing me early in order that I might spend -an entire day with the Dead Tree.</p> -<p>On the northern shore of Chocorua Lake a -broad reach of swampy woodland is broken by -a meadow. At the point where the small and -very cool brook which bounds the meadow on -the west enters the lake, a tall pine once cast -its shadow upon a deep pool at its foot. The -pine died many years ago, and its bark has -been entirely removed by weather and woodpeckers, -leaving its trunk and eighty-seven -branches, or stumps of branches, as white as -bleached bones. A few rods farther from the -mouth of the brook stands a smaller pine of -similar character. These two trees form a -famous bird roost, and at their feet I planned -to stay from sunrise to sunset on this August -day, in order to see, during consecutive hours, -how many birds would make use of the tree as -a perch. From frequent visits during this and -earlier years, I knew that the tree was not only -a rendezvous for the birds living in the meadow -and adjoining woods, but also a <i>kursaal</i> for -tourists in feathers, and for all birds coming to -the lake to hunt or to fish.</p> -<p>As I left the house, hermit thrushes were -uttering the short complaining notes of alarm -characteristic of them at twilight. Dark as it -<span class="pb" id="Page_98">98</span> -was, they were awake and stirring. Reaching -the bank of the lake a minute or two after four, -I startled a spotted sandpiper from the beach, -and heard his peeping whistle as he flew from -me across the black water, beyond which only -dusky masses of gloom marked the pine woods -on the farther shore. The surface of the water -was disturbed by thousands of insects cutting -queer figures upon it. Where they moved, -white ripples followed. As I walked along the -moist sand of the beach, pickerel shot out from -the shore, bats squeaked, and frogs jumped into -deeper water with nervous croaks of fear. -Then a whippoorwill sang, and as his weird -notes echoed from the woods, Venus sailed clear -from the mist bank and reflected her dazzling -beauty in the lake. As I drew near the mouth -of the brook, a solitary tattler ran along the -sand in front of me, whistling softly. When I -turned into the bushes, he stopped and resumed -his search for breakfast.</p> -<p>The dead tree rose above me, jet black -against the dark sky. Stepping softly through -the bushes, I disturbed the wary catbirds, and -their fretful cries awoke the meadow. At -twenty minutes past four, three whippoorwills -were singing, and two catbirds, with several -hermit thrushes, were complaining. A few moments -later, the call of a veery was heard, a -song sparrow gave a sharp squeak, and then, -so still was the air, I heard the heavy stamping -of my horse in his stable, a quarter of a mile -away, as he gained his feet after a long night’s -rest. The stars were growing paler moment -by moment, and outlines becoming sharper in -the bushes and trees near me. A Swainson’s -thrush uttered its clear “<i>quick</i>,” expressive of -much more vigilance than the cries of the veery -and the hermit, yet less fault-finding than the -mew of the catbird.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig10"> -<img src="images/p098.jpg" alt="" width="645" height="1000" /> -<p class="pcap">THE DEAD TREE</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_99">99</div> -<p>I settled myself comfortably amid the bushes -eastward of the dead trees, near enough to them -to see even a humming-bird if one alighted on -the bare branches. At 4.35 I had heard eight -kinds of birds, yet the crows, notorious for -early rising, had not spoken. A minute later -one cawed sleepily among the eastern pines -where the mist lay thickest, and soon a dozen -voices responded. Dense as was the fog, the -light of day made swift inroads upon the shadows, -and when, about quarter to five, a young -chestnut-sided warbler came out of a dewy bush -near me, its colors were plainly distinguishable. -The little bird looked sleepy and dull. It -moved languidly, and so did three Maryland -yellow-throats which appeared from the same -clump of thick bushes a moment later. As yet -no bird of the day had sung.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_100">100</div> -<p>Far away in the swampy woods to the north -a big red-shouldered hawk cried “<i>ky-e, ky-e, -ky-e</i>.” I remembered the morning, just a year -previous, when, sitting in about the same spot, -with Puffy perched on a dead limb over my -head, a red-shouldered hawk had flown with -stately wing-beat to one of the lower branches -of the dead tree, and then, suddenly discovering -the owl, had thrust its head forward, opened -wide its beak, and, with its fierce eyes glaring, -had shrieked its hatred at the almost unmoved -owl. This morning it did not visit the meadow, -probably finding its humble game nearer home.</p> -<p>The first bird to appear flying above the level -of the meadow was a graceful night-hawk. -Perhaps he had just come down from a night’s -revel in the cool air over Chocorua’s summit. -I wondered whether he had been one of a company -of between two and three hundred of his -tribe which deployed across the sky on the afternoon -of the 19th, just in advance of a violent -thunderstorm. Yearly, about the 20th of August, -the night-hawks muster their forces and -parade during one or two afternoons. Yet -there seems to be no diminution in the number -of the local birds after the army disappears. -Perhaps it is formed of migrants from the -north; or perhaps the display is, after all, only -a drill, preparatory to a later flight.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_101">101</div> -<p>The Maryland yellow-throats, in moving -about the bushes, discovered me, and began -scolding at my intrusion. They came so near -to me that they seemed within reach of my -hands. I kept perfectly still, and half closed -my eyes. Their inspection seemed to convince -them that I was harmless, for they went away, -and presently the male sang his “<i>rig-a-jig, rig-a-jig, -rig-a-jig</i>,” close behind me. I am convinced -that closing the eyes does a great deal -to reassure a timid bird. Owls entirely cloak -their evil appearance by simply drawing their -eyelids down, and closing their feathers tightly -about them. On discovering a man, birds -watch, not his legs or his body, but his face, and -his eyes are the most conspicuous part of his -face and fullest of menace. I have sometimes -fancied that nervous birds knew when they were -watched, even though they could not see the -observer.</p> -<p>At 4.48 a kingbird came sailing and fluttering -over the meadow, its chattering cries giving -ample warning of its approach. It lighted in -the big tree, and scanned sky, water, and grass, -searching for something with which to quarrel. -A flicker passed silently, coming, as the kingbird -had, from the woods, and going to a tree -near the lake shore. Small birds, possibly warblers, -flew by, westward. A blue jay screamed -<span class="pb" id="Page_102">102</span> -harshly in the edge of the woods, but the fog, -which was growing more and more dense upon -the meadow, discouraged its coming to the dead -trees. Just at five o’clock a goldfinch undulated -past, and the noisy rattle of a kingfisher echoed -along the edge of the pond, provoking answers -from a red squirrel, whose chatter seemed an -imitation of the call, and from a crow, whose -mimicry of the fisher’s rattle was remarkably -good. Probably all bird-calls originated in the -efforts of their makers to reproduce sounds which -pleased or startled them. In this case, Chickaree -and Corvus had no sober motive for replying to -the kingfisher; they may neither of them have -associated the rattle with the blue projectile -which made it. Both were entertained or attracted -by the sound, and each in its way tried -to reproduce it. It is by a similar process, -doubtless, that parrots, crows, and blue jays -acquire the power of producing sounds which -correspond to our words. Later, they may gain, -through experience, a knowledge of the meaning -or force of such words, but often no such knowledge -lies behind the empty iteration of the -parrot.</p> -<p>For nearly a quarter of an hour there seemed -to be a lull in the process of bird-awakening. -The Maryland yellow-throats were moving, and -now and then the male sang a little. Crows -<span class="pb" id="Page_103">103</span> -called in the distance, and the catbirds moved -restlessly about from one part of the meadow -to another, mewing, but nothing new appeared -under the fog mantle. The spell was broken -by the appearance of one of the small tyrant -flycatchers, which are so difficult to identify -during the migrations unless they are killed and -closely examined. This one seemed to me to be -a least flycatcher (<i>Empidonax minimus</i>), there -being almost no trace of yellow in his coloring. -He flew from point to point, in or just over the -bushes, catching small insects with vicious snaps -of his beak. Apparently it was necessary, for -the proper working of his machinery, to have -his tail jerk spitefully several times a minute.</p> -<p>About half past five three crows came to the -big tree. One of them sailed softly by, but the -other two alighted and began cawing in a fretful -way. They were bedraggled with fog and -dew, and their tones told of hunger and discomfort. -When they spoke, they thrust their heads -far forward, giving them a low, mean air. They -pulled viciously at their moist clothing, all the -while keeping the keenest watch of their surroundings -and the distance. Suddenly one of -them saw me, and with a low croak flew away, -his mate following. Again silence and fog prevailed. -A cedar-bird, alighting on the tip of -the old tree, seemed to shiver. He remained -<span class="pb" id="Page_104">104</span> -in the dim upper air but a moment, taking a -headlong plunge into the shrubbery below. I -thought even the frogs resented the slow-moving -vapors, for they croaked and splashed restlessly.</p> -<p>A red-eyed vireo began his sermon at 6.10, -and soon after, blue sky and scattering rays -of sunlight appeared. Then the birds became -more cheerful, and catbirds, crows, kingbirds, -Maryland yellow-throats, and song sparrows -vied with each other in activity and noise. -Every one of them was intent upon making -a good breakfast. The catbirds ate viburnum -berries; the crows marched upon the lake sand, -searching for the waste of the waves; a barn -swallow, the kingbirds, and several smaller flycatchers -hovered or darted in pursuit of insects, -and the sparrows gathered their harvest from -the earth. Then a flicker appeared in the top -of the old tree, and, finding a resonant spot in -the trunk, beat his reveille softly upon it. My -neck fairly ached when I tried to imagine the -mental and muscular effort required of the bird -to produce such regular and rapid action with -his beak. The only way in which a man can -make as many beats to the minute with any -regularity is by allowing his hand to rest in such -a position that it will tremble. Then, by grasping -a pencil and resting its tip upon a board, a -<span class="pb" id="Page_105">105</span> -sound somewhat similar to the rolling reverberation -of the woodpecker’s drumming can be -produced.</p> -<p>At half past six an olive-sided flycatcher -came to the pine, but on seeing the kingbird disappeared. -A moment later the kingbird flew -away, and the olive-sided at once returned to -the highest branch of the tree, and made it his -point of rest during a long series of sallies after -insects. When he caught one of large size, he -brought it back to his perch, and pounded it -violently against the branch until its struggles -ceased, and its harder portions were, presumably, -reduced to a jelly. The kingbirds really -have more right than any of the migrants to use -the old tree, for they have built, year after year, -time out of mind, in the spreading branches of -the nearest living pine overhanging the lake. -As August advances, however, they wander a -good deal, paying visits to my orchard and other -good feeding-grounds near the lake. While -they are away, wood pewees and phœbes, olive-sided -and least flycatchers, visit the vicinity, and -enjoy the great tree and the fine chances which -it offers of seeing insects over both land and -water. About quarter to seven a solitary sandpiper -flew swiftly over the meadow, calling. It -made two great circles, rising above the trees, -and then flew westward so fast that I looked to -<span class="pb" id="Page_106">106</span> -discover a pursuer, but could discern none. In -the high woods, over which it flew, the crows -were chortling. Northward the peak was clear, -although below it a long scarf of mist trailed -over the forest, moving westward. In the tree-top -the flicker “flickered,” and then drummed; -called again, and drummed more emphatically. -Soon a second woodpecker appeared, but flew -by into the woods. The first one watched him, -and then drummed again, whereupon the new-comer -flew to him, and an animated dialogue -took place, the second bird apparently having -much to say in an excited manner. After they -had finished their conference, the second bird -flew away, and the first relapsed into a reverie. -It lasted only a few moments, for shortly before -seven o’clock two crows flew into the two dead -trees, and the woodpecker hurried away. Each -crow took the topmost perch on his tree, and -began his toilet. Just then a frog jumped with -a splash into the pool in front of me, and the -crows, hearing the noise, looked searchingly -down, saw me, and flew off without a caw.</p> -<p>For several years the morning of the 21st of -August has been my time for first seeing Wilson’s -blackcap warblers on their autumn journey -southward. Having been in the swamp -three hours without seeing one, I began to -think that, 1892 being leap year, the pretty -<span class="pb" id="Page_107">107</span> -migrants might not keep their tryst; but I -wronged them, for just at seven o’clock I heard -a sharp “<i>cheep</i>” behind me, and, turning slowly, -found a blackcap gazing at me nervously. No -sooner had my eyes met his than he darted away.</p> -<p>Between seven and eight the trees were occupied -by a flock of twelve cedar-birds, one or -two flickers, several young robins, a pewee, a -humming-bird, and some of the small flycatchers. -The humming-bird is a tyrannical and -blustering little bird, giving himself many airs. -His wife is quite as much of a virago as he is -of a bully. In this instance she was determined -to drive away the flycatchers. Sitting in the -big tree, and looking smaller than a well-fed -dragonfly, she darted, every now and then, at -one of the chebecs, and put him to flight. They -tired her out, however, and after a while she -gave up the struggle and departed. About -7.30 a flock of small birds, including several -chickadees, appeared in the edge of the woods -and scattered over the meadow. Few of them -came near enough to me for identification, but -there seemed to be vireos and warblers among -them. Their coming aroused other birds, and -a goldfinch, a catbird chasing a veery, one or -two Maryland yellow-throats, and a swift were -in sight at one time.</p> -<p>Thirst overtook me at eight, after four hours -<span class="pb" id="Page_108">108</span> -of watching, and I crept softly down to the -brook. Before I had gone a dozen steps, a huge -bird sprang from the sedgy growth by the lake -shore and rose into the air. It was a blue -heron which had been patrolling the sand within -forty feet of me. He flew along the shore for -some distance, then rose and passed over the -trees towards the north, seeking, no doubt, my -lonely lake, half a mile away in the forest. -One morning, when hidden in the alders and -viburnums which grow at the very foot of the -big tree, I heard a queer guttural call or grunt -from the meadow, and the next moment the -heron stood above me, on the lowest limb of the -pine. He looked sharply over the meadow and -the lake, stretched first one leg, then the other, -then each wing in turn, and finally fell to preening -his blue and gray plumes. Against a pale -blue sky or ruffled water which mingles blue -and gray with bits of white, he is marvelously -well protected by his coloring. No wonder that -the poor frogs fall a prey to his patient spearing. -I kept breathlessly still, and watched this -largest of our Chocorua birds. It seemed odd -that the old tree should be a perch for him and -for the humming-bird. The hummer is three -and a quarter inches long; the heron spreads -six feet with his great wings when he flies, and -measures over four feet when standing. After -<span class="pb" id="Page_109">109</span> -a while I grew weary of watching the heron, and -of wondering at his macaroni-like legs and his -strangely concentrated stare, which now and -then fixed itself on my hiding-place, so I whistled -softly. The heron paused in his feather-combing -and looked towards me. There was no -fear in his glance, only mild interest. I sang, -first sad music, then “Nancy Lee,” “Pinafore,” -“Hold the Fort,” everything I could think of, -in fact, which might prompt him to action; but -he only stared, now over his beak, then under -it. The latter method of ogling was very effective, -for the long bill was contemplating the -skies, while the cold, calculating eyes stood out -each side of its base and glared down across it -until I seemed to feel their clamminess. From -music I turned to animal language, and barked, -mewed, mooed, brayed, whinnied, quacked, -crowed, cackled, peeped, hooted, and cawed, -until my throat was raw. He was clearly entertained, -and showed no desire to leave me. -At last I came down to plain English, supposing -that my voice undisguised by song would -certainly alarm him, but to my great surprise -he apparently did not associate the human voice -with its owner in the slightest degree. In fact, -he now seemed bored by my noise, and went on -with his preening. Suddenly, in moving my -foot, I snapped a small twig. Before there -<span class="pb" id="Page_110">110</span> -seemed to have been time for the sound to reach -his brain, the heron was on the wing, and I saw -him no more that day.</p> -<p>At 8.30, as I was watching the big tree, a -large, light-colored bird passed close to its trunk -and plunged downward towards the deep pool -at its foot. The sound of splashing water was -followed by utter silence. After remaining motionless -for several minutes I crawled carefully -towards the bank of the brook. The bushes -were thick, and small dry twigs covered the -ground. Their snapping could not be avoided, -and just before I reached a point where I could -see the water and the narrow strip of muddy -beach, a heavy bird rose with a great beating -of wings and flew up-stream. I broke through -the cover, headlong, but the bird was out of -sight. The surface of the stream was covered -with small, soft feathers, which I gathered together -and dried. They appeared to be from -the breast of a sandpiper. Who the murderer -was will never be known, though I presume that -it was a Cooper’s hawk.</p> -<p>My glimpse of this hawk, if such it was, reminded -me of an encounter between a sharp-shinned -hawk and a flock of blue jays which I -had seen at the tree the week previous. The -hawk arrived when several flickers were in the -tree and hurled himself upon them. They fled, -<span class="pb" id="Page_111">111</span> -calling wildly, and brought to their aid, first a -kingbird, which promptly attacked the hawk -from above, and then a flock of blue jays, which -abused him from cover below. When the kingbird -flew away, as he did after driving the -hawk into the bushes for a few moments, the -jays grew more and more daring in approaching -the hawk. In fact they set themselves to the -task of tiring him out and making him ridiculous. -They ran great risks in doing it, frequently -flying almost into the hawk’s face; but -they persevered, in spite of his ferocious attempts -to strike them. After nearly an hour -the hawk grew weary and edged off to the woods. -Then the jays went up the tree as though it -were a circular staircase, and yelled the news -of the victory to the swamp.</p> -<p>As the forenoon passed slowly by, there were -periods when the tree was empty for ten minutes -or more at a time, but generally a flicker, -cedar-bird, olive-sided flycatcher, blue jay, -crow, or catbird was to be seen perched in -some part of the great skeleton. At ten o’clock -I shifted my place to avoid the heat of the sun, -and to keep its light behind me. My new seat -was in the heart of a tangle of bushes, and as -I looked through the network of their stems I -suddenly saw a bird’s head, motionless. My -glass aided me in recognizing the little creature -<span class="pb" id="Page_112">112</span> -as a red-eyed vireo sitting upon a twig. Close -by it was a second vireo also perfectly passive. -I watched them for a long time, and could see -nothing but their eyes move. It is such moods -as this, taking possession of birds, which make -some parts of the day silent, and cause the -woods to seem deserted by all their feathered -tenants. Another occupant of the thicket was -a yellow-bellied flycatcher, whose activity in the -pursuit of small insects was tireless. He certainly -found enough to eat, for small insects -have been unusually abundant this summer, -while birds have been noticeably scarce near -Chocorua. Some species, usually well represented, -have seemingly vanished, and others, -quite numerous in average years, have been -very sparingly represented. For instance, the -summer has passed without my seeing either an -oriole or a winter wren, while redstarts and -chestnut-sided warblers, usually among the -most numerous species, have been represented -by a mere handful of birds. The supposed local -causes of this dearth of small birds are a heavy -snowfall, which occurred the last week in May, -and a hailstorm, which did great damage just -in the middle of the nesting period. Unusual -numbers of birds are said to have been killed -by spring storms in the Gulf States before the -year’s migration really began.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_113">113</div> -<p>At eleven o’clock a flock of small birds moved -rapidly across the meadow, and four of the number -passed through my covert. They were a -chickadee and three Wilson’s blackcaps. I -wish the latter bird lived here in the breeding -season, for it is a pretty, confiding, gentle little -creature. The departure of these birds was hastened -by the appearance on the lake shore of a -young man, a boy, and a dog. The man carried -a gun, and the dog rushed about in an excited -way, doing his best in cur fashion to aid -in the hunt. When the trio reached the brook -at the point where it debouched upon the lake -sand, the man cursed the stream for its width, -and the boy, in a loud nasal voice, followed his -example. They stood upon the farther side for -several minutes pouring out blasphemy and filth -until a sandpiper attracted their attention and -their gun spoke sharply. The bird escaped, -perhaps to die in the meadow grass, and again -the two intelligent human beings invoked wrath -upon the bird, the stream, the meadow, the dog, -and the gun. Then they crossed the brook -higher up, where it was narrower, and distance -covered their conversation with a welcome veil. -As long as the pleasant memories of that quiet -day linger in my mind, so long will there be -drawn through them a black line of disgust at -the vileness of the two representatives of my -<span class="pb" id="Page_114">114</span> -own species who offered such a contrast to the -purity of nature.</p> -<p>From eleven until one o’clock there was almost -unbroken stillness near the great tree. Now -and then some one of the regular residents of -the meadow spoke, a dragonfly buzzed past, a -small pickerel stirred in the brook, or a frog -said “<i>wurro, wurroùh</i>,” and splashed in the still -water among the reeds. The kingbirds broke -the monotony by coming, three strong, with -much noise and fluttering to take possession of -the tree. One of them flew to the sand by the -lake ripples and drank. Then all three came -upon the lowest branches of the big tree and -looked at the dark pool below. One flew -obliquely against the water, striking it and -dashing a thousand bright drops into the air. -He rose chattering and returned to his perch, -shaking himself. I thought he had aimed for a -fly and struck the water unintentionally, but -down he went again, making even more of a -splash than before, and presently both the others -followed his example at such frequent intervals -that the pool had no time to smooth its -ripples. This odd kind of bathing was continued -for ten minutes, during which time a catbird -sneaked down upon the sand and watched -the process silently but with evident interest. -Later he saw me sitting motionless under the -<span class="pb" id="Page_115">115</span> -bushes, and flew directly at me, turning sharply -just before reaching my head, and making a -loud noise both by striking his wings against -branches and by his harsh voice. If his purpose -was to startle me he certainly succeeded.</p> -<p>The afternoon was clear, still, and warm, and -the birds were evidently drowsy. From two -until after four nothing perched in the tree. A -sandpiper amused me by his patient search for -food, as he waded back and forth on the mud -over which the brook spread as it entered the -lake. For an hour he confined himself to a -space less than six feet square and worked over -almost every inch of it. Much of the time he -merely prodded the mud gently with his long, -quill-like bill, but occasionally he seemed to see -something squirm, and then he pursued it -quickly and stabbed more vigorously. Much -of the time the water was above his knees, and -sometimes he ran into deeper places, so that it -lapped upon his breast. Twice he plunged his -head and neck entirely under water, but his -eyes seemed to need no wiping when they -emerged as wide open as before. Sometimes he -crossed his legs and stood like a camp-stool, -with his thin props meeting their equally straw-like -reflections in the brook. After a while a -second sandpiper appeared, but his method was -to travel rapidly along the water line, and he -was soon out of sight.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_116">116</div> -<p>It was not until nearly six o’clock that the -tree became really populous again. Then the -catbirds went upstairs on its branches, flickers -and kingbirds occupied its top; a humming-bird -buzzed in the face of a pewee who was perched -fully thirty feet from the ground; a sapsucking -woodpecker came and drummed for a moment, -and finally a flock of cedar-birds rested in it for -a while as they had in the morning. The sun set -and night breathed upon the meadow. A single -cedar-bird remained in the tip of the tree and -drearily repeated his one dismal word. Below -in the shadows the catbirds were restlessly -mewing, and as it grew dark the lament of the -hermits joined in the gloomy chorus. The sky -was fair, and rosy lights flowed and ebbed in -the clouds. The stars came, and in the distant -pines a barred owl sounded his long trumpet -note. A few minutes after seven, when catbirds -and hermits were silent for the night, I -heard a solitary sandpiper whistling at the -mouth of the brook. My glass brought his tiny -form to view, and as I watched him, a second -tattler ran along the gleaming sand and the -whistling ceased. Suddenly they flew together -as though startled, and the next moment I saw -what I had supposed to be a bunch of pickerel-weed -growing in the shallows move slowly eastward. -The object was several rods from the -<span class="pb" id="Page_117">117</span> -shore, and moving across the mouth of the -brook. Now it glided a few inches, then it -paused. Ten minutes passed before it progressed -as many yards. It was the heron’s -ghostly form. When he reached the eastern -shore a light flashed across the lake and a voice -sounded. He flew. I rose to go, but as I -crept out upon the sand I turned to take a last -look at the tree, and saw there the heron, standing -on a high limb, black against the sky.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_118">118</div> -<h2 id="c8"><span class="small">MIGRATION.</span></h2> -<div class="verse"> -<p class="t0">For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,</p> -</div> -<div class="verse"> -<p class="lc"><span class="gs">· · · · · · ·</span></p> -</div> -<div class="verse"> -<p class="t0">Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,</p> -<p class="t0">And flowers put on a fairer hue,</p> -<p class="t0">And everything was strange and new.</p> -</div> -<p>The quaint story of Noah’s gathering the -animals into the ark is always linked in my -mind with the Pied Piper, and with that strange -turn in the tide of bird life which is called migration. -The marvelous music which charmed -the rats and children of Hamelin town must -have been used by Noah to call his creatures -into the ark of safety, and it is still to be heard -in the winds of autumn sighing through the -Chocorua forests and calling the birds away to -other lands. One day all is calm and serene; -the next, though the sky is just as blue and the -sunlight just as warm, something of unrest is in -the air, and the birds are telling each other the -story of the great journey. Songs are forgotten -or sung only to greet the dawn and bless the -night; nestlings are trained to flight and led -silent journeys through field, forest, or ether -after food; new scenes are visited, and the weak -separated from the strong and left to die. Then, -sometimes by day, sometimes by night, the hosts -meet, drawn together by a force as irresistible -and mysterious as magnetism, and finally the -story of the great journey is written in fact once -more.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig11"> -<img src="images/p118.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="649" /> -<p class="pcap">MOUNT CHOCORUA AND CHOCORUA LAKE IN SUMMER</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_119">119</div> -<p>In the August mornings I hear the Swainson’s -thrush by the lake. He was not there a few -days before, he was on the mountain-side. He -is drifting southward, slowly at first, but feeling -the thrill of the Pied Piper’s music in his wings. -All through the summer I have listened in vain -for the nasal “<i>quank, quank, quank</i>,” of the red -nuthatch. Suddenly, in mid-August, I hear it -on the mountain, and an hour or two later every -flock of chickadees brings the northern migrant’s -call along with the jolly chorus of “<i>dee, dee, -dee</i>.” These chickadees, alert, courageous, tireless, -and generous, are the convoys of the warbler -fleets. For an hour the silence of the forest -will be broken only by the tiresome platitudes -of the red-eyed vireo, the dry staccato of the -harvest-fly, and the occasional whistle of a hyla. -Then, far away, will be heard the faint “<i>dee-dee</i>” -of the titmouse. It comes nearer, and presently -a dozen or twenty little birds are seen hovering, -darting, flitting, but steadily advancing, tree by -tree, through the woods. Perhaps not more than -one in ten will be a chickadee, yet it is the chickadee -<span class="pb" id="Page_120">120</span> -which gives character and direction to the -body. The guided flock of easy-going warblers -and vireos, nuthatches and kinglets, drift on, -feeding and frolicking, heedless of what it -passes.</p> -<p>If the observer “squeaks,” or if an owl draws -the attention of the passing birds, the chickadee -comes to the front at once, with his sharp reproving -iterations, and his beady eyes snapping -indignantly. Along with him come red-eyed -and solitary vireos, nuthatches, golden-crested -kinglets, black-throated blue warblers, Wilson’s -blackcaps, young chestnut-sided warblers, looking -puzzlingly unlike their parents. Blackburnians, -with throats aflame; black-throated -greens, rich in spring tints of yellow and tender -green; black and white creepers, the tidiest -of birds; the gay magnolias, redstarts, Canadians, -and sober myrtle warblers. Sometimes -a single flock contains nearly all of these courtiers -of the woods, while others are composed -almost entirely of a single species, as, for example, -the black-throated greens, or the magnolias.</p> -<p>In these same late August and early September -days the cherry and berry eaters gather -together and travel in flocks. Robins by scores, -sometimes by hundreds, combine with the cedar-birds -and flickers and range over the country in -<span class="pb" id="Page_121">121</span> -search of food. The flickers feed much of the -time upon the ground among the berry-bushes, -casting aside woodpecker habits and seeming -more like starlings. The robins are sometimes -with them upon the ground, but oftener in the -wild cherry-trees with the cedar-birds, stripping -bough after bough of its dark fruit. When the -flock moves, the cedar-birds mass themselves -and fly for a while as though linked together. -Then, without apparent cause, part or the whole -turn about and fly first this way, then that, perhaps -coming back, after a few minutes, to the -point of departure. When a flock of red crossbills -do this, they sprinkle the air and the earth -with sweet notes; but the cedar-birds have no -joy in their one chilly whistle, and there is more -of aimless, witless indecision in their flights -than there is of romping. Whenever I come -near one of their flocks, I scan them carefully, -hoping to detect the white wing-bars of a Bohemian -waxwing among them, yet it is more -than likely that I may watch a lifetime without -having the fortune to see in the flesh one of -those rare vagabonds of the north. The roving -habits of these birds and of the crossbills contrast -strangely with the simple steadfastness of -the grouse, and the clock-like punctuality of -many of the migrants. Something in that cold -past with its glaciers and ice-crushed continents -<span class="pb" id="Page_122">122</span> -could explain the present temperaments of the -wandering birds, but we may never know what -that something is. Whether we are to know it -or not, it is natural to have a feeling akin to -pity for birds so lacking in home life.</p> -<p>The winter wren is an amusing little migrant. -He seems to have an underground railway of his -own from the grim northern forest straight towards -a milder clime. Like other underground -ways, it has breathing holes, and out of these -he occasionally pops his head and sputters at -the observer. Sometimes he appears at an -opening in a stone wall and scolds mankind for -picking blackberries or plucking goldenrod; -again he emerges from the darkness beneath a -log in the swamp, and bustles about with the -offensive energy of a special policeman. If he -travels in company, the fact is not often made -evident. He certainly seems too crusty for -pleasant companionship on a long journey. -One late September morning a winter wren flew -into my hen-house and became my prisoner for -a few hours. I placed him in a room and -watched his efforts to escape. He flew with -such speed that he made almost as much of a -humming as a humming-bird. He clung to the -woodwork, and hid in the curtains, but finally -dropped to the floor and ran about like a mouse, -hiding in corners or behind the legs of chairs. -<span class="pb" id="Page_123">123</span> -Once or twice I caught him and stroked his -head and neck. He was quiet enough while I -touched him, but the moment my fingers left -him, he slipped away out of sight. When -taken out of doors and set free, he darted into -the nearest stone wall and was seen no more.</p> -<p>Birds of the upper air which feed on insects -depart early. The eaves swallows and martins -go while some mothers are still sitting on belated -eggs. Bank swallows, barn swallows, -night-hawks, and many of the tyrant flycatchers -have vanished by the time the maples begin to -flame upon the mountain-side. On the 3d of -August, 1891, I saw about twenty martins in -the dead tree. They were very noisy, and -evidently excited. While watching them I saw -in the zenith what looked like a cloud of insects. -My glass showed it to be a large flock of birds, -apparently swallows, moving in a great circle. -After a time all but one of the martins in the -tree flew away and were gone many minutes, -the birds in the sky also disappearing. The -martins returned, however, to the one which -had not flown, and shortly after I again discovered -the bird cluster in the sky. After fresh -noise and flutterings of wings the martins -finally flew, and no more were seen near the -lake that season. Often in an August afternoon -the lake will be apparently without birds, when -<span class="pb" id="Page_124">124</span> -in a twinkling the air will be full of graceful -forms, and a flock of white-breasted swallows, -barn swallows, or night-hawks will sweep over -the blue water, rise, vanish over the meadow, -reappear, fly towards the peak, wheel, return, -and then perhaps speed away, not to greet the -fair lake again until ice and snow have come -and gone, and the number of their own light -forms has been sadly diminished in the south.</p> -<p>A field of buckwheat or other small grain is -a magnet in the days when the birds are wandering. -To it come the song sparrows, chipping -sparrows, white-throats, juncos, purple -finches, field sparrows, goldfinches, and bay-winged -buntings. They love to linger many -days in the stubble; and when bird music is -rare, their occasional songs are precious to the -ear. If the field is approached softly there -seems to be no life hidden in its midst, but suddenly -wings whirr noisily, and bird after bird -flies up into the neighboring trees and bushes. -Sparrows love fences, stone walls, and their accompanying -growths of berry-bushes and small -trees. The latter are our New England substitutes -for the hedgerows of the Old World, and -I believe the sparrow tribe takes as much comfort -in wall and briers as in hedge and ditch. -The ditch is more than replaced by countless -brooks, always clear and pure, and the wall -<span class="pb" id="Page_125">125</span> -gives shade, shelter, food, and many a comfortable -perch. While driving along the narrow -roads, bordered by many a mile of rough stone -wall, the rattle of my wagon wheels startles the -sparrows and finches from their cover. The -bay-wing runs along the rut in front of the -horse; the goldfinch undulates over the field, -turns, and ripples back; the song sparrow -mounts a bush-top and scolds; the white-throat -appears for a moment in a gap between the -bushes and then goes on with his scratching in -the leaves. So they go southward along the -dusty roads, or the borders of dry field and -dryer pasture. They are thousands strong, yet -they look to be but a few each day, and the -careless eye might think them always the same -individuals from mid-August until Indian summer.</p> -<p>Sometimes alone, but often with the field -sparrows and bay-wings, or later with the juncos, -flocks of bluebirds travel the autumnal -way. This year, on August 28, I saw a flock -of twelve working slowly along a moor-like -pasture ridge in company with double their -number of sparrows. I have seen them by -dozens in early October mingle with juncos and -white-throats in gleaning over the stubble just -left bare by the melting of a first snowfall. As -they fly from spot to spot, they prefer to alight -<span class="pb" id="Page_126">126</span> -on the upper curve of a boulder, the tip of a -cedar, or some equally favorable point for seeing -and being seen. They are comparatively -silent, but now and then their sweet “<i>cheruit</i>” -comes as a promise that after the long winter -spring shall return, and with it their loveliness -and courage. Many of the birds go south -cheerfully, or indifferently, but the bluebirds -seem to linger sadly and lovingly, and to feel -that the migration is an enforced exile from the -home they love best.</p> -<p>The Chocorua country is not a good one for -starlings and blackbirds; in fact, I have never -seen but one bobolink nearer than Fryeburg -intervales, twenty-five miles away; and with all -my watching, no crow blackbird or meadow -lark has ever caught my eye in this region. -The old residents say that years ago, when flax -was cultivated hereabouts and grain-fields were -broader, these birds were present in large numbers. -The first flock of rusty grackles which I -have ever seen here appeared this year on a hilltop, -about the middle of the afternoon of September -22. The birds were either very tame -or very weary, for they remained in the tops of -some locust-trees, while I not only stood beneath -them, but shook their tree, called to them, and -clapped my hands. They maintained a steady -flow of <i>sotto voce</i> music charming to the ear.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_127">127</div> -<p>All migrants are not desirable visitors. An -inroad of hawks is far from pleasant for the -birds of a neighborhood, or for other migrants. -All through the month of September hawks -abound. They circle round the peak of Chocorua, -seemingly for the pleasure of it. Often -a dozen sharp-shinned and young Cooper’s -hawks are in sight there at once. Sometimes -great flocks of hawks pass across the sky, not -circling, as the red-tailed and red-shouldered -hawks are so fond of doing, but sailing straight -before the wind like a fleet of mackerelmen -running down the coast wing and wing. I once -saw three hundred and thirty migrating hawks -in one forenoon, most of them a thousand feet -or less above the earth, but some so high that -a powerful glass only just brought them into -view. The stately progress of these birds, moving -many miles an hour without a wing-beat -visible to the observer, is one of the wonders of -nature. The Dead Tree is a resting-place for -migrating hawks, eagles, and ospreys. I doubt -not that by night it is used by owls, when they -too move southward as their food grows scarce.</p> -<p>In several different years I have seen my big -blue heron sail away southward. In each instance -it has been about four o’clock in the -afternoon. Rising with slow and dignified -flight, he makes two or three immense circles -<span class="pb" id="Page_128">128</span> -over the lakes, and then, as though partings -were said, landmarks remembered, and bearings -taken, he flies with strong and steady strokes -towards the outlet of the Ossipee basin. This -year, in August, ten night herons visited us at -one time, remaining in the neighborhood two or -three days. When disturbed by day, they rose, -and, forming an orderly flock, flew away with -military precision. The ducks and geese are, -however, the best examples of well-drilled companies. -Geese are not often seen here, although -several were killed this spring in a small lake -halfway between Chocorua and the Bearcamp. -Wood duck and black duck begin to fly past us -late in August, but their numbers are comparatively -insignificant, a flock of ten being unusually -large. In October and early November -the wind-swept lakes are seldom without little -companies of black ducks, sheldrakes, and their -less common relatives.</p> -<p>One of the most interesting of migrants is -the loon, or great northern diver. Loons are -said to breed in this vicinity on Whitton Pond, -and they are seen now and then during all the -summer months. It is on the edge of a northeast -storm in September, when mackerel clouds -deck the sky and the hazy sunlight spreads gold -upon the ripples, that the migrating loon comes -with the force of a cannon-ball, and plunges -<span class="pb" id="Page_129">129</span> -into the lake’s waters. His shrill laughter is -taken up by all the mocking forests, and his -deep and prolonged diving carries consternation -to bass and pickerel. Restlessly he plows the -ruffled water with his broad breast, and now -and then he pounds the waves with his wings, -raising his head high above them. When he -flies, the water is churned into foam for many -yards before his unwieldy body is finally raised -into the air and placed under the full control -of his powerful wings. Then he rises little by -little, his wings moving faster and faster, until, -after progressing half a mile, he has risen two -or three hundred feet. Turning, he comes back, -still rising, and passes in review the lake and -forests which he is to leave. Again and again -he tacks, on each new line rising farther from -the earth, until at last, seen against the sky, he -is but a pair of swiftly whirling wings set -strangely far back on the long black line of his -head, neck, and body. It is said that hunters -have been killed by being struck by falling loons -shot by them on the wing.</p> -<p>Occasionally a stray sea-bird comes to the -mountain lakes. Herring gulls have been seen -on Chocorua Pond, a Wilson’s tern was shot on -August 30, 1890, on Ossipee Lake, and a year -earlier, on September 30, a black tern remained -half a day on my lonely lake.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_130">130</div> -<p>Late in September and in October there are -days when the rush of migrating birds is like -the stampede of a defeated army. I recall one -such day, the 25th of September, 1891, when a -torrent of migrants swept past my red-roofed -cottage in the hour following sunrise. Before -breakfast, and without going out of sight of my -door, I saw over two hundred birds go by, including -sixty pigeon woodpeckers, several sapsuckers, -nuthatches, chickadees, crows, blue -jays, robins, catbirds, seven kinds of warblers, -solitary and red-eyed vireos, four kinds of sparrows, -a tanager, pewees, and a flock of cedar-birds. -Most of these birds were on the trees, -bushes, or ground, busily feeding, yet restlessly -progressing southwestward, as though haunted -by some irresistible impulse to keep in motion. -The day was hot and still, and my notes mention -the fact that we heard the splash of an -osprey as he plunged into the lake, more than -a quarter of a mile away. That evening the -whippoorwills were singing their farewells in -the soft moonlight.</p> -<p>As the early October days glide by, these -waves of migration come faster and faster, their -acceleration seeming, as one looks back upon -it, like the ever quicker throbbing of the air -under the wing-beats of the grouse. Even as the -drumming suddenly ceases and the summer air -<span class="pb" id="Page_131">131</span> -seems still and heavy in the silence which follows, -so the migration suddenly ends, and the -woods and fields become very still in the late -Indian summer. Now and then the scream of -a blue jay falls upon the ear, or a faint note of -a tree sparrow comes from the weeds by the -roadside; but as a rule nature is dumb, and the -leaves fall like tears. All the beauty of sky -and autumn foliage cannot bring the birds back -to the silent forest. Warm though the sun -may be, and soft the haze on the cheek of Passaconaway, -these charms cannot woo back the -birds from their migration. The music of the -Pied Piper has bewitched them, they are dreaming -of gushing waters and flowers of fairest hue; -and many a frosty, starlit night will pass before -their wings beat once more in the clear Chocorua -air.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_132">132</div> -<h2 id="c9"><span class="small">TRAPPING GNOMES.</span></h2> -<p>When the harvest moon is large and the -nights clear, I love to spend an evening hour or -two under the great oak-trees on the shore of -my lonely lake. The soft mists creep across -the water, bats flit back and forth squeaking, -the whippoorwills call to each other that the -time for migration is near at hand, and sometimes -the voices of the barred owls wake weird -echoes in the lake’s curves. Sitting motionless -in the black shadow, I am unseen and unsuspected -by the night creatures round me. Many -feet move upon the dry leaves, and the fluttering -of wings disturbs the still air. Measuring -the evening from sunset until ten o’clock, it -seems a period of more activity than the day. -Hours roll by in the September sunlight with -scarce a sign of life near the lake, but the coming -of twilight is a signal for awakening. High -in the oaks the gray squirrels are busy with the -acorns. In the stillness of the night an acorn -falling against one and another bunch of stiff -leaves, finally striking upon the ground, seems -to make an unduly loud noise. The fine squeak -<span class="pb" id="Page_133">133</span> -of a bat might pass unnoticed in the daytime, -but in the gloom it carries far and comes upon -the ear sharply.</p> -<p>In these hours the ground gives up its cave-dwellers, -and their soft feet rustle the leaves in -all the forest and by every brookside. From -the ledges of Chocorua, foxes by dozens descend -upon the surrounding farms and search for mice -and other prey. It is the light snowfall which -betrays the great number of these wary marauders, -and not the secretive leaves of autumn, -upon whose dry surfaces the fox-tread makes no -imprint. From his den under the screes the -hedgehog wanders through the woods or seeks -the orchard. The skunk, too, is abroad, poking -his snout into ant-hills or among mouldering -leaves where insects lie hidden. It is neither -fox nor skunk which makes the soft pattering -just behind the old oak against which I lean. -A smaller wanderer than they comes there, and -as surely as gnomes have settled in America -this must be one of their haunts. I feel certain -of it when a squeaky little whisper follows the -pattering, or when occasionally a tiny form darts -across a patch of moonlight near the edge of the -water.</p> -<p>In these September hunting-days I have left -the grouse to feed undisturbed among the blackberries, -and the hare to dream away the sunlit -<span class="pb" id="Page_134">134</span> -hours in his form among the swamp evergreens. -Gnome-hunting has been my pastime, and so -low is our human estimate of the character and -usefulness of these tiny creatures that my conscience -has not given the faintest bit of a twinge -when I have brought home dead gnomes from -field, meadow, mountain, and forest. Our -gnomes are not all of one kind, and when I -started with my game-bag in the September sunlight -I did not feel sure what manner of elf I -might bring home with me. Setting out early -on the morning of the 12th, I dashed the dew -from the brakes as I crossed an open pasture -on the way to my lonely lake. The brakes were -growing brown, yet we had had no frost, and -the equinox was still ten days distant. The -sumacs were gorgeous in green, scarlet, and orange, -waiting for the first rain or wind to hurl -to the ground half their gay leaves. As they -hung motionless in the sunlight, they seemed -brilliant enough for the tropics. Asters and -goldenrod joined them in painting part of the -picture with high colors, and so did the maples -on the high ledges of the mountain where a -bear-hunter’s fire raged last October. A bit of -woodbine climbing up the maple trunk gleamed -like flames, mountain-ash berries were full of the -same fire, and the clustered fruit of the hobble-bush -glowed in the midst of its maroon and -crimson foliage.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_135">135</div> -<p>What means this decking of the earth in autumn -with scarlet and purple, crimson and gold, -russet and orange? The flowers of the springtime -are full of joyous color, in order that the -wandering bee and butterfly may aid in their -fertilization. The bird gleams with color as -the glow-worm gleams with fire, that his mate -may not forget him in the mazes of the life-dance. -The autumn is the season of ripening, -of the gathering of harvests, of the decay of the -earthly, and the creation of that which shall -endure. Are these colors only the emblems of -death, the garlands upon the pall, or are they -the signals which Nature hangs on high to call -her forces into ranks for the battle against extinction -and in favor of persistent life? Surely -the berry which by its brilliancy of color calls -the bird to it, in order that it may be eaten and -its seeds carried afar, is as wise as the flower -which by its tints and perfume attracts the bee -and secures fertilization. Perhaps the tree -which blazes with autumn color is avoided by -insects whose instinct teaches them to shun colors -in contrast to their own.</p> -<p>Just beyond the sumacs is the stump of a prehistoric -pine. It has lasted generations since -its towering pillar fell and sank year by year -deeper into the soil. Its hard gray walls look -as though they might endure half a century -<span class="pb" id="Page_136">136</span> -more of snow and sunshine. Gnomes live under -that stump, and the first of my traps was set at -their cave archway. Kneeling down behind the -clustering blackberry briers, I could see the -archway just at the head of the opening between -two of the great buttress roots of the stump. -Moss was growing at the threshold, ferns overhung -the doorway, and a tiny path led through -the grass from the arch into the dry pasture beyond -the briers. Yes, the trap had been sprung, -and crushed beneath its cruel springs was a gray -gnome. His eyes were large and dark. His -coat was of soft gray, and his waistcoat snowy. -His hands and feet were very white and his elfin -ears mischievously large and erect. The name -of this gnome is quite musical,—<i>Hesperomys</i>, -the evening gnome.</p> -<p>In a deep hollow between wooded banks runs -the pasture brook. It comes from the forest-clad -mountain-side, and flows to a dark swamp, -beyond which is the lake. Gnomes live by the -brook, both in the hollow and in the swamp. -Nine traps were set in the hollow and eighteen -in the swamp. These traps are, with true Yankee -originality, named “cyclones,” and they are -nearly perfect as engines of destruction. Upon -a small square of tin are hinged two rectangles -of stiff wire, so attached to strong springs that -they naturally lie flat upon the square of tin. -<span class="pb" id="Page_137">137</span> -One rectangle is smaller than the other so that -it just lies within it. The trap is set by raising -the rectangles until they make a tent-like frame, -and then securing them by a catch. The best -lure for gnomes is whole corn, which is placed -near the centre of the square of tin in a tiny -cup suspended by a lever to the catch which -holds the trap open. The gnome steps softly -through the wire rectangles and tries to lift the -grain from the cup. Woe to him if he presses -ever so lightly upon the side of the cup, for if -it is depressed, and the other end of the lever -moved, the catch is cast free and the rectangles -fall together with such force as to crush any -small creature which stands below them.</p> -<p>The nine traps set by the brook were in groups -of three. As I drew near the first group, I -looked for broken twigs and a scrap of white -cotton tied to a branch, my signals to show where -the traps were placed. Bent twigs with their -leaves slightly withered and drooping are readily -seen at a long distance. The first three traps -were set at a point where the banks of the brook -were steep, and the level moss near the water -only a narrow belt. At one place a mossy log -crossed this level, a mouldering stump crowned -with ferns flanked it, and a big boulder raised -a wall of granite parallel with the stream. Just -across the brook was another long log covered -<span class="pb" id="Page_138">138</span> -with moss, violet leaves, and rue. One trap was -on this log, one by the boulder close to a little -hole running under it, and the third near the -mouldering stump. At first as I stood in the -midst of the traps I could see none of them. -The corn scattered near had been carried away -or eaten, and the strings by which the traps -were tied to stakes were not where I remembered -to have left them. Suddenly I saw one trap. -It was sprung and drawn away among the leaves. -Something was in it, something I had never -before seen, a creature more beautiful than any -squirrel, as graceful as a swallow and as suggestive -of speed and lightness. I knelt over this -slender, brightly-clad gnome, and released his -lifeless body from the trap. His cobweb-like -whiskers were wonderfully long, his coat was of -pale straw color and brown, his waistcoat of -purest white. No monkey has a tail proportionally -longer than the seemingly endless white-tipped -appendage of <i>Zapus insignis</i>, this jumping -gnome of the mountain streams. Exquisite -creature, I thought, how can I have lived so -long among woods and brooks without suspecting -your presence? But for a “cyclone” I -might never have known that such a being existed.</p> -<p>The other two traps were sprung, one containing -a second <i>Zapus</i>, and the third a gray -<i>Hesperomys</i>. Similar fortune had attended the -remaining traps by the brook, three containing -specimens of <i>Zapus</i>, two of <i>Hesperomys</i>, and -one a large mole with fur as fine as the softest -silk velvet. I pushed on eagerly to the series -of traps in the swamp.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig12"> -<p class="pcap">TWO KINDS OF GNOMES</p> -</div> -<div class="img" id="imgx1"> -<img src="images/p138.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="514" /> -<p class="pcap">Hesperomys</p> -</div> -<div class="img" id="imgx2"> -<img src="images/p138a.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="602" /> -<p class="pcap">Zapus</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_139">139</div> -<p>On the way I crossed a strip of level pasture -over which a grove of gray birches is rapidly -spreading year by year. Several of them are -bent so that their upper branches sweep the -ground. They are victims of the snow and ice -storms of winter, and, unlike the Arlington -cedars, they are not resilient enough to recover -an erect position. In the heart of the grove, a -family of sapsucking woodpeckers had been at -work in one of their “orchards.” Eight trees -bore marks of their mischievous tapping, and in -the two principal trees many hundreds of holes -had been made by them. Their thirst is as -insatiable as Mulvaney’s, but I supposed that -before this time they had wearied of their summer -fountains. Not so; one of them was hitching -around the drills, dipping as persistently as -in early July, and bees buzzed near him, enjoying -their share of the tree’s sweets. Restraining -my impatience to see the swamp traps, I -watched long for a humming-bird to visit the -drills, but none came, thus confirming my impression -that they not only arrive in New England -<span class="pb" id="Page_140">140</span> -later than the sapsuckers, but that they -migrate southward earlier.</p> -<p>While I waited under the birches, a gray -squirrel came tripping over the grass and -through the brakes. His great brush was not -carried over his back, but in an arch behind -him. His approach was so noisy that at first I -thought a dog was coming towards me, but his -voice betrayed him. “<i>Cluck, cluck, cluck, cleck, -cleck, cleck, cleck, clēēk</i>.” If a “cyclone” had -been choking him he could not have made -sounds any more queer. When at last he discovered -me, he lowered his tail and undulated -very softly away.</p> -<p>The first of the second series of traps was set -on the slope leading down towards the moist bed -of the swamp. It contained one of the white-footed -gray gnomes. The next three were -empty. Number five was in the darkest part -of the swamp on a huge upturned stump whose -twisted roots, looking like the arms of a devil-fish, -reached far into the air. The trap was -sprung, and the gnome in it was as new to my -eyes as <i>Zapus</i> had been. Coarse, chestnut-brown -hair, in parts almost as bright as red -mahogany, small eyes, conspicuous ears, and a -tail so short that it seemed only a stump of -something more satisfactory, were the conspicuous -points in this gnome. His name, as I later -<span class="pb" id="Page_141">141</span> -learned, was <i>Evotomys</i>, the long-eared gnome. -His rich coloring matched to perfection the decayed -hemlock stump in which he lived, and -harmonized with the brown bark of pines and -the stained waters of the swamp brooks. In the -sunlight, or upon the sand by the brookside, he -would have been conspicuous. Where he lay he -looked like a fragment of the reddish wood -under him.</p> -<p>Five more of his tribe, and a tiny shrew, only -three inches long, were found in the remaining -swamp traps. One of the gnomes had been -nearly devoured as he lay in the trap, the parts -remaining being skin, feet, tail, and a small -portion of the head. I suspected a big mole of -being the ghoul. On my way home I looked -in a trap set under a small foot-bridge which -spanned a damp spot in a mowing-field. The -victims here—for two had been caught at -once—were of the family <i>Arvicola</i>, the sturdy -gnomes of the fields. Their eyes were very -small, their ears almost concealed by their -coarse, dark-brown hair, and their bodies awkwardly -but strongly built. They are the farming -gnomes.</p> -<p>On September 17, I walked from Berry’s to -the Swift River intervale, over the once “lost -trail,” now nearly completed as a broad bridle-path -and winter road. I took twenty-five -<span class="pb" id="Page_142">142</span> -“cyclones” with me and set them at the most -favorable spots along the way. Brook crossings, -big, moss-grown stumps or logs, boulders -overhanging springs or rivulets, and old logging -camps were among the places which seemed -to me likely to be frequented by gnomes. As I -was not to return until the next day, a night -would intervene to give the little cave-dwellers -time to smell the corn and to inspect and spring -the traps.</p> -<p>The intervale was very beautiful as it lay -tranquil in the autumn haze, but the memories -of last Christmas-time had a charm about them -which even the foretaste of Indian summer -could not equal. Snow adds greatly to the dignity -and grandeur of our New England mountains, -making them more akin to the Alps, perpetual -in their wintry covering. Chocorua, -always a reminder of the Matterhorn, is much -more like it when clad in ice, and rose-tinted -by the morning sun. Even Swift River, framed -in meadow brakes, waving osmundas, and gay -scarlet maples, seemed less sparkling than when -set in ice and overhanging banks of pure white -snow.</p> -<p>As night came, coldness suggestive of winter -crept over the great plain. The first light frost -came caressingly in the still night hours and -fell upon the pumpkin vines and the delicate -<span class="pb" id="Page_143">143</span> -ferns by the roadside, so that morning saw -them wither away and die in the early sunbeams. -With the dawn came many bird-notes. -Crows, jays, flickers, red nuthatches, chickadees, -golden kinglets, robins, cedar-birds, and -goldfinches all made their voices heard. In the -bushes by the road, Maryland yellow-throats -mingled with various migrating sparrows, and -among the spruces dozens of warblers flitted -joyously back and forth, saying little, perhaps -because nuthatches and red-eyed vireos said too -much. Swallows had gone, but grace of flight -was shown by hawks of various kinds which -circled, soared, or shot past on even wing. The -fickle crossbills, present a year ago this week in -large numbers, were nowhere to be seen.</p> -<p>Sabba Day Falls were even grander than I -remembered them to be, and although nothing -could surpass in loveliness the icicles, frozen -spray, masses of snow, and other paraphernalia -of winter which had surrounded them in December, -their present dress of tender green and -brown, relieved by autumnal colors and crowned -by a cloudless sky of purest blue, was wonderfully -fair to look upon, and to lay away in the -mind for weary days when brick walls and -English sparrows should replace the wilderness -and its warblers.</p> -<p>It was high noon when I turned my back on -<span class="pb" id="Page_144">144</span> -Carrigain and Bear and climbed the ridge -towards Paugus valley. Would the traps be -sprung? The question gave speed to my footsteps, -which might otherwise have lagged by -spring or brookside, for the day was meltingly -warm and no breeze came over the Paugus ramparts. -The first trap was near the top of the -ridge, under a huge boulder. It was two miles -from the nearest house in the intervale, and -more than double that distance from Berry’s -or any other inhabited dwelling in Tamworth. -Perhaps gnomes did not live in spots so remote -from man and his grain-fields. The trap was -sprung. <i>Evotomys</i> had found it and perished. -The next one was sprung, and a second long-eared -victim lay in it. So with the third and -fourth, set at intervals of many rods. The -fifth was sprung, but empty; the sixth contained -a gray <i>Hesperomys</i>; the seventh another -<i>Evotomys</i>. I was now in the deep, dark valley -between the northern ridges of Paugus and -Chocorua. Three miles and a half of the -roughest mountain woodland lay between this -spot and tilled land, yet animal life was so -abundant that it seemed to make no difference -where I set my traps and scattered my corn; -gnomes were everywhere waiting.</p> -<p>Out of twenty-five traps, fifteen held victims -and six others were sprung, but empty. One -<span class="pb" id="Page_145">145</span> -of the slain was a chipmunk, another a mole. -Of the remainder, three were long-tailed gray -<i>Hesperomys</i>, and ten were red-backed <i>Evotomys</i>. -The latter are clearly the most numerous -inhabitants of the dark evergreen forests, but -they are also to be found near secluded farm -buildings in spots where the fulvous <i>Hesperomys</i> -is the prevailing sprite. Among these -gnomes of the woods and fields, all true American -species, a European intruder is found. In -some thickly settled places he has done among -gnomes what the European sparrow has done -among birds, elbowed himself into exclusive -possession. When found in a trap, or seen -scampering along the pantry shelf, this gnome -is called, in vulgar English, <i>a mouse</i>.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_146">146</div> -<h2 id="c10"><span class="small">OLD SHAG.</span></h2> -<p>Old Shag, Toadback, or Paugus Mountain -stands in the Sandwich range between Chocorua -on the east and Passaconaway on the -west. It is better armed against attack by -mountain climbers than any of its neighbors, -and this in spite of the fact that in elevation it -is the lowest of the range. Its defenses consist -of numerous radiating ridges covered with dense -growths of spruce and crossed by belts of “harricane,” -miles of cliffs so forbidding as to repel -any but determined assault, and ravines choked -by débris of rock and fallen forest. No path of -any kind leads to its top, and when its summit -is gained, none of the familiar marks indicating -previous visits by egg-eating, initial-cutting -tourists are discoverable.</p> -<p>Like most impregnable fortresses, Paugus has -its weak spot. There is a way to reach its southern -summit without touching a “harricane,” -climbing a precipice, or struggling through -more than a few rods of spruce jungle. Moreover, -on this way the traveler is sung to by one -of the most musical of streams, while his eyes -are charmed by the ever-changing beauties of a -series of as exquisite cascades as are to be found -in the White Mountains. It is true that in -midsummer the brook is so reduced in size that -its chief charm is seriously lessened, but if the -time chosen for ascent is in spring, autumn, or -after a heavy summer rain, the falls will be -found at their best.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig13"> -<img src="images/p146.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="679" /> -<p class="pcap">PAUGUS FROM WONALANCET ROAD NEAR START OF LIBERTY TRAIL UP MOUNT CHOCORUA</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_147">147</div> -<p>On the morning of September 15, a party of -four persons entered the “lost trail,” leading -from Berry’s to the Swift River intervale. A -heavy rain had fallen during the whole of the -preceding day, and Paugus River, with all its -sons and daughters, grandchildren brooks, and -great-grandchildren rivulets, made the forest -resound with the music of innumerable singing -falls and rapids. Following the old trail for -two miles, the party reached a spot where a -good-sized stream appeared flowing eastward -from the great hollow in the eastern flank of -Paugus. Leaving the bridle-path at this point, -and walking nearly due west, the explorers followed -the branch towards its source. As the -region was reported to be thickly set with bear-traps, -the party walked in Indian file, while -their leader sounded and punched every foot of -moss and soft leaf mould with his stout staff. -The traps used by the hunters on these mountains -are murderous inventions, consisting of -<span class="pb" id="Page_148">148</span> -two huge steel jaws lined with sharp teeth. -The trap, when set, is buried beneath a layer -of moss. If a bear or man steps between the -opened jaws, thereby pressing a pan which -frees the two powerful springs below the jaws, -the trap closes instantaneously, the teeth are -locked in the flesh, cutting sinews and crushing -bone. A man thus caught is maimed for life, -if, indeed, he does not die from starvation and -pain before he can be released from his horrible -imprisonment. A bear usually drags the trap -until its anchor catches in a tree, or his strength -is exhausted. Sometimes he gnaws off his foot -and crawls away bleeding and crippled. The -trap weighs from twenty-five to forty pounds, -and although usually marked in such a way that -its owner can recognize it, no name betrays the -identity of the trapper.</p> -<p>The places chosen by the bear hunter for setting -his traps are those to which a bear is in the -habit of going often. On damp and mossy -spots the great footprints of the brute show -plainly, and when the trapper is satisfied that -Bruin walks that way habitually, he cuts out a -square of moss upon which the footprint is -plainly visible, places his open trap in the hole, -restores the moss with great care, and goes -away for a week, or even longer, visiting other -traps, some of which may be many miles away. -<span class="pb" id="Page_149">149</span> -If signs of any proper kind were placed near -the traps to warn the passer-by of his peril, there -would be small reason to complain of bear-trapping, -but unhappily no such signals are displayed, -and man, if he wanders in wild places, -is in as much danger as the bears. The brook -bed which our party of four was ascending is -one of the best grounds for bears in all the -Sandwich range. No wonder, then, that we -watched and sounded anxiously for hidden -traps.</p> -<p>As we walked westward into the hollow in -the side of Paugus, the ground rose rapidly and -the level land on the edges of the stream soon -gave way to steeply sloping banks. For beech, -birch, and maple were substituted spruce, balsam -fir, and hemlock; the rapids of the brook -changed to falls; glimpses of sky were replaced -by occasional peeps at spruce-capped gray cliffs -hanging high above us, and we felt as though if -we kept on we should soon enter the black interior -of a vast cavern, unless some unseen avenue -to light and air appeared. The barometer -showed that we had climbed nearly a thousand -feet, when suddenly there opened before us a -view of a succession of high, steeply-sloping -ledges, polished by rushing water and festooned -with delicate mosses. A sheet of clear and -sparkling water, stained a rich hemlock brown -<span class="pb" id="Page_150">150</span> -by the moss beds through which it had filtered, -poured in quivering folds over the rock. Standing -by the side of the pool at the foot of the -lowest incline, we could see four of these smooth -ledge faces rising one behind another above us. -Climbing to their top, we saw as many more still -higher, and beyond them all, twin cascades -gleamed through the trees, as they fell from a -ledge in the middle of which a mass of black -spruces and huge gray rocks seemed to form an -island poised in the air between the two halves -of the torrent.</p> -<p>Nearly a thousand feet above this twin fall, -yet so close beyond it that my companions almost -despaired of further progress up the mountain, -was a wall of gray rock suspended between -the sky and the tree-tops. It was the last redoubt -of the impregnable Paugus. Was there -a rift in its apparently solid face? Yes, I knew -that there must be, because years before I had -come down this ravine from the summit and -had found no obstacle to gradual and easy descent. -While passing the falls, we used the -barometer to ascertain their approximate height, -and found a difference of two hundred and fifty -feet between the level of the pool at their foot -and that of the stream above the twin cascades. -The several inclines down which the water shot -in rippling sheets were each fifty or sixty feet -long and about twenty-five feet in perpendicular -rise. With a stream twice or three times the -volume of this brook, Paugus Falls would take -rank as among the most beautiful in New England. -Even as they are, they deserve a place -in song instead of obscurity in an almost unknown -corner of a pathless mountain.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig14"> -<img src="images/p150.jpg" alt="" width="691" height="1000" /> -<p class="pcap">CHOCORUA SEEN FROM THE SIDE OF PAUGUS</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_151">151</div> -<p>Not far above the twin cascades, the brook -formerly shot over a polished ledge almost steep -enough to form a perfect fall. Here a very -unusual and interesting change had been worked -in the rock and the course of the water by the -action of frost. Just at the point where the -polished rock bed of the stream was steepest, a -crack had opened at right angles with the current. -Of course water had filled this fissure -and deepened it until in some winter night a -sound of rending must have startled the forest -and echoed afar down the gorge. The front of -the ledge, measuring twenty yards or more from -side to side and nearly half that distance from -top to bottom, broke from its ancient foundation -and slipped forward about eighteen inches, thus -forming a perpendicular crevasse sixty feet long -and twenty feet deep. Into this the stream -plunged and vanished from sight. Standing -just below the crevasse and looking up the -smooth face of the ledge, I could see the eager -water coming towards me, hurrying forward its -<span class="pb" id="Page_152">152</span> -amber masses, bubbles, sheets of foam, and -yellow leaves dropped by the ripening trees. -As it seemed about to hurl itself upon me and -sweep me down its bed, it disappeared.</p> -<p>When the water reached the bottom of the -crevasse, it turned aside and flowed at right -angles to its course until a fault in the rock -allowed it to steal out into the daylight. The -crevasse was full of sounds, and amid the -splashing, gurgling, and roaring of the water, -the ear could fancy that it detected wild cries, -sobs, and moans.</p> -<p>Above this rift and cavern of wild waters -came many a rod of steep climbing. Again -and again an impassable cliff seemed to bar our -way, but each time the stream showed us how, -by a zigzag or a long diagonal, we could avoid -the abrupt face of the rock and find a way to a -higher level. Finally, after nearly four hours -of climbing we found ourselves in a moist and -mossy hollow between two of the summits of the -mountain. Northward the rocks rose abruptly -to the wooded crest of the highest ridge, southward -they rose to the dome-shaped ledge which -forms the best height for observation, wind and -fire having left it as bald as an egg. It was -impossible to cross the moist hollow dry shod, -for at no point was it less than a rod wide and -in parts it was forty or fifty yards from ledge to -<span class="pb" id="Page_153">153</span> -ledge. The brown water stood in pools amid -the sphagnum beds and between the stems of -trees. Several paths led downward between -the low spruces to these pools, but we shunned -them. Human feet had not trodden them, unless, -indeed, the bear hunter had passed that way -and set his traps directly across them. In one -place I saw where a bear had recently walked -across the sphagnum, leaving the imprint of -his huge foot clearly stamped upon the moss.</p> -<p>The view from the dome of Paugus was autumnal -in tone. Great masses of cold clouds -were sweeping across the blue sky, urged forward -by a blustering northwest wind. Wherever -the spruce growth upon the mountains was -interrupted by deciduous trees, delicate shades -of red, yellow, or russet lay in patches between -the sombre tones of the evergreens. In spots -brilliant scarlet maples stood out boldly, but as -a rule the new colors were not pronounced but -merely suggestive of the gorgeous transformation -soon to be perfected. In the hollows, especially -those in which “harricanes” had been -overgrown by mountain ash, sumac, and similar -perishable wood, the autumnal tints were more -prevalent and stronger. The only flowers upon -the mountain-top were a few small asters with -highly scented leaves, and a goldenrod (<i>macrophylla</i>) -with large blossoms and coarse leaves.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_154">154</div> -<p>Old Shag is not high enough to rival Chocorua -or Passaconaway with its views, but it -affords the only really satisfactory chance of -studying those two mountains from a point between -them. Chocorua varies strangely in its -outlines from different points of view. From -the south it looks like a huge lion couchant; -from the Albany intervale it is an irregular -ridge resembling a breaking wave; from Paugus -it seems more like a giant fortress, with battered -ramparts lifted high against the sky. A -slide, invisible from other points, is seen to extend -from the western foot of the peak far down -into the forests of the Paugus valley. North of -it a ridge densely grown with old spruce runs -from the peak northwestward. It is one of the -few parts of Chocorua not given up to deciduous -trees. Beyond it rises the Champney Falls -brook which flows northward into Swift River.</p> -<p>Passaconaway from the Bearcamp valley is -one of the most perfect of pyramids; from Paugus -it is a rough hump of sinister outline and -color. The spruces upon it grow so thickly -that it is hard to force a way through them, yet -they spring from sides so steep that it seems a -marvel that any soil or vegetation can cling to -the rocks. A slide of great length shows its -scar upon the eastern face, and serves to emphasize -the fact that this side of Passaconaway -is really less of a slope than of a continuous -precipice nearly three thousand feet from summit -to plain. In these almost inaccessible forests -several birds from the Canadian fauna are -occasionally found. I have seen there in summer -both kinds of the three-toed woodpeckers; -Canada grouse or spruce partridges have been -shot there this autumn, and the moose-bird, or -Canada jay, is occasionally seen near the lumber -camps.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig15"> -<img src="images/p154.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="601" /> -<p class="pcap">WHITEFACE AND PASSACONAWAY FROM PAUGUS</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_155">155</div> -<p>In descending a mountain in the afternoon -which has been climbed in the morning, many -new effects of light and shade, color, and even -of outline, are observable. This may be puzzling -to the guide who does not thoroughly know -his path, but it is the one redeeming feature in -a homeward scramble to those who are weary -enough to regard their second view of a mountain-side -as an anti-climax to the triumphant -ascent of a new peak. Paugus Falls were more -beautiful with the pallor of the afternoon around -them, than they were with the southeastern sun -shining into their rushing bubbles. They were -whiter and the water consequently looked -greater in volume. Again we wondered how -such rare beauty could have been hidden so -long in an untrodden forest, and, wondering, -we blazed the trees so that those who might -come after us could follow without perplexity -<span class="pb" id="Page_156">156</span> -the easy and beautiful way which we had been -fortunate enough to find.</p> -<p>When we reached the old trail, about five -o’clock, the woods seemed dark and the penetrating -coolness of an autumn night was in the -air. Twenty minutes later we emerged in the -blackberry tangle by the abandoned saw-mill, -and found wagons and warm wraps waiting for -us. As we looked back towards the golden -sunset, the dark dome of Old Shag stood boldly -out against the sky. Fire and wind had left -scars upon its face, and nature originally made -it so rough in outline that “Toadback” is tellingly -descriptive of its shape. Toads have -their jewels, and so has Paugus, hidden in the -shadows of its eastern flank.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_157">157</div> -<h2 id="c11"><span class="small">MY HEART’S IN THE HIGHLANDS.</span></h2> -<p>No matter how tightly the body may be -chained to the wheel of daily duties, the spirit -is free, if it so pleases, to cancel space and to -bear itself away from noise and vexation into -the secret places of the mountains. Well it is -for him who labors early and late at the desk, -if his soul can thus spread its wings and soar -to deep forests, clear lakes, and rugged mountain -peaks, drawing from memory, imagination, -and sweet forecast, something to inspire itself -to patient action, and something to strengthen -the heart in its wish to do its appointed task -manfully. As these bright October days slip -by and my wheel of daily duties spins round -and round in that granite prison called University -Hall, my memory takes me back to fair -Chocorua. I remember the 6th of October in -the year 1884. The sun struggled through soft -gray clouds and gazed upon a world of magical -opposites. Every maple in a hundred townships -blazed with scarlet or gold; yet soft and -cold, wrapping the earth from Chocorua’s horn -to the sand at the lake shore, the first snow of -<span class="pb" id="Page_158">158</span> -autumn sparkled in the rays of the rising sun. -Skies of blue, forests of fire, fields of snow,—those -were the delights of that matchless October -dawning.</p> -<p>If the wheel grows too noisy I come back from -these visions to my desk and its papers, and -open dozens of letters from all over our broad -country, from Europe, Japan, Mexico, and from -distant India, whence some Harvard soldier of -the Cross writes to ask tidings of his <i>alma -mater</i>. In his day every John knew every -William, and the roll of the University never -climbed beyond the hundreds. Now the questioner -at my side wonders how near we shall -come to having three thousand students this -year; while the prophet declares that in five -years or less Harvard will have distanced Cambridge -and Oxford, and become the greatest -English-speaking University in the world. -Even now her students do not all speak English. -Aside from the scores of American -youths who hear only light-weight silver dollar -English at home, and who learn little that is -better at school, there are many who come to -Harvard from far-away foreign homes. The -tall Bulgarian with his dark eyes full of poetry -and fire; the patient Russian Jew, exiled from -a cruel land, and struggling night and day to -win an education and a fortune in the home of -the free; the dashing young Norwegian, with -winning, deferential manners and a light in his -blue eyes which speaks of his own glaciers and -dark fjords; the gifted Japanese, absorbing -philosophy or science with such readiness as to -make his slower American competitor blush -with shame; the angular Armenian, with his -keen, thin face and nervous hands; the self-possessed -Costa Rican, the moody Icelander -and his taciturn but clear-headed neighbor from -Newfoundland,—all are beside me taking turns -with their American fellow-students in hurrying -my wheel until the day is done.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig16"> -<img src="images/p158.jpg" alt="" width="651" height="1000" /> -<p class="pcap">CROWLANDS, FORMERLY THE OLD DOE FARM</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_159">159</div> -<p>When the day is done, and pale sunset colors -lie in the sky behind the witching iron tracery -in the great western gateway, my soul goes -northward again into that other October when -the early snow melted, and the winds blew in -the fair Chocorua land. I go back to a gusty -afternoon when we rowed our boat the length -of the lakes and landed upon the silent shore of -the old Doe farm. It was our first visit to the -white sand of that beach, to the little footpath -leading upward through the orchard, and to the -tumble-down cottage with its huge chimney, -in which the swifts had found no smoke for -twenty long years. Our first visit,—yet now -the anchor of life is so strongly fixed on that -shore, and the family fairies so firmly domiciled -<span class="pb" id="Page_160">160</span> -on that hearth, that our first voyage of discovery -seems as far off as the time when “Kit -Colombus sailed from the Papal See.”</p> -<p>We wandered through the rooms of the cottage, -peeped at the sky through the cracks in -its roof, noted the pewee’s nest on the wainscoting -in the east room, and whirled the old -flax-wheel which stood in the dark attic. Then, -passing the ancient maples behind the great -barn, we strolled on and on through the pastures -until a faint path led us to the lonely lake -among the dingles, almost at the foot of Chocorua. -Softly descending the steep path to the -edge of the green water, we saw five black ducks -rise from the lake and fly from us over the oaks. -The rush of their wings is in my ears to this -day, and my eyes recall the clouds which loomed -over the peak and swept down upon the lake, -bringing much cold wind and a little rain. -From the storm-clouds a small hawk came circling -down towards the troubled water and -tossing birches. As he soared above us, seemingly -protesting against our coming into the -charmed vale, I shot him. The strong wings -gave one spasmodic beat, the fierce head fell -forward, and the body shot downward and -struck the sand at our feet. We had claimed -dominion by force of arms, and when we next -saw the lake, it was ours in law.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_161">161</div> -<p>The wheel turns fastest in the University -prison house when pale boys and gaunt young -men come to me with confidences of their life-long -hope to come to fair Harvard, of mothers’ -sacrifices, and fathers’ toil, of the parson’s -chiding against the influence of the non-sectarian -college, and the schoolmaster’s prophecy -that Cambridge will be all proud looks and cold -hearts, and finally of their own determination -to work their way through, no matter what the -cost in comfort and energy. It is the same -soul-stirring story, whether it speaks from the -butternut-colored coat from Georgia, the coarse -gray homespun from Cape Breton, or the shiny, -long-tailed black frock from Nebraska. Beseeching, -honest, or searching eyes look straight -into the heart, and the heart would not be good -for much if it did not grow warmer under their -scrutiny. Generally all except the least useful -and adaptable of such men find ways of earning -much of that which is needed to keep them -decently clad and safely fed during their years -of study; but it is anxious work starting them -on self-support, and helping them to drive -away homesickness.</p> -<p>There is a feeling of gritting sand and the -lack of oil in the wheel when purse-proud, over-dressed, -loud-voiced, tired-eyed youths drift to -me in their attempts to escape parts of their -<span class="pb" id="Page_162">162</span> -college duties. They have come from shoddy -homes to mix shoddy with the honest stuff of -Harvard life. It would be better for them, for -us, and for all their associates, if they never set -foot on scholastic ground. Still they serve as -a foil to the noble-hearted men of wealth who -are the glory of a college,—men who are strong -in their willingness to aid others, pure in heart, -active in body, loyal to the ideals of the University.</p> -<p>One reason that the wheel of duty turns hard -is to be found in the multitude of human atoms -pressing against it. The present system of college -government was well adapted for the management -of five or six hundred men, for it is an -easy task for an officer of keen sympathies and -a good memory to carry even more than six -hundred men in his mind, and to know their -faces, names, and general record. Now that -the six hundred have become two thousand, and -the same system is applied, each officer being -expected to know something of every student, -the memory gives way, interest weakens, and -discipline through acquaintance becomes impossible. -Here and there individual students -stand out conspicuously and become well-known -figures in the crowd; but it is more likely to be -through their success in football than in their -studies. The man who attains “Grade A” in all -<span class="pb" id="Page_163">163</span> -his studies may be dull-eyed and dingy; but the -half-back on the university eleven cannot fail to -have in him some of the qualities of the hero.</p> -<p>On the football field of a Saturday afternoon -I am less likely to let my thoughts wander away -to Chocorua than when at my desk. Something -akin to the wild north wind seems surging down -old Jarvis when the crimson rush-line guards -its bunch of ball-carriers as they fly round the -left end, blocking, interfering, sweeping down -opposing arms, hurling themselves against -crouching tacklers, and finally falling across -the line for the triumphant touchdown. That -Chocorua north wind is as irresistible in its -way, when in October it hurls itself from the -mountains and lashes the lake till foam flies in -white masses over the crests of the breaking -waves. Such winds often arise suddenly, and -in a moment change the placid water, full of -its reflections of gay forest and lofty peak, into -a turbulent mass of waves. I well remember a -soft, hazy morning when we rowed a heavy flat-bottomed -boat to the northern end of the lake, -returning about noon. When in the middle of -the pond, the wind caught us, and, turning the -boat sideways, drove it towards a shallow cove -lined with boulders. Every wave dashed spray -and water over the gunwales, and the most vigorous -rowing availed nothing against the furious -<span class="pb" id="Page_164">164</span> -wind. It was not until I could jump overboard -in the shoal water and push the boat -before me out of the wind that I really regained -the mastery of it.</p> -<p>About the middle of October a vast regiment -of birds passes over the Bearcamp valley. On -the 13th of October, 1889, I counted and recognized -488 birds. Of these, 173 were crows, -flying from the northeast towards the southwest -in two great flocks. They passed far above the -forests, many of them being much above the -tops of the highest mountains. On the same -day I counted 143 juncos, which were peppered -all over fields, roads, small thickets, pasture -bushes, and woods of small height. Wherever -we strolled the little cowled heads turned to -watch us, or the white V-shaped tail-feathers -flashed as the juncos flew from us. The white-throated -sparrows were almost always with them, -coming, I doubt not, from the same breeding-grounds, -and bent upon reaching the same -winter-quarters, or havens even farther south -than those which juncos like. Now and then a -white-crowned sparrow is to be seen among -flocks of this kind. Those who watch for them -are apt to see many white-throats, which they -try to persuade themselves are the rarer species, -but when the eye at last rests upon a white-crown -there is no doubting his identity.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_165">165</div> -<p>The golden-crested kinglets were present in -great numbers on the same 13th of October, -1889, and as they passed through the evergreens -they accomplished a marvelous amount of effective -house-cleaning. With them or near them -chickadees, red nuthatches, white nuthatches, -and brown creepers took part in the keen inspection -of the trees, and woe came to the insect -which fell under their eyes.</p> -<p>Among the other birds which I recorded that -day were robins, a hermit thrush, bluebirds, -yellow-rumped warblers, solitary vireos, a flock -of thirty-five goldfinches, a good many sparrows -of various kinds, blue jays, one or two kinds of -woodpeckers, several hawks, and a flock of black -ducks. They formed the rear guard of the -grand army, and as the leaves rustled down over -them it was easy to imagine snowflakes gathering -in the northern clouds and waiting for a -summons to begin their soft descent upon the -abandoned earth.</p> -<p>Bird voices sometimes mingle with the hum -and roar of my duty-wheel. Opposite my office -window are two tall pine-trees, almost the only -evergreens in the college yard. These trees -swarm with the alien sparrows, whose clamor at -times is almost deafening. Better three months -of utter silence than such bird music as this. -Each year, as autumn deepens into winter, I -<span class="pb" id="Page_166">166</span> -watch the immigrant sparrow to see whether he -is not learning that migration southward in the -season of snow is wise and comfortable. He -does wander somewhat, already, when food fails, -and it will not be strange if, as years pass, he -should acquire by sympathetic vibration something -of the swing of the migratory pendulum.</p> -<p>When I walk slowly home from my office -past Christ Church and the silent field of -quaintly lettered stones, past the old elm within -whose shade Washington took command of the -Colonial army, and past Cotton Mather’s gold -chanticleer holding high his ancient head against -the rosy afterglow, I seem to see beyond all -these things the crouching lion of Chocorua. -Waking or dreaming, the outline of that peak is -always stamped upon my northern horizon, and -the north is the point to which my face turns as -surely as does the needle, whenever my face, -like the needle, is left to settle its direction in -accordance with its controlling affinities. In -these October days the picture of Chocorua -which haunts me is not a summer picture. Far -from it. In it the leaves are falling, drifting -down like snow, birds are silent, nervous, always -on the alert for danger; new ledges show -upon the mountain-sides, new vistas have opened -through the forests, and spots which, when behind -their August leaf mantles seemed dark and -<span class="pb" id="Page_167">167</span> -secret, are now as open as the day. The brooks -are more noisy, and easily seen, the grouse fly -afar off; if one wishes a flower he must pluck -the witch-hazel or let the bitter yarrow or the -last clusters of goldenrod and asters satisfy him. -Nature seems preoccupied and inclined to tell -the visitor to see what he wants, and to take -what he can find, but to let her alone.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_168">168</div> -<h2 id="c12"><span class="small">THE VINTAGE OF THE LEAVES.</span></h2> -<p>Friday, October 21, was observed by Harvard -University as a holiday,—Columbus, while -hunting for something else, having on that day, -four hundred years ago, rediscovered America -for the Europeans. On the same day, four -hundred years ago, the Americans discovered -Columbus, a weary and worn mariner, nearing -the shore in a small and feebly-rigged ship. At -that time America was much more of a boon to -the explorer than he seemed likely to be to the -continent.</p> -<p>I left Cambridge about the time the sun -reached it, and gained the valley of the Bearcamp -at 1 <span class="sc">P. M.</span> There are some days in the -year which seem to have happened upon the -wrong calendar day. They are too cold or too -warm to keep company with the days which go -before and after. This was not one of them. -It was a model late October day, with clear air, -a rushing wind, dark blue-gray clouds moving -fast across a pale blue sky, leaves flying before -the wind, and with ruffled water full of cold -lights, though in spots increasing in its reflections -<span class="pb" id="Page_169">169</span> -the blue of the sky. Marvelous colors -were spread upon the face of the meadows, and -crept up the sides of the hills. The world was -in gay attire, gayer even than the towns this -day decked out in honor of the Genoese.</p> -<p>Gazing out of the train window, I have seen -the Sandwich range from afar over the melting -greens of spring, the rich verdure of summer, -and the cold, still snow of winter. To-day I -saw it framed in russet and carmine,—the colors -of the oak-clad hills of Wakefield. The -peak of Chocorua was capped by a dark slate-colored -cloud from which rain seemed to be falling. -Behind or above the other mountains of -the range the same threatening vapors hung. -As the train sped onward, past Ossipee Lake, -over the Bearcamp, and up to the West Ossipee -station, the clouds rolled away and a flood of -clear sunlight poured its revealing rays into the -hidden colors of the distant forests. From cold, -dark masses in which black rocks were no darker -than gloomy groves, the mountains’ sides suddenly -became aglow with warm tones. The -far-reaching view suggested a painter’s palette, -upon which he had been daubing his colors from -the tubes. Here he laid on a mass of dark -green, there crimson, and next to it pale yellow. -Then buff and orange, scarlet and blood-red -pleased him, and he rubbed them upon spare -<span class="pb" id="Page_170">170</span> -areas. Cobalt and ultramarine added here and -there, with now and then a dash of silvery white -or a broad band of burnt sienna, served to make -the scarlets more intense and the yellows more -aggressive.</p> -<p>Driving in an open wagon from West Ossipee -to the Chocorua House, I found a heavy overcoat, -warm gloves, and a fur robe essential to -comfort, especially on coming from the steam-heated -cars into the racing northwest wind. As -we sped through groves and across meadows, -my eyes devoured the wonderful coloring of all -that had once been green. I could see nothing -else, think of nothing else. The contrast to -our summer coloring could not have been much -sharper if I had been transported to the sanguinary -groves and pastures of the red planet -Mars. Even the birds which rose from the -roadside and whirled away before the wind -seemed less interesting, so absorbing were the -marvels of coloring in foliage from ancient oak -to tender grasses. A flock of birds seemed to -dance through the sunlight across the road, yet -when I looked after them they were only beech -leaves hurried along by the wind. A cloud -of leaves, picked up by an eddy of the air and -tossed high above the trees, suddenly became -bluebirds and sparrows speeding away from -the wagon across the pasture. Crows, few in -<span class="pb" id="Page_171">171</span> -number, and unusually wary, were not so easily -mistaken for leaves, nor were the robins, which -occasionally rose in flocks from the grass and -sought the branches of leafless maples or butternuts.</p> -<p>After a hasty dinner I left the hotel and -crossed field and copse to the outlet of the Chocorua -lakes. The third lake, with its deep, -dark water and its grove of lofty white pines -shutting it in from distant views, is one of the -most daintily lovely nooks in this region of -beauty and grandeur. Crows love the dark -pines, wild ducks float in their shadows, and -many a mink has been trapped at the end of -the dam. I found no life stirring in woods or -water, so stepping cautiously along the mouldering -logs of the dam, I gained the farther -shore and crossed a broad, rock-strewn pasture, -once covered by a growth of lofty pines. I -know not how many years ago they fell or were -felled, but this I do know, that scores of pitch-soaked -knots are hidden in their ruins and -among the ferns and bushes which have sprung -from the decaying stumps. Many is the winter -evening in town that I have sat by the fireside -and gazed into the red flame of the blazing -“light-wood” gathered in happy October days -from this old pasture. As the pitch grew hot -and burst through the dry wood, whining and -<span class="pb" id="Page_172">172</span> -whistling, blowing out long jets of white smoke -and slender tongues of flame, its voice and -warmth have carried me back in spirit to the -brown beds of fern, the busy chipmunks under -the old oak in the wall, or to the mayflowers -gathered in spring from the edges of the lingering -snow-banks. I passed a ledge of rocks on -which I had seen a woodchuck sunning himself -last August, and I recalled how he had squeezed -himself into a little cave in the ledge only to -find me peering in after him, and quite able to -reach him with a stick. His method of escape -from me was characteristic. Grunting and -snarling, he spent half his time in threatening -to come out and attack me, and the other half -in undermining himself and poking the earth -with his nose into the hole through which I -was looking. In five minutes he had completely -covered the opening and sunk his plump body -out of reach of my probe. Later in the season -I had a young woodchuck which had been partly -tamed escape from captivity by gnawing his -way through a thick pine board. The same -individual repeatedly climbed up six feet from -the floor on the coarse wire netting which formed -the front of his cage, so that in future I shall -not think it strange if I see a woodchuck climb -a tree. His eccentricity also carried him to -the point of devouring nearly a third of the -<span class="pb" id="Page_173">173</span> -carcass of a freshly-killed red squirrel, although -an abundance of clover and young vegetables -were close at hand ready for his dinner.</p> -<p>My walk took me up the western side of the -lake to my own land and cottage. Robins rose -from the ground in small flocks, a few tree -sparrows and juncos flew from a plowed field -by the wall, and two crows were feeding on -swampy ground by a brook. It was to them -that the land really belonged, not to me,—a -waif from the city. So a flock of white-throats -thought, as I disturbed them feeding upon the -chaff at the back door of my barn. They flew -into a bush on which a few dry leaves swung. -While still watching them, as I supposed, I discovered -that they had vanished, the wagging -leaves alone remaining. In the orchard a few -red apples hung, and gleamed like polished -stones. One which grew upon a wild tree in -the edge of the wood swung near the ground, -and sharp little teeth had bitten out pieces from -its side. Some of the fruit which lay upon the -ground had been gnawed away until its seeds -could be reached. Man eats the pulp and -throws away the seeds, the mice and squirrels -waste the pericarp solely to gain the seeds. -Perhaps in this case man would have thrown -away both apple and seeds had he tasted the -bitter, wild fruit.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_174">174</div> -<p>The lake was lower by a foot than I had ever -before seen it in the autumn. In August it had -washed the bushes on its dikes; now a yard or -more of sand tempted a stroller to follow its fair -rim past wood and meadow. Along my shore -of the lake the natural dike is in places fully -seven feet high. It has been made during the -centuries by the “thrust” of the ice which results -from the expansion of the ice-field by day -following its contraction by night. On a sandy -shore the expanding ice pushes up a little ridge -of silt, and works it higher and higher as the ice -mass rises during the winter. If the edge of -the ice meets an obstacle, it is apt to break at a -foot or more from the shore, and the pieces, still -carrying their load of gravel, are shoved up the -bank to its top, until, as years roll by, the dike -is made too high to receive further additions.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig17"> -<img src="images/p174.jpg" alt="" width="644" height="999" /> -<p class="pcap">TWILIGHT ON THE LAKE</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_175">175</div> -<p>The lake in summer is certain to be stirring -with life. Insects upon and over the water, -fish, frogs, birds, muskrats, and often large -animals are in sight and moving both by day -and by night. Now, as the waning sun grew -pale behind the birches, no living creature -moved. The yellow leaves drifted out upon the -breeze, and kept on drifting across the ruffled -water. Nothing cared where they drifted. -They were dead, and just then all the world -seemed full of falling, drifting leaves, with no -one to notice them or care for them. Were -they to blame for the feeling of sadness which -crept over me as the sun went down and the -first chill of night came into the air? Or was -it the absence of those who might, had they -been by the lake, have enjoyed the placid twilight -with me? No lights gleamed behind the -closed blinds of my home, no fire crackled upon -the hearth. Those whom I loved were far away -in the city. Leaves were falling in the city, -birds had fled from it as well as from the mountains. -Chilly night had fallen there too, and -with it came, not the sweetness of clear streams -and pine groves, but the foul breath of the -Charles and of Alewife Brook, open sewers of -filthy towns. No, it was not the sadness of the -season or the influence of drifting leaves which -cast a little shadow over my enjoyment of the -exquisite scene before me. It was regret at -being alone in its presence and of having to -leave it so soon in favor of desk and drudgery.</p> -<p>At ten minutes past five, planets sparkled in -the silvery sky, yet a mile away the colors of -oaks and poplars still burned their way to me -through the clear air. As I walked back to the -hotel, I noticed more clearly the number of -trees which had lost their leaves. By daylight -they were inconspicuous, flanked and backed as -they had been by evergreens and trees full of -<span class="pb" id="Page_176">176</span> -showy color. Now they reared their skeleton -arms against the sky, making some parts of the -way seem as desolate as in winter. Many of -the goldenrods, asters, and immortelles contributed -to the wintriness of the scene, for only -dry white phantoms of their once cheerful flowers -remained upon their stalks. The soft air -with only a trace of cold in it belied these signs -of winter, and so did the occasional note of a locust. -From the little rustic bridge between the -large and second lakes, the evening view of the -mountains was bewitching. If a hermit thrush -could have sung even one phrase of his holy -music, I might have felt satisfied; but no bird -was there to sing, and only the waves lapping -upon the pebbles and the breeze sighing in the -pines broke the silence of the starlit night. A -leaf came sailing down the lake and passed under -the bridge. Its little life as a green leaf -was over. It had served the tree which bore -it, and now its parched body was given to the -stream to be borne away wherever wind and current -decided. Was it, then, dead for all time? -Ask this of the coal which glows in the grate, -the oil which burns in the lamp, or the mayflower -whose roots spread through the leaf mould -in the forest. Where was this leaf a year ago, -or a century ago? As certainly as the parts of -this leaf have endured thus far, so certainly will -<span class="pb" id="Page_177">177</span> -they continue to endure in ages to come. It -seems equally sure that if there is a something -in me which will not and cannot in time be -made into leaves to wither and go down-stream -with the wind, then that something will necessarily -have as good a chance as the leaf to go -down a stream of its own and bring up safely -where it can be used again in endless cycles.</p> -<p>The voices of young chickens awoke me next -morning, and mingling with their melancholy -peeping came the wailing of a northeast wind as -it struggled through a window crack. Bed was -warm and my watch said it was only six o’clock. -I peeped through my blinds and saw that the -piazza roof seemed to be shining with rain. -Nothing but the momentum of a previous determination -to open my shutters led my finger -to press the snap and let the wind swing the -blind from me; for by the dismal shining of the -rain my mind had been completely robbed of -any wish to see the sky. The blind slammed -against the clapboards and a bewildering sea of -color surged across my vision. Instead of a -waste of gray mist and dull wet field, I saw six -mountains set against a silver sky; and rolling -from them towards me, line after line of wave-like -wooded ridges and pasture slopes, each -more brilliant in coloring than the last. The -sunlight was just touching a solitary cloud -<span class="pb" id="Page_178">178</span> -which floated feather-like above Paugus, and a -delicate sea-shell pink suffused it. Some of -the same radiance fell upon the granite peak of -Chocorua, floated over the highest ridges of -spruce-hung Paugus and Passaconaway, warmed -the naked shoulder of Whiteface, and touched -even the dark head of the Sandwich Dome -rising from the Pemigewasset forests. The -flanks of these mountains and the whole of -Mount Whittier, which rose in the southwest, -were violet. A moment before they might have -been dark purple, but now the rosy rays of -dawn were stealing down them swiftly. I had -scarcely time to note the wealth of suppressed -color which lay upon the wave-like hills between -me and the mountains, or to spring to my north -window, fling its blinds wide open, and see the -lake so ruffled by the wind and so hidden from -the coming dawn as to be only the quicksilver -side of the mirror, before the sunlight began -creeping down the mountain-sides.</p> -<p>It is a pretty sight in the twilight or darkness -to see a rosy edge of flame play along the -margin of a sheet of burning paper, slowly devouring -it. Some parts of the paper burn more -brightly than others, but the whole line of advancing -fire is beautiful and animating. So it -was with the line of sunlight slowly passing -from the rosy crests of the high mountains, -<span class="pb" id="Page_179">179</span> -downward, with even march across their flanks, -their projecting spurs, then the nearer hills, -the lake, and river hollow, and finally over the -great reach of woods and field nearest to me. -In summer nearly the whole of this wide landscape -is green or grayish green. In winter it -is white, grayish brown, and dark green. Early -autumn dots the woods with vivid points of -scarlet and gold which stand out sharply from -the mass of green; but as the sunlight crept -downward over this late October foliage the -prevailing color, which glowed forth full of -strength, warmth, and meaning, was red,—the -red of dregs of wine, of iron rust, of sleek -kine, of blood. Intermingled with it were bits -of golden or of sulphur yellow, marking birches -and poplars, and in the pastures a few maples -late in turning blazed with fiery scarlet as -their fellows had weeks earlier.</p> -<p>The warmest of the color came from the -oaks, but the beeches supported them with -generous pigments, and so did the masses of -blackberry vines, choke-cherry and huckleberry -bushes, and other small shrubs which had -turned crimson, red, or madder-brown under -the October sun. Sweet-fern bushes, brakes, -ferns, pine needles, many of the grasses, and -most of the fallen leaves constituting the greater -part of the earth’s carpet, answered the sun’s -<span class="pb" id="Page_180">180</span> -greeting by showing broad expanses of brown, -ranging from burnt umber to dark straw color.</p> -<p>Near the lake were many pines, and as the -light reached them they seemed to grow higher, -broader, nearer, and to shed into the surrounding -air something of their steadfastness and -strength. They change not, falter not, fail -not, come what may to their deciduous neighbors. -In this northern land they are a symbol -of constancy and faith. No one can look at a -pine-tree in winter without knowing that spring -will come again in due time. The lake itself -soon shared in the flood of color brought out by -the sun. Most of its surface was ruffled by -the breeze, but at points where the high pines -sheltered the water and left it rippleless, the -mountain-sides mirrored themselves, and the -reflection was red like wine.</p> -<p>As the sun rose higher above the hill behind -me, and cast its rays against the west, more -and more from above, and less from a level, -the colors in the landscape became less vivid, -and leafless trees, birch trunks, and softer tints -in general, blended with the maroons and -browns, toning them down and flattening them, -until the prevailing coloring on the mountain -slopes became like the bloom on the cheek of a -plum; and even the brighter, stronger tints in -the nearer view grew softer and dimmer.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_181">181</div> -<p>After breakfast I climbed the ridge behind -the Chocorua House and sought a small beech -grove on its crest. In the pasture one of the -hawkweeds, two goldenrods, autumn buttercups, -yarrow, the red and the white clover -were still in bloom, sparingly, of course, and -only in warm corners, but still clinging bravely -to sunlight and life. Crickets and small green -locusts were active and noisy. They frequented -hollows in the pasture surface, where beech -leaves had blown and lodged among the dry and -matted fern fronds. Lying in one of these -hollows, which made a warm dry cradle, I -watched the locusts hopping from leaf to leaf, -crawling along the warm faces of lichen-crusted -boulders, and now and then working their -bent legs up and down, while their fine, strident -music fretted upon my ear. Some were -green, some brown, both large and small, some -almost buff, tiny, and very agile. They were -not the only insects enjoying the sunlight, for -spiders, house-flies, now and then a bee, small, -gauzy-winged flies, and many a queer and, to -me, nameless thing, with nervous antennæ, -passed that way by wing or foot. At a spring -in the woods where I drank of icy water, countless -hosts of springtails or bristletails skipped, -in sprightly humor, over the leaves and the -surface of the pool. About noon I saw a -<span class="pb" id="Page_182">182</span> -dragonfly dart past, and later a solitary ant -crawl slowly across a patch of sand. No butterflies -came to me, yet they were still abundant -in Cambridge.</p> -<p>There was no chill in the air which surged -over the hilltop. It was soft and caressing, -yet so cool that thick clothing or constant exercise -was needed to keep warm. Its perfect -dryness made it seem less cool than it really -was. The sky was wonderfully blue, and it lent -its marvelous color to the lake. I have a friend -who says that March water is bluer than any -other. It certainly carries its blueness -straighter into the heart than any other, but as -I looked at Chocorua Lake from the hilltop it -seemed to me that it could not be any bluer -than it was, framed in glossy pines on the one -hand, and in golden brown and wine color on -the other. The wind was rough with the lake -this morning. Striking it suddenly at the far -north end, near where my well-loved home stands -silent and deserted in the old orchard, it darkened -the clear blue into angry flaw-lines and -hurried them down the long mile towards the -bridge, against which it hurled them in white-capped -waves. I laughed as I watched one of -the white-edged squalls pass down the length of -the lake, for it reminded me of a day in mid-winter -when I attempted to cross the lake near -<span class="pb" id="Page_183">183</span> -its middle, carrying my pet owl “Puffy” perched -upon my gun-barrel. A squall came over the -white ice, bearing stinging snow-dust in its van; -it caught Puffy from his perch and set him down -upon the ice with feet helplessly spread, and -then as he opened his wings and tail and struggled -in the breeze, it spun him southward, sliding -and rolling, poor wisp of feathers that he -was, until he was landed, more dead than alive, -in the woods on the southern shore.</p> -<p>The pines below my breezy hilltop tempted -me by their music into their aisles. Under -them was spread the new carpet of their needles, -dry, warm, and tempting as a couch of eiderdown. -The wind sang in their tops, oh so -sweetly, and it took me back to the moment in -my earliest childhood when I was first conscious -of that soft, soothing music. I do not know -when it was, nor where it was, nor how young -I may have been, but I can recall as from an -almost infinite distance the memory of a sudden -feeling of happiness at hearing the voice of the -pines, and knowing that it was something kind -and soothing. If we are in tune with Nature, -all her music can find a way into the heart and -satisfy something there which yearns for it, and -never can be wholly happy without it. The -man who trembles at thunder is more to be -pitied than the poor Esquimau who was frightened -<span class="pb" id="Page_184">184</span> -the other day by the crash of orchestral -music at a Boston theatre.</p> -<p>While I listened to the pines a chickadee sang -his phœbe-note. It was but once, but it told -of his happiness as he bustled about in the dark -pine wood from which warbler and vireo had -departed, and upon which before many days the -first snows of winter are to fall. Brave little -titmice! they are among the sturdiest of New -England’s sons.</p> -<p>In the heart of the pines stands a house. I -well remember the gray autumn morning when -three of us, on a Thanksgiving holiday, staked -out its foundation lines in the thin snow and -drifted leaves. We tramped back and forth -among the trees, now higher, now lower, then a -little to the left, then more to the right. The -peak of Chocorua must clear those monster -pines; that bunch of low pines must be left low -enough to give a free view of the large lake, and -finally the young trees rising on the left must -not on any account cover the charming glimpse -of the third lake with its grove. At last we -settled the spot, and drove our first stakes, fingered -the long brass tape and drove more stakes. -Our hands, ears, and noses were cold, but it -was rare sport settling just where that new home -should be planted among the singing pines.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig18"> -<img src="images/p184.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="695" /> -<p class="pcap">CHOCORUA AND DR. CHADWICK’S PINES</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_185">185</div> -<p>To this house, deserted like my own sunny -cottage, I took my way. Ascending its steps, I -stood within its lofty, granite-walled piazza, as -romantic a spot, with its three arched openings -facing westward, as a screened loggia overlooking -fair Maggiore’s azure waves. High above -and out of sight of the road, embowered in the -forest, and with the very essence of the exquisite -Chocorua landscape framed in its arches, this -house might well attract me and draw me, even -from the singing pines, to linger the rest of the -forenoon above its terraces. Bees and locusts -made music in the sunlight, flaming geraniums -bloomed at the foot of the castle wall, the perfume -of sweet peas still in full flower hung -lightly in the air, and upon one of the stone columns -of the arches, morning-glories, unharmed -by the several frosts which had wrought havoc -with other tender plants, turned their filmy blossoms -towards the sun. Society with its present -habits is to blame for the desertion of such a -home as this on such a day as this, when Nature -is at her loveliest. Why is it that all New -England which has brains, money, or philanthropy -thinks the city the one proper sphere for -life in all save a few weeks given grudgingly to -rest? The cities are too large, too rich in human -forces. They are debasing our New England -stock, draining away the best of our vitality -in their too nervous life. If a third of their -<span class="pb" id="Page_186">186</span> -population could be sown into the fallow places -in the hill country, their own competition would -become a less fatal flame, and the country districts, -instead of steadily degenerating in physical, -moral, and intellectual tone, would again -become prolific in healthy men and women.</p> -<p>So far as I know, the word “moor” is not applied -to any part of our New England scenery; -yet there are dry, comparatively treeless uplands, -wind-swept and dotted with bogs which closely -resemble English moorland. I climbed to the -level of one early in the afternoon and strolled -along its rough surface. At the first bit of bog -that I struck a wood-frog jumped across the -path. He was listless, and made but short -leaps. When I followed him he plunged beneath -a log which lay in the cold mud. Beyond, -on dry ground, a grouse rose noisily from -low cover and flew far before going out of -sight. As I crossed some stony ground a mouse -ran from me and hid between two boulders. -Blocking both entrances to his hiding-place -with my feet, I tilted one rock away from the -other. The mouse darted first towards one of -my feet and then towards the other. He dared -not cross either, for I kept them moving. So -he remained trembling in the middle. He was -<i>Hesperomys</i>, the deer mouse, big-eyed and -white-footed. I left him unharmed.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_187">187</div> -<p>Following the edge of my moor, I came to a -little glen which cut deeply into its side. A -few acres of bog fed a little brook that passed -through the glen on its way to the river. The -ravine was heavily wooded, mainly with tall and -unusually slender beeches. Descending into -this grove was like entering the halo which the -sunlight of Paris, shining through golden-tinted -glass, casts around the tomb of Napoleon in the -chapel of the Hôtel des Invalides. The rushing -of the wind in the dry leaves filled the glen -with sweet, soothing sounds; the sun warmed it -and suffused it with radiance; and a deep bed -of beech leaves gathered in a hollow offered a -couch too tempting to be passed by. Every -sense was gratified in this abode of music and -color, for a faint perfume came from the leaves, -telling of ripening and the fulfillment of nature’s -purposes. At ease in the drifted leaves, I -watched the tree-tops bending before the gusts. -One moment the golden roof of foliage concealed -the sky; the next, as every lofty head -inclined, wide areas of distant ether appeared, -only to vanish again under the rhythmic movement -of the trees. The gusts kept the air well -filled with falling, fluttering fragments of the -golden roof. Hundreds of leaves were often in -the air at once, parting company from hundreds -of thousands still upon the branches, but going -<span class="pb" id="Page_188">188</span> -to join legions already on the ground, waiting -there the soft tyranny of the snow.</p> -<p>In the midst of the beeches stood a lofty -hemlock. The owner of this wood had chosen -it for his castle. About thirty feet from the -ground at a point where several limbs diverged -from the main trunk a nest was securely fixed. -Perhaps an inexperienced eye would have taken -it for a bird’s nest. It may have been a bird’s -nest originally. Now the mass of dead beech -leaves heaped upon it and woven into its fabric, -making it a conspicuous object from every point -of view, proclaimed it to be the home of a gray -squirrel. Winds may blow, and rain, hail, and -snow fall, but that nest will rest secure against -the hemlock’s trunk, under the thatched roof of -hemlock branches. Early in September I found -a new nest of this kind in a large beech-tree, -and upon opening it made a discovery. The -compressed green beech leaves gave out a strong, -aromatic odor which I at once recognized as -one of which I had often obtained whiffs in -walking through the beech woods, but which I -never had been able to assign to any flower or -shrub.</p> -<p>In the lulls between the wind’s gusts I could -hear the tinkling of a brook at the bottom of -the glen. Peering into the gloom below, where -hemlock bushes overshadowed the stream’s bed, -<span class="pb" id="Page_189">189</span> -I sought for a gleam of water. Not a drop was -to be seen. I descended, following the sound -of the falling drops, and came to a perpendicular -ledge at the upper end of the ravine. There -was no mistaking the direction of the music; it -came from the face of the rocks and the pile of -débris at its bottom. Still not a drop of water -could be seen. The falling beech leaves had -completely covered brook and fall, pool and -rock, but behind their veil the water went on -with its singing. It will do the same, brave -little rill! when snow covers the leaves and ice -forms above and below the snow. The sweet -jingling notes will be muffled, but they will be -sung all the same.</p> -<p>Of course I drank from the brook, sweeping -away the encumbering leaves from the top of -the fall to get the water just where it rushed -most swiftly. Not to drink from a New Hampshire -brook is almost as much of a slight as not -to bow to a friend, or not to kiss a little child -when she lifts her face for the good-night caress -which she thinks all the world is ready and -worthy to give to little children. Refreshed, I -clambered up the other side of the glen and -regained the open moorland, and the glorious, -rushing wind. Across the valley the old river -terraces stood out as sharply as steps cut in the -face of the hill. To have cut those fair outlines -<span class="pb" id="Page_190">190</span> -there must have been more water flowing -out of Chocorua lakes in the olden time than -flows from them now. Perhaps in those days -Ossipee Lake washed these very terraces.</p> -<p>Coming to another deep cleft in the side of -the moor, I hesitated whether to run down one -grassy slope, a hundred feet and more, and then -up the other slope, or to go round. Precedent -decided me to go round. About six feet below -the edge of the bank a narrow well-trodden path -skirted the ravine, going to its head, crossing -at the same level and following along just below -the edge of the opposite bank. Sometimes a -well-turfed bank in a pasture where food is not -abundant will be scored by many paths of this -kind, one below another. They are made by -the cattle, for a cow never will go down a steep -incline if, without too great exertion, she can -keep her four feet approximately on a level.</p> -<p>When I gained the southern end of the -moor-like ridge, two villages lay before me, one -on the left, the other on the right. One was -the home of the dead, the other the toiling-ground -of the living. They can see each other, -and year by year the village on the hill grows -larger, and that in the valley grows smaller. -When the venerable village postmaster was -suddenly turned out of office a few years ago -against the public wishes, but in obedience to -<span class="pb" id="Page_191">191</span> -the infamous “spoils” policy, he was commiserated -with for his hard fortune. “Yes,” he said, -“it is hard, but I knew it was coming, and -bless your soul, the time is near when I shall -be turned out of this house too, and told to let -some other fellow rotate in and get warm. But, -my friend, there is a house of mine up yonder -on the hill where politics and money don’t -count, and when this world seems unkind I -look up there and say to myself, ‘Pretty soon, -pretty soon.’”</p> -<p>While waiting for the mail wagon to come -down the Ossipee road, over the red bridge and -up the hill to the store, I plucked individual -leaves from trees and bushes, and marveled over -their many ways of changing from pliant green -to crackling brown. One of the most brilliant -shrubs near the road was a blueberry. Its -leaves were crimson, tending towards scarlet, -and their surface was as brilliant as satin. The -blackberry, which in some lights seemed as -bright as the blueberry, was more of a wine -color, and it had a duller surface. Some of -the viburnum leaves were rich red on their upper -faces, but pale below, their mid-vein being -pink, and a greenish tone pervading their under -surface. Others, shaped like maple leaves, -were of a singular color,—a kind of pinkish -purple. An oak leaf, plucked from a young -<span class="pb" id="Page_192">192</span> -bush not many years out of the acorn, was the -color of newly-shed blood in its centre, but -many small detached areas upon it remained -green. From a sucker shoot of a poplar I gathered -several strangely effective leaves. One -was of sulphur yellow coarsely spotted with -black dots; another was blackish brown with -crimson veinings above, and clear yellowish -white veinings below,—a most unique combination. -From an adjoining poplar I picked one -uniformly black over three quarters of its area, -but blotched with vivid green near its apex. -Its veins were yellowish white both above and -below. The clusters of lambkill leaves were -very pretty. While the upper surfaces of the -leaves were faded vermilion or pinkish salmon -color, the under sides were buff, or very pale -sage green. The willow leaves were queer, -damaged looking things, a good deal nibbled by -insects and much splashed with dark brown -upon a yellowish olive groundwork. A bunch -of violet leaves were clear golden yellow, while -some of the more delicate ferns were nearly -white. Truly the botanists have many pleasant -problems before them if they are ever to ascertain -why some green leaves turn black, and -others brown, orange, yellow, red, purple, or -white.</p> -<p>An inspection of the mail led me to walk -<span class="pb" id="Page_193">193</span> -rapidly back to the Chocorua House and pack -my bag for a return journey to the city. As I -drove southward the mountains, seen across the -pine barrens, were veiled in haze. The wind -seemed chiding me for going away so abruptly -from this paradise of color. Again and again I -looked back at my favorite peaks and forests, -printing more and more deeply in my mind the -recollection of their noble outlines and remarkable -coloring. Finally from the platform of -the rear car I saw them over the Bearcamp -meadows, and above and beyond them, with its -cloud-cap just drifting away to the eastward, -Mount Washington, benignantly presiding over -the northern sky. Then the train rumbled -across the Bearcamp trestle and the shadow of -the Ossipee hills fell upon us and deepened into -night.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_194">194</div> -<h2 id="c13"><span class="small">CHOCORUA IN NOVEMBER.</span></h2> -<p>In Cambridge, Saturday, the 5th of November, -began its daylight in a driving snowstorm. -The long, dry, sunny month of October was, as -the farmers had prophesied, to be followed by -a real old-fashioned, early and hard New England -winter. By ten o’clock the warm sun and -brisk northwest wind had dissipated the snow, -and bad-weather prophets were silent. Not for -long, however, for at noon the ground was again -white, and as I crossed West Boston Bridge on -my way to the train, the Back Bay was swept -by a fierce wind which carried the spray from -its gray-green waves half over the bridge piers, -and into the level gravel walks on Charlesbank. -My friends looked at me pityingly when I said -that I was bound for the White Mountains, and -asked whether I was not going to take my snowshoes.</p> -<p>Oddly enough, on reaching Portsmouth, having -traveled to that point through dizzy myriads -of flakes of the stickiest kind of snow, I found -the sun brightly shining, and no snow visible on -the Kittery pastures. Not until we were within -<span class="pb" id="Page_195">195</span> -sight of the hills which bound the Bearcamp -valley on the south did snow again greet my -eyes, and then it was confined to the highlands.</p> -<p>My last trip had been such a revel in color -that I found myself noticing tints more than -other beauties in the ever-varying landscape -through which the train flew shuttle-wise. A -great change had come over the face of nature -in the fortnight which had fled since my last -visit. November was written in subdued tones -where October had burned before. The birch -groves were no longer filled with pale lambent -flames. Their yellow leaves had all fallen, and -their massed twigs needed the full power of the -sun to show that behind their dull gray shading -lurked the subdued color of the plum. Even -darker, and without warm undertones, were -the alder thickets, more black than gray. The -larches were still pure gold, wonderful in their -happy contrast to the pines and spruces. The -apple-trees retained their full suit of leaves, -sometimes touched with a golden light, often -perfectly green. Under them the grass was -generally as verdant as in spring. Barberries -hung in dense masses in their bushes; the -American holly berries blazed with scarlet, and -here and there in the dull forest a gleam of -crimson told of a blueberry or amelanchier bush. -As the train whirled across wood-paths, they -<span class="pb" id="Page_196">196</span> -showed as yellowish stripes in the forest. The -drifted beech leaves gave them tone. In the -gloom of the matted alders, fuzzy balls of soiled -wool seemed to have lodged. They were the -flowers of the white clematis, gone to seed. -Somewhat similar but thinner masses clung to -the stalks of the fireweed.</p> -<p>As the wind swept across a cornfield from -which all but the stalks with one or two flaxen -leaves had been stripped, the long leaves -streamed and flapped before the breeze like -yacht pennants. In the orchards piles of red -and of yellow apples shone in the sunlight, and -when one still depended from the tree it was as -bright as a gilt ball on a Christmas-tree.</p> -<p>The oaks still held their leaves stubbornly, -but the blood had gone from them and their -color was of tanned leather, deepening in places -to a dull maroon. The dry stubble fields, -closely cropped mowings, and rank meadows -were all aglow with evenly spread color. The -stubble fields were purplish, the fields pale -yellow, and the meadows deep straw color. -Masses of goldenrod stalks were well named, -for they were golden brown. Their leaves were -dull brown. If as the train dashed between -gravel banks I caught a flash of crimson on the -sand, I knew that blueberry bushes had caught -root there.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_197">197</div> -<p>The daylight faded early, but as the sun sank -it poured more and more color into the hills. -Reflected rays danced from the window-panes -of farmhouses on the high slopes to the east of -the track. Such glimpses of isolated buildings -have a flavor of home and snugness which no -city suggests. The absence of leaves and the -presence of many shadows cast by the low November -sun revealed more clearly than usual -the pleasing contours of glacial hills and their -eroded sides. Most of the gravelly products of -the glacier are graceful in outline, composed of -easy curves or gentle undulations. Not only -are the sky lines grateful to the eye, but those -which curve forward and back along the line of -vision have in them the element of beauty. -The cutting of banks by streams leaves many -a gentle terrace which advances, retreats, now -makes a bold front, the next moment shrinks -away in a bow-shaped bay. Ice and water seem -to abhor straight lines, but to love rhythmic motion. -Upon a small glacial mound shaped like -a beehive stood a single pine, brave-limbed and -lichen-grown. I have noticed it for years, and -something in its pose always suggests “The -Monarch of the Glen,” with head erect and -every sense alert. It was much fuller of animation -than the flock of dingy sheep which at first -sight I thought to be moss-covered boulders.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_198">198</div> -<p>The sun set not long after four o’clock, and -the sky borrowed from it fleeting rosy light. -Then the yellow-white steam from the engine -billowed past my window, and through it shone -the blue-white snow, making the steam seem -soiled. As I looked forward at fields which we -were approaching, no snow was to be seen, yet -as we passed them and I looked back upon the -northern side of their inequalities they were -wholly white.</p> -<p>When the lamps were lighted in the car my -eyes rested, fascinated, upon the gilded axe -which always hangs above the car door. Significant -emblem of our civilization, which cynically -takes unwarrantable risks with life, limb, -and property, in order that man may increase -his misery by perpetually hurrying!</p> -<p>The gleam of Six Mile Pond told me that the -train was in Madison. A moment later I was -standing in the crisp night air knocking for -supper at the tavern door.</p> -<p>When we say “It is two miles from Madison -to Tamworth Iron Works,” we do not tell the -whole truth. It would be better to add, “over -the top of Deer Hill.” For years Madison has -gone to Tamworth over Deer Hill, or else it -has stayed at home and wished that Deer Hill -was elsewhere. How long grim devotion to the -one occupied farm on Deer Hill will force the -<span class="pb" id="Page_199">199</span> -inhabitants of two townships to ignore the fact -that a level road could readily unite them remains -to be seen. Deer Hill given back to -Charles’s Wain as the only team enduring -enough to travel steadily over it would be Deer -Hill justly dealt with at last.</p> -<p>At seven o’clock I stood on the crest of this -stumbling-block to progress and gazed at its -view of sky and forest. The moon struggled -with eastern cloud-banks. In the north, white -clouds drifted over whiter mountain ridges. -Once the peak of Chocorua peeped through its -veil and caught upon its marble sides the radiance -of the coy moon. After following the -road to within a quarter of a mile of the -Iron Works, I left it and struck northwestward -across the moor towards the Chocorua House. -Suddenly I saw an object upon the level stubble -which suggested danger. For many years I -have lived in dread of meeting and being pursued -by a skunk at night. Had the moment arrived? -Edging away from the object, I watched -it keenly. Did it move? No. Yes! It was -turning its head towards me and lifting that -dreaded tail straight above its back. Still at -least fifteen feet from the beast, I kept steadily -on my way in a semicircle round it. The skunk -revolved, keeping his head towards me, and then -I saw his tail snapped forward irritably. I had -<span class="pb" id="Page_200">200</span> -reached a stone wall, and, springing upon it, I -hooted after the manner of owls, barked after -the manner of dogs, and then fled after the -manner of men. I neither saw nor smelt anything -more of the skunk.</p> -<p>My way took me into the golden beech wood -on the border of the moor. The moon, now -free from clouds, shed a soft, dim light into the -grove. Scarcely a leaf clung to the trees, but -upon the ground they were heaped up ankle -deep. As there had been crackling ice in all -the pools in the road, it was not wonderful that -the waters of the leaf-hidden brook were very -cold.</p> -<p>An hour after leaving Madison I stood before -an open birch-wood fire in Chocorua Cottage. -Not only did its warmth appeal to my cheeks -and fingers, but something in the whirl of its -flames and the snap of its sparks made my heart -beat more in tune with all the world.</p> -<p>The next morning I awoke at six o’clock and -at once opened my blinds and raised my shades -so that I could see the mountains both to the -north and to the west. Not a cloud or a suspicion -of haze marred the perfect blueness of the -sky or the distinctness of the outlines of hills, -trees, and boulders. The moon was still nearly -three hours from her time of setting, and her -light, almost as much as that of the unrisen sun, -<span class="pb" id="Page_201">201</span> -contributed to the serene glow which filled the -sky and fell softly upon the sleeping earth.</p> -<p>There is nothing in nature any whiter than -snow, and as the peak and bare upper ledges of -Chocorua were covered by an almost unbroken -envelope of snow, no alpine horn ever gleamed -with a fairer light than that which shone from -Chocorua’s summit. Paugus, Passaconaway, -and Whiteface are usually dark by contrast to -Chocorua, even in midwinter. To my surprise -they were almost as white as the marble lion -itself. Their spruces were coated with snow, -which had frozen in masses to the needles, effectually -covering the dark green by a gleaming -surface of white.</p> -<p>As the sun neared the horizon, a faint rosy -glow came into the western sky. Then it -touched the snowy peaks, leaving them pale -salmon color. Finally it crept down the mountain -slopes, changing the silvery gray of the -leafless forest masses into ashes-of-rose color, -delightful to the eye.</p> -<p>It was a winter landscape, yet as the sun -climbed higher into the cloudless sky, the soft -still air was caressing in its warm touch upon -the cheek. I looked curiously at the thermometer, -not knowing whether it would say 25° -or 60°. It stood at 30°, a temperature which, -with a Boston east wind and a rainstorm, is -<span class="pb" id="Page_202">202</span> -quite capable of freezing the love of life out of -one’s vitals. Feeling as buoyant as a cork, I -dashed off after breakfast in search of something -high to climb. An overcoat was unbearable, -and my jersey was dispensed with by ten o’clock, -leaving me comfortable in ordinary indoor costume. -The air seemed full of life-giving quality, -joy, health, hope. So thought the titmice, -robins, tree sparrows, juncos, and kinglets, all -of which were noisy and full of motion.</p> -<p>Speeding past the lakes, I stopped for a moment -in my own orchard to lament the death of -an osprey which I found at the foot of an apple-tree, -where some hunters had left him. It is -fortunate that all animals have not man’s propensity -for killing merely for the sake of killing. -Here was a bird of beautiful plumage, wonderful -powers of sight and flight, measuring only -five inches less than six feet from wing tip to -wing tip, practically harmless, and by no means -common in these mountains, yet after being shot -merely for love of murder, his body was left -where it fell, to feed skunks and foxes. Small -wonder that creation seems out of joint wherever -man’s influence extends.</p> -<p>My next stopping-place was the lonely lake, -now more lonely than ever, for not a bird flew -among its trees, and not a fin stirred in its green -waters. Upon its mossy bank, marvelous to -<span class="pb" id="Page_203">203</span> -relate, I found three fresh blossoms of the houstonia. -Like the sweet peas at my cottage, the -witch-hazel by the brook, and the tiny sprig of -goldenrod picked in the pasture, these frail -flowers had endured frosts by the dozen and a -recent fall of snow which must have buried them -several inches deep. Over them a red maple -was doing its best to keep them company, for -its crimson buds seemed as plump and full of -color as they ought to be next March. A -flower of another kind bloomed in profusion -upon the sand close to the lake’s rim. It was -like frosted silver in sheen, and the sunbeams -loved to play in its beautiful petals. How it -grows I know not, but it comes up from the -sand in a single night, rank by rank and cluster -by cluster, often lifting up great masses of sand -upon its spearheads. This flower is the ice -flower, whose wonderful armies of needle-like -crystals sprout under the influence of the frost -from every damp mass of sand or gravel, ready -to be crunched under foot in the morning as -horse and man pass over the uplifted roads.</p> -<p>In the first brook which I passed beyond the -pond I saw two small trout, the longer of the -two being not over an inch and a half from -snout to tail. They seemed to me to be a little -sluggish, or rather a trifle less instantaneous -than in warm months. Two or three green -<span class="pb" id="Page_204">204</span> -locusts were also evidently depressed by the cool -weather, and they played their tunes rarely and -without much spirit. Listening to them and -to the sounds which the wind made in a bunch -of dry brakes, I fancied that I saw in what -quarter the first grasshopper took his music -lessons. The rubbing together of the parts of -the withered fronds produced sounds almost -exactly like the locust’s strident playing.</p> -<p>Taking the Hammond path, I ascended the -eastern spur of Chocorua. The side of the -mountain was one vast bed of loosely scattered -leaves. Next spring each leaf will be pressed -so closely upon its neighbor that the veining of -one will be imprinted upon the face of the other. -Now they are still free to drift with wind eddies, -and to rustle noisily around the feet of the -passer-by. The smell of oak leaves, newly -fallen, is very powerful, and, except as a reminder -of autumn walks, too much like ink to -be pleasant. Among the fallen leaves the -bright green of checkerberry, club mosses, and -wintergreen showed now and then, while the -dark liver-colored leaves of a goldenrod contrasted -with the brown of the beech leaves.</p> -<p>I must have climbed fully eight hundred feet -from the level of the pastures before snow began -to appear along the path, and it was not -until the line of low spruces was gained that -<span class="pb" id="Page_205">205</span> -the snow was continuous or at all deep. No -sooner had I struck the snow area than I began -to find evidence of the passing along and across -the path of the creatures of the woods. In five -or six places a fox had followed the path for -several rods. Rabbits had crossed it over and -over again, and mice even had recognized it as -a thoroughfare and taken laborious journeys in -its drifts.</p> -<p>A few minutes past noon I reached the top -of Ball Mountain, or, as it is generally called, -Bald Mountain. Here the snow lay four to -eight inches deep upon everything except the -bare ledges, which were dry and warm. As I -gained the crest, a hawk sailed over me and out -into that sea of space above the valley. What -joy it must be to fly, and especially to soar and -float, in high ether, with scarce a muscle moving! -Suddenly a plaintive note fell upon my -ear, and, turning, I saw a bird about the size -of a robin flying northward. It soon vanished -in the distance, I meanwhile striving to recall -when, where, and from what bird I had heard -that sad cry before. Hoping to see more birds, -and seeking an uninterrupted view of the peak, -I climbed to the top of the ledges intermediate -between Bald Mountain and the foot of the -peak, and there, upon a broad, dry face of -granite, on the edge of the steep incline which -<span class="pb" id="Page_206">206</span> -reaches far down into the eastern hollow of -Chocorua, I rested and drew strength from the -perfect peace of my surroundings.</p> -<p>The only sounds which I could hear, and -they were only occasional, were produced by -the fall of masses of snow from spruce limbs, -and the sighing of the breeze in the tree-tops -far below me in the ravine. When the wind -ceased, the hush was wonderful. In so vast a -space it seemed as though some voice of nature -must make itself heard; but above, below, -northward towards Canada, eastward towards -the ocean, southward, where Winnepesaukee’s -waters were too dazzling to watch, and westward, -among the snowy ravines of clustered -mountains, all was absolute repose and silence. -Not a bird or an insect was to be seen, and the -stiff spruces were as motionless as the rock from -which they sprang. The peak was the most -forceful element in the landscape. It seemed -the embodiment of cold, silent strength. Nine -tenths of its surface were pure white snow, one -tenth black rock, whose steep faces or sharp -angles refused to hold the snow. Rising fifteen -hundred feet above the ledges on which I sat, -yet being not more than half a mile from me, -its massive presence was not only impressive -but oppressive. I felt as though it might fall -and crush me to powder.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig19"> -<img src="images/p206.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="672" /> -<p class="pcap">THE PEAK OF CHOCORUA FROM BALD MOUNTAIN</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_207">207</div> -<p>Across the eastern valley, filled with its white-stemmed -birches and poplars, rose a forbidding -line of snowy cliffs. Of all the buttresses which -prop the peak, this lofty ridge of nude rock is -the most inaccessible and sullen. Now and then -a bear is seen traversing its dangerous faces in -search of berries, but man rarely steps upon its -ever-visible but repellent heights.</p> -<p>Looking away from the sun, all the world was -white or gray; looking towards it, deep violet -tones predominated, while from between the -hills many lakes flashed towards me the slanting, -dazzling rays of the low-hanging sun. So -dark was the south that I found it hard to realize -that the hour was but one o’clock and the -sky cloudless. In six weeks the sun will be -even lower, the violet shadows deeper, and -midwinter will rule the whole of the frozen -land.</p> -<p>When I opened my lunch, a house-fly came -to share it with me. Omnipresent and much -enduring insect, for once he was welcome, and -I felt as though a companion sat with me. In -the rock upon which I rested there was a little -rift, filled with water upon which floated a fish-shaped -cake of ice. This was my punch-bowl, -and never thirst found sweeter, purer draught -for its quenching, than came from that heaven-filled -and frost-cooled cup. I wanted to bless -<span class="pb" id="Page_208">208</span> -it, but found it blessing me, for it was much to -me, while I was nothing to it. Rift and rock -were there before I took breath, and they will -be there centuries after I am a vanished mote -in the sky. Just as I left the ledge, homeward -bound, a bird call rang out sharply. I listened -and a low tremulous song came from the -spruces. Sweeping their serrated border with -my glass, I found the birds and recognized -them ere they flew, uttering the same sad plaint -I had heard an hour before. They were a pair -of pine grosbeaks, “winter robins” as the -farmers call them; one a male, with his rosy -breast, the other his Quaker mate. Flinging -themselves into space, they flew southwestward -till my glass could follow them no longer.</p> -<p>Passing through the beech woods on my way -down the mountain, I noticed how much more -firmly the leaves clung to the young trees than -to the older ones. Many of them, if pulled -steadily by the tip, tore sooner than give way -at the stalk. On oak and poplar sprouts or -suckers, the leaves remain much longer than on -old wood; they keep their rich coloring far into -November, and they are often very conspicuous -by reason of their great size.</p> -<p>I found more life stirring in these beech -woods than anywhere else. Squirrels both red -and gray were hard at work upon the ground, -<span class="pb" id="Page_209">209</span> -gathering winter stores. A fine gray, on seeing -me, scrambled to the high leafless limbs of an -oak, becoming there much more conspicuous -than he had been among the fallen leaves.</p> -<p>This autumn a farmer shot a gray squirrel and -hung it in his shed. The cat stole the squirrel -and shared it with her family. Next day, puss -went gray-squirrel hunting, and to the farmer’s -astonishment captured her game and brought -it home. The squirrel was so large that the cat, -to avoid tripping over it, walked backwards -much of the way, pulling it after her. Thus -far for her thriving family puss is said to have -secured six gray squirrels.</p> -<p>A friend of mine, while hunting this fall in -a grove of oaks, noticed a large gray squirrel -coming directly towards him through the woods, -pursued by a red squirrel. Chickaree soon saw -his danger and stopped, but the gray came -slowly on, as though searching for something. -The hunter stood motionless, wondering. Nearer -and nearer came the inquisitive squirrel, until it -reached the man’s feet and sniffed at his gun-stock. -Its eyes seemed to have been injured or -to be partially covered by a morbid growth. -The moment the man moved in an effort to -catch the creature alive, it bounded from him -and disappeared.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_210">210</div> -<p>The perfect clearness of the sky lasted until -nightfall, then a narrow line of golden orange -light separating a pale silvery sky from a deep -violet earth was all there was of sunset.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_211">211</div> -<h2 id="c14"><span class="small">AMONG THE WIND-SWEPT LAKES.</span></h2> -<p>The first thing which I saw as I opened my -eyes Monday morning was the tip of Passaconaway’s -pyramid, rosy with the sun’s earliest -rays, and hanging like a great pink moon between -the soft gray of a hazy sky and the cold -gray of the misty forests. It was a soft morning -with a southerly wind and a cloudy sky, -yet with a chill in the air which hinted of snow. -As the damp wind swept across the snow-covered -peak of Chocorua, its moisture was condensed, -and from the rock, trailing away northeastward -like a huge white banner, a cloud -streamer waved for an hour in the hurrying -wind. Then the peak was overcome by the -cloud and hidden for the rest of the day in a -slowly thickening and descending pall.</p> -<p>In all the years which I had spent in wandering -over these fair hills, I never had explored -Whitton Pond. Looking down upon it from -the snow-covered mountain yesterday, it had -seemed so pleasant to the eye that I determined -to view it from all sides, and to see the mighty -form of Chocorua reflected in its clear waters. -<span class="pb" id="Page_212">212</span> -Towards Whitton Pond, then, I directed my -steps this gray morning.</p> -<p>Taking the Conway road from the Chocorua -House, I walked northward upon it rather more -than three miles to what is known far and near -in this country as the Bell Schoolhouse in Albany. -Perhaps the bell uses its tongue in dark -nights when the wild storm-wind sweeps down -from Chocorua, and the forest groans under its -stripes. Certainly its tones are not heard in -the sunlit hours, as the bats in its belfry and -the spiders in its schoolroom can bear witness.</p> -<p>As I passed up the eastern side of Chocorua -Lake, under the great pines which guard its -shore, a flock of ducks rose from the water and -flew towards the south, then wheeling, returned -and vanished far in the north. There were -seven of them, six flying neck and neck in an -even row, and one lagging behind. The six -were apparently snowy white with dark markings -on heads and wings; the laggard was dark -colored.</p> -<p>One often hears in February and March that -signs of early spring are growing numerous, -that red buds are swelling on the maples, catkins -have come upon the alders, and that many -another shrub or tree is pushing out its new -life. Noticing the alder catkins swinging in -the wind, I measured several and found them -<span class="pb" id="Page_213">213</span> -already from an inch to an inch and a half long. -Some of the maples were noticeably ruddy in -tone, so thick and red were their buds. Lucky -it is for the grouse that buds do not wait for -winter to go, before they pack away the sweet -food of life under their snug jackets. The -grouse could give an eloquent lecture on the -pledges of the spring renaissance which are -made every autumn by the budding trees.</p> -<p>At the Bell Schoolhouse I took the right-hand -road, crossed the Chocorua River, a slender -run at this point, and almost immediately -after turned again to the right, taking an old -road leading eastward over the hills to Madison -village. The road was a new one to me, but I -knew that it led through one of the saddest -regions in the Bearcamp valley. A generation -ago the “North Division” was comparatively -thickly settled. More than a dozen comfortable -sets of buildings were tenanted on those sunny -slopes. Children flocked to the little school-house, -corn rustled in the fields, and farmer’s -“gee” echoed back to farmer’s “wah-hīsh” -from the plowings or wood-lot. Now the porcupine -and the skunk, the chimney swift and the -adder are the undisputed owners of the deserted -farms. The people have gone as though the -plague had smitten the land, and houses, barns, -fences, bridges, and well-sweeps are mouldering -<span class="pb" id="Page_214">214</span> -away together. Why is it? Ask the West and -the great cities, which between them have -drawn the young blood from New England’s -rural families, leaving the old and feeble to -struggle alone with life on the hills. A kindlier -region than this could be depopulated by -such a process.</p> -<p>The most remote and the highest farm in the -North Division shone, as we approached it, -like a brass button. Carpenters, painters, and -home-makers had been at work upon it until -the hills and trees knew it for its old self no -longer. Nevertheless it was as empty and -silent as the decaying farmsteads below. Gazing -from its terrace upon the far view of Ossipee -Lake, the broad Bearcamp valley, and the -semicircle of hills and mountains from Wakefield -to Chocorua, I understood why its present -owner came from the shores of Lake Michigan -to spend his summer in its beautiful quiet.</p> -<p>Behind this redeemed fragment of the North -Division rises a granite ledge, from which -matchless views of many mountains, lakes, and -sleepy hollows can be obtained. I found the -ledge covered with snow, and the spruce woods -on its steep northern slope as full of snow as -the thickets on Chocorua’s ridges. At this -season a slight elevation and shade make all the -difference between summer and winter.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_215">215</div> -<p>From the ledge I could see the whole of -Whitton Pond, lying just below me. It looked -like a silver Maltese cross with its four arms -reaching out to the four points of the compass. -A small island and one or two single rocks rose -from its surface. At least three bluff headlands, -pine-crowned and rock-faced, stood out -boldly into its waters. Just across its eastern -side, and due north from the elevation upon -which I was standing, rose an impressive hill -whose precipitous southern side was formed of -a series of polished ledges sloping directly -towards the deep waters of the lake. In the -depths below those ledges large trout are said -to live in a state of haughty contempt for all -except favored anglers. I once asked a native, -presumably not a favorite of the Whitton Pond -trout, whether he would advise me to go to the -pond fishing. Turning his gray eye upon me, -he said solemnly, “Young man, ef I had the -ch’ice of fishing all day in Whitton Pond or in -this sandy road, I’d take the road every time.”</p> -<p>A logging road led from the back of the ledge -down to the pond. In the dark spruces near -the water stood a tiny and dilapidated log hut -and stable. So small was the hut, it seemed as -though only one lumberman could have lived -there. From the hut the road led straight to -the lakeside, and to as lovely a view of the -<span class="pb" id="Page_216">216</span> -eastern flank of Chocorua as can be won anywhere. -All that I had imagined yesterday as -I stood on those far ramparts was now made -real. Here was the ruffled water, the pine-capped -headlands, the guardian ledges; there -was the stern fortress lifting its rock face and -ragged outlines high against the sky. As the -mists hurried over the peak, they suggested -smoke from cannon fired from this Gibraltar -of nature. Here and there spruces, standing -in the clouds upon the edge of the precipice, -looked like the dim forms of men guarding the -heights.</p> -<p>As the water was very low, a narrow pebbly -and rocky strip of beach offered an easy way -round the lake. I followed it through the eastern -coves to the northern shore, where the slippery -ledges, one above another, hung over me. -Many boulders of large size and odd outlines -lay upon the shore, with the waves raised by the -south wind splashing against them. Here the -beach failed me, and I had to force my way -westward through the woods and undergrowth -to the outlet of the pond. Considering that the -lake was about a mile square, the stream which -escaped from it was singularly small. I crossed -it with a single stride. At high water it is -probably much larger, for a dozen or more great -logs pushed far up on the rocks show that the -rivulet of to-day gives no suggestion of the force -of water sometimes at work.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig20"> -<img src="images/p216.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="665" /> -<p class="pcap">MOUNT CHOCORUA FROM WHITTON POND</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_217">217</div> -<p>From the outlet to the highway was less than -ten minutes’ walk, a footpath bringing me to -one of the many abandoned farms of unfortunate -Albany. Unfortunate no longer, I hope, -for with debt paid, taxes reduced, and lumbering -on the decline, the township ought to revive, -partly through ordinary settlement, but mainly -through the influx of city people to one of the -most beautiful spots in New Hampshire.</p> -<p>My walk back to the hotel took me round -Chocorua Lake, while pictures of Whitton Pond -were still vivid in my memory. I confess to a -sudden feeling of jealousy for the newly explored -pond when I looked at the simpler outlines -of my favorite water, and wondered how a -wooded island and bluff headlands would become -it. Whitton Pond is certainly too exquisite -a bit of nature to remain long a wilderness; -while to give up its lofty ledges to quarrymen -would be little less than a crime.</p> -<p>As I crossed the bridge between the lakes, -the coloring was full of sadness. The long-deferred -rain was coming across the mountains. -Their tops were concealed, and only the dimmest, -most tearful vision of their flanks remained. -Gray and cold, cold and gray, mountain, -sky, forest, and lake, all were the same. -<span class="pb" id="Page_218">218</span> -The cry of a pileated woodpecker and the sputtering -complaint of a Hudson Bay titmouse -rang in my ears. Birds of the north, strangers -to these cherished spots, why were they here? -Why were their voices full of weird warning? -The rain came softly, surely onward, over the -glassy water, and with a shiver I hurried towards -the fireside. After all, men, like birds -and insects, flowers and leaves, feel the chill of -autumn and tremble at it. Full as the season -may be of eternal promise, it is charged also -with a message of present death and decay. -Leaves wither and fall, flowers drop their petals -and turn to seeds, the locust dies in the grass, -the bird takes wing and saves his life by finding -a gentler clime in the far south, and man, if he -is to linger under Chocorua’s lee, must gather -his corn into barns, pile his shed full of wood, -and fortify his mind to endure long nights, intense -cold, deep snows, the wailing of wintry -winds, and the gruesome voice of the lake as the -ice throttles it. If the heart is brave and serene, -there is peace in the long nights, pleasure in -the cold, joy in snowshoe races on the snow, and -exhilaration in the wailing of the wind and the -moaning of the lake. As the viking exulted in -sailing his ship through the fierce gale of the -north, so his offspring can find joy in the wintry -breath of Chocorua.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_219">219</div> -<h2 id="c15"><span class="small">’LECTION DAY, ’92.</span></h2> -<p>Tuesday, the 8th of November, 1892, belongs -to history now, but when it began it was -only an ordinary ’lection day. Floods of night -rain had washed the high peaks clear of snow, -and at dawn the golden clouds swept eastward, -and the fairest of November days began its -course. All the horses and all the men turned -their noses towards the wooden town-house in -Tamworth village; and by nine o’clock long -lines of wagons streamed under the two campaign -flags, across the bridge over rushing Paugus -River, and up to the stores where the smoke -of pipes and the sound of laughter proclaimed -the swarming of man. It was an occasion of -more than usual interest, for not only was the -great ex-president to test his tariff-reform lance -against the silver shield of his once successful -rival, but New Hampshire in general, and Tamworth -in particular, were to try the Australian -ballot system.</p> -<p>“Now, Jim,” said the committee-man, “remember -to make a cross against the name of -every Democrat. Take your time, and look for -<span class="pb" id="Page_220">220</span> -the letter D. Wherever you see D, put down -your cross.” Then a sample ballot was displayed -to Jim, and that worthy child of Quebec -proved the truth of his assertion that he could -“read D in English evvy time, sir.”</p> -<p>Just before ten, the three stores gave up -their crowds in favor of the growing swarm in -front of the town-house. It was a strange commingling -of men. The bone and sinew of rural -New England were there, and so were the gristle, -the fat, and the lean. Men well past ninety -tottered feebly to the benches which flanked the -broad open floor of the hall. Young fellows, -just of age, stepped briskly in and went to the -platform to see that their names had been -duly added to the printed check-list of voters. -Gaunt, loose-jointed, thin-faced men, in worn -shoddy, the modern successor of honest homespun, -dragged themselves through the crowd, -answering salutations with grim indifference. -Big, burly men with broad, gray felt hats and -scarlet flannel leggings strode in more confidently, -fresh from the spruce woods. Well-dressed, -clean-shaven men with city hats and -big watch-chains shook hands with everybody, -and with a hand on John’s shoulder or Edson’s -elbow whispered a word in the young voter’s -ear. The New England farmer or lumberman -does not ride horseback. He probably knows -<span class="pb" id="Page_221">221</span> -how well enough, but his roads have no clay -mud, his wagon runs easily, so he drives instead -of riding. Not one man in fifty owns a saddle. -Who is it, then, that comes up the long street -at a breakneck pace, with flapping hat, trailing -whip, and rattling spurs? He rides well, and -has a dashing air about him strangely in contrast -to the slouch of the man who always drives, -with shoulders hunched and back curved. He -proves to be a city man who has had enough of -a ranch and is now extracting occupation from -a farm and summer boarders.</p> -<p>Now a silk hat and a satin necktie loom up -in the throng. They grace a sleek son of the -town who has a store “down country,” but who -comes home to vote. The silk hat looks -strangely out of place among the well-worn felts -and woolen caps which cover most of the heads -in the crowd.</p> -<p>The bell in the meeting-house tower moves, -and then its clang strikes harshly on the ear. -Half a mile away it would be sweet-toned; here -it is merely discordant. The men straggle into -the town-house in large groups, and soon the -room is crowded. Good air goes out by the -chimney when the smokers come in by the door. -The supervisors are in their seats, and an excited -discussion is taking place in which they -and many in the crowd join. An oldish man -<span class="pb" id="Page_222">222</span> -and a foreigner who served in the late civil war -has just produced his naturalization papers and -demanded to have his name placed upon the -check-list. The officers object, and point to the -book of statutes open before them, where a section -states that no name shall be added to the -list at this late hour except by way of restoring -a name wrongfully dropped from an earlier list. -The claimant declares that his name was or -ought to have been on an earlier list; a candidate -for office springs upon a chair and shouts -to the supervisors that he will “make it hot” -for them if they refuse the veteran his suffrage; -the crowd cheers, and the officers yield. Then -the warrant for the meeting is read, and immediately -after an elder offers prayer, the hats and -caps being doffed in obedience to a loud call of -“hats off.” The prayer is simple and earnest, -asking for help in a freeman’s highest duty. -A moderator is chosen, and he delivers a brief -and clear lecture upon the machinery of the new -ballot law. Then a resolution is passed with a -shout, allowing the old men to vote first, and -the graybeards are pushed gently forward to the -inclosed space in which the five little voting -booths are built.</p> -<p>The voters are kept waiting half an hour, because -at first no one can open the patent ballot -box, but at last it gives way to some persuasive -<span class="pb" id="Page_223">223</span> -touch and the day’s work is fairly begun. By -noon about fifty men have passed the guard, -taken their folded ballots, entered the little -booths, and spent from two to ten minutes each -in marking or trying to mark for their favorite -candidates.</p> -<p>“This is a great thing for the fools,” said an -old farmer; “they can look just as wise as the -wisest of us, but they nor nobody else will ever -know just who they voted for.”</p> -<p>One man, after entering the booth, came out -and said he wanted some one to mark for him. -“Step this way,” shouted the moderator, “and -take your solemn oath that you cannot read -your ballot and must have help in marking it.” -“I won’t swear to anything of the kind,” said -the man indignantly, and he went back to his -booth. The crowd became impatient at the -delay, and began to push hard for the narrow -entrance. Strong men cried out in pain or -anger; the stove tottered and part of the pipe -fell, scattering soot on the nearest heads; the -moderator thundered rebukes, and several men -went home disgusted with the new-fangled system, -only to be dragged back later by the committees -of their respective parties.</p> -<p>Back of the town-house, Paugus River, well -filled by the night’s rain and the melted snow -from the mountains, rushed noisily through its -<span class="pb" id="Page_224">224</span> -rock-choked bed. I escaped from the hustling -crowd, in the hot hall, and watched the eager -current till my eyes and ears were cleared of -smoke and empty laughter, and a taste of something -sweeter than politics was left on my -tongue. The river, with its bright water, was -following its course towards the Bearcamp and -the sea, because for time out of mind it had -flowed that way and knew no other. Most of -the men inside the hall were acting their parts -with much the same intelligence, and marking -wherever they saw the letter R, or the letter D, -not because they knew what those two great -letters were struggling for this day in all the -length and breadth of the Union, but because -for years they had worshiped the one and hated -the other with the fetich-maker’s fervor.</p> -<p>A bright-faced, blue-eyed committee-man, -just old enough to cast his first vote for his -party’s hero, came to call me to the dinner set -for those who had come from a distance to vote. -After dinner I took my share of the bone-crushing -process inside the hall, marked my long -ballot, and started at once for the city. First -my friend’s wagon rolled along the pleasant -Bearcamp valley to the pine plains. Turning a -little aside, we drove past White Pond, a shallow, -mirror-like lake in the heart of the plain, -framed in snowy sand and gaunt pines. The -<span class="pb" id="Page_225">225</span> -view of the Sandwich range across this lake is -exquisite at all times, but to-day, with the dark -blue water dancing towards us in thousands of -foam-capped waves, and the mountains standing -out sharply against the pale blue sky, it was -more than usually charming. Half a dozen -wood-ducks were floating in the midst of the -restless waves, not far from the shore. They -paid no heed to our wagon as it crept through -the sand on the beach.</p> -<p>When we reached the West Ossipee stage -road I bade my friend good-by, and strolled towards -the station alone. The south-bound train -was not due till five, and it was now only half -past two. The railway track was not more than -half a mile distant across the pine plains, so, -leaving the muddy road, I passed into the pines, -following an obscure wood-path.</p> -<p>Presently the path became plainer, and as I -glanced along its vista, my eye caught a flash of -bright yellow gleaming from something at a distance. -The object was shaped like a chimney, -but it seemed to spring from the ground among -the scrub-oaks. The path began to descend, at -first gradually, then more abruptly, and I discovered -that there was winding through the -barrens ahead of me a small river, which a -moment’s consideration told me must be the -Chocorua River, on its way to the Bearcamp. -<span class="pb" id="Page_226">226</span> -Beyond the river was a small clearing and in it -stood a red and white house with brilliant yellow -chimneys. Then the land rose again abruptly, -inclosing the little meadow and its cottage between -high walls of sand, scrub, and pines.</p> -<p>Surprised to find an inhabited house in the -heart of the plains, where I had supposed nothing -but mayflowers and chewinks lived to -break the monotony of scrub and pine, I pushed -on to learn more of the place. When the path -came to the river it crossed by a rustic bridge -formed of a large bow-shaped tree with pieces -of board nailed to it, and a strong hand-rail -braced among its broken branches. The bridge -was really artistic, as well as ingenious in construction. -From its farther end I could see the -whole of the tiny valley of which the mysterious -house was the gay capital. Five or six acres -of grass-land and pasture were surrounded by -woods and sand hills. Three cows fed along -the river bank. Near the house was a neatly -fenced garden, and as I came to the fence I -found it crossed by a real stile with three steps -up and two steps down, and a rail to lean upon.</p> -<p>My approach had, ere this, attracted the attention -of the inhabitants of the hidden valley, -and five heads were visible at windows, house -angle, and fence corners. I crossed the stile -and gained the little piazza. The garrison -<span class="pb" id="Page_227">227</span> -massed around its commander and mother, who -was ironing a white apron on the kitchen table. -Strong, plump, and smiling, she was proud of -her little army,—a boy of fourteen, with soft -black eyes, black hair, and the rich color of the -Acadian peasant glowing on his cheeks; three -tow-headed girls, with their mother’s blue eyes, -and a fifth, a girl of two summers, with beauty -and dignity enough for a duke’s darling. No -overtures of mine were sufficient to conquer -this haughty little being’s reserve. She would -have nothing of me, and finally intimated a -desire that I should move on, and leave her -undisturbed in her apple-eating. This I did, -taking a farewell look at the cozy house from -the crest of the sand-hills which rose between -it and the railway. From the ridge I could see -many a mile of forest, and many a mountain -peak, none fairer than Chocorua. A grouse -rose from the scrub at my feet, and flew nearly -an eighth of a mile before alighting.</p> -<p>The little child’s beauty haunted me as I -strolled down the railway track, and I wondered -what her future would be if she grew up -in that snug nook in the woods and sand; what -her character would be with its mingling of Celtic, -Gallic, and Saxon elements; frozen in the -northern winter and burned under the hot summer -suns of the Ossipee plains.</p> -<p>At last the train came and bore me away -<span class="pb" id="Page_228">228</span> -towards the city. The sun sank in orange -splendor behind the Ossipees, and then the -night overwhelmed color and form in its shadows, -and left the mind freer in its musings. -What had the day brought forth at the polls? -Had the party of past glories and present decay -won another of its wonderful series of victories, -or had the people risen in their might and -spoken for reform? I hoped for some gleam of -news before the journey was over, but Portsmouth, -Newburyport, Salem, and Lynn were -all passed without tidings of what the day had -done. Even in Boston, with its narrow streets -filled with restless rivers of men and women, -there seemed to be no word of victory or defeat.</p> -<p>At half past ten I reached a small room high -in one of the great newspaper offices on Washington -Street. Its windows looked out upon -a strange sight. Far below me was a vast expanse -of human heads upon which shone the -bluish white glare of the hooded electric lamps. -As white bubbles, densely spread upon the pale -green of the ocean’s water in some rock-rimmed -grotto, surge now out, now in; to left, to right; -advancing, retreating; crowding or separating; -so those countless human heads swayed first one -way, then another, moved by fickle eddies and -forces hard to understand. Wild cries came -from the crowd, cheers, jeers, and yells of pain -or brutal merriment.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_229">229</div> -<p>Inside the room the wearisome clicking of a -telegraph operator’s machine charmed a circle -of eager men and women. As sheet after sheet -was written by the operator, they passed from -hand to hand. Some of those present read -them nervously, others, really intensely concerned, -seemed almost indifferent. Now and -then hearty applause greeted a dispatch, or -deep regret was expressed at some friend’s defeat; -but as a rule the fragmentary news was -received silently. Midnight passed, and then, -as the morning hours wore on, we knew that -the people had achieved one of the most remarkable -transfers of political power ever accomplished -in the Union. Still, the result in Massachusetts -was in doubt, and even those who -watched until dawn finally sought sleep without -knowing how the smaller cities had settled the -great governorship contest.</p> -<p>Before sleep came to me, a panorama of the -day swept in feverish review across my closed -eyelids. I saw the surging mob in Washington -Street, the group around the telegraph machine, -the motley crowd in the Tamworth town-hall, -the baby beauty of the Ossipee plains, and then, -like a benediction, came a vision of Chocorua, -snow-capped and immutable in a pale blue sky, -with the rosy light of the clear November morning -flooding its wondrous peak.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_230">230</div> -<h2 id="c16"><span class="small">A WINTRY WILDERNESS.</span></h2> -<p>North of the Sandwich Mountains, inclosed -by a circle of sombre peaks, there once lay a -beautiful lake. Centuries ago its outflowing -stream, now called Swift River, cut so deeply -between the spurs of Chocorua and Bear mountains -that the greater part of the lake drained -away into the Saco at Conway, leaving its level -bed a fair and rich-soiled intervale.</p> -<p>By the road upon which the lake went out -man in time came in, and founded in the bosom -of the spruce-grown mountains a small but -comparatively prosperous settlement. Having -seen this hidden valley in summer, and taken -account of its rare beauty and its remoteness -from the wearisome machinery of the world, I -yearned to know its winter charms, feeling sure -that they would surpass those of summer as the -fairness of snow surpasses the fairness of grass. -Accordingly, in the latter part of December, -1891, I went by rail with a friend to Chatauque -Corner, and thence by sleigh up the weird pass -between Chocorua on the south and Moat and -Bear mountains on the north, gaining at nightfall -<span class="pb" id="Page_231">231</span> -a warm haven in one of the snug farmhouses -in the middle of the intervale.</p> -<p>The township of Albany knows no priest or -physician, squire or shopkeeper, and in its coat -of arms, if it had one, the plow and rifle, axe -and circular saw, would be quartered with bear -and porcupine, owl and grouse. From the head -of the intervale the people are forced to travel -nearly thirty miles to reach and bring home -their mail and groceries. In spite of these -drawbacks, the permanent residents are intelligent, -thrifty, well-housed, and well informed -of the world’s doings. Though their only road -to the outside is long and rough, they let no -moss gather on it in summer, and no snowdrifts -blockade it in winter.</p> -<p>Setting out for this far valley in midwinter, -I felt something of the explorer’s thrill as he -turns towards the unknown, and leaves home -and comforts behind. The distant and the difficult -of attainment are always seen by the mind -through a golden haze, and although no fair -Lorna drew me to her rescue, and no lawless -Doones barred my way through the grim passes -which led to the valley, romance and the spice -of danger seemed mingled with my enterprise. -As the journey progressed, and one stage of it -after another slipped past, unreal gave way to -real, and commonplace supplanted marvelous. -<span class="pb" id="Page_232">232</span> -Even when night fell, as we entered the valley, -the light which gleamed afar through the -spruces told of hospitality as truly as the sleigh’s -ample furs spoke of comfort, and the keen wind -of health.</p> -<p>We reached the valley on the evening of Saturday, -December 19, and enjoyed every moment -of our stay, which was prolonged until -Saturday, the 26th. From my journal, written -on the evening of each day, I take the following -account of our wanderings.</p> -<p>We left Chatauque Corner (Conway) at three -o’clock, well packed in the fur robes of a comfortable -two-seated sleigh and drawn by a -skinny graduate of a race-course. It was an -ideal winter afternoon, blessing an ideal Northern -landscape. There were the broad Saco intervales -flat with snow, the pale blue sky with -a fringe of cloud-banks, and between intervale -and sky, mountains of marble and ramparts of -dark evergreens. Straight up the Saco valley -the immense mass of Mount Washington rose -against the sky. It was wholly covered by -snow. On its left, Moat, like a breaking wave -of the sea, was close at hand. On its right, -Carter Notch, with walls of dull purplish-black -spruce, reached to where stately Mount Pequawket -reared its dark cone on high. The -Saco splashed in its rocky bed. Every boulder -was glazed with white ice, and from the two -banks of the stream, borders of ice reached -towards each other, half concealing the greenish -waters which lapped their edges.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig21"> -<img src="images/p232.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="752" /> -<p class="pcap">“MOAT, LIKE A BREAKING WAVE”</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_233">233</div> -<p>The sleighing was excellent. Not more than -eight inches of snow had fallen during the week, -and it was the first enduring fall of the season. -It had been followed by a dash of rain and then -a sudden freeze. After going a mile on the -North Conway road, we turned to the left into -a road leading westward towards the narrow -pass between Chocorua and Moat. The immense -crags of Moat frowned upon us. Then -we plunged into a pine forest and felt the first -chill of night. As we sped through the shadow, -we passed the skinned carcass of an ox hung by -its fore-legs to the limb of a pine. A strange -slaughtering-place, and one to tempt sniffing -foxes when night falls. A mile farther on, the -skull of a bear grinned on the tip of a pole in -the brush fence by the roadside.</p> -<p>Music sounded in our ears, and far below the -narrow road, which was grooved in the mountain-side, -we saw Swift River plunging from -ledge to pool on its way to the Saco. The Saco -had seemed wild when we saw it in Conway intervale, -but this stream’s madness left it placid -by comparison. Two steep slopes, glare with -crusted snow, led down to the narrow channel. -<span class="pb" id="Page_234">234</span> -At their foot boulders of every shape and size -fought the progress of the water. The stream -dashed itself against them, hurling spray into -the air; the spray fell upon the snow and froze, -fell upon the boulders and froze, or drained -back into the stream, freezing in icicles of marvelous -forms. The water, colored doubtless by -the mosses and weeds below its surface, was -green,—a cold, pale green,—with something -of the cruelty of a winter ocean in its tones. -Now and then we met and passed sleds heavily -laden with lumber or logs. One load of birch -logs was on fire at the hinder end, and the driver -was warming his hands at the blaze. A few -poor farms lined the road at points where small -patches of tillable land were to be found between -the rocky fingers of Moat. As we passed -one of these farms a flock of two dozen or more -snow-buntings rose from a field full of tall weed-stalks -and whirled over us singing. Their -sweet notes fell on us as holy water falls on a -kneeling congregation.</p> -<p>The road grew steeper, and then it crossed -the river, passing through a huge covered -bridge, and soon we found ourselves inside of -the portals of Chocorua and Moat, with the -high ridge of Bear Mountain, covered with -black spruces, barring our westward way. The -wall of sullen forest seemed without a cleft, yet -<span class="pb" id="Page_235">235</span> -the raging river which met us told of a way -somewhere, to be found by retracing its channel.</p> -<p>In the midst of this gloomy hollow in the -hills we found a slab village. A dozen or fifteen -houses stood here, but no smoke curled -from their chimneys. Last September every -house was occupied; now the foxes roam through -the deserted settlement unmolested. The sawmill -which had created the village had been -burned and the whole population had vanished -almost as swiftly as the smoke of the ruins. -Not so the hideous scars left by the lumberman’s -axe. They will remain for many a day.</p> -<p>By a series of sharp ascents we gained and -passed through the rift in the mountain wall -made centuries ago by the imprisoned waters. -In this rift at the eastern foot of Bear Mountain, -only a few steps from the roadside, -are the picturesque falls of Swift River. The -treacherous ice and the gathering darkness forbade -our going to the giddy margin of the fall, -and we dashed on into the hidden valley, the -narrow, mountain-girdled intervale of which we -were in search. As we left the forest fringes -of Bear Mountain behind us and emerged in -the plain, a gorgeous winter sunset gave us -welcome. Over the blue of the upper sky, in -which Jupiter alone sparkled faintly, were scattered -countless flakes of rosy cloud. Below -<span class="pb" id="Page_236">236</span> -them a broad black band of cloud cut the sky -at the level of several mountain peaks, and below -this sinister bar, showing only in the gaps -between the mountains, was a space of greenish -silver, into which thousands of spruces reared -their slender spires.</p> -<p>Taking fresh courage, our horse carried us -over the fifteenth mile at racing speed. The -road was level. On the right the flat, white -intervale shone in the pale light as in distant -ages the face of the great mountain lake shone -in silent winter nights. Westward, across the -end of the intervale, were Tripyramid, Kancamagus, -and Osceola mountains; northward, -Green’s Cliffs, Carrigain, Lowell, Owl’s Head, -and Tremont Mountain stood shoulder to shoulder -in double rank. Behind us, dark Bear -Mountain concealed Moat, while spurs of Chocorua -reached down to the road. On the left -was Paugus, crouching at the foot of Passaconaway, -which dominated over the valley with -gloomy majesty. A bright light gleamed -through the spruces, the Carrigain House lay -there between black forest and pale snow, Mayhew’s -lantern swung to and fro, and his deep -voice welcomed us to his cheerful home in the -heart of the wintry wilderness.</p> -<p>Those who live in the city have an idea that -it is hard to keep warm in these northern farm-houses, -<span class="pb" id="Page_237">237</span> -with their single windows, thin walls, -and wood fires. They are wrong. There is a -degree of heat attainable in a small room, armed -with an air-tight stove, which burns birch sticks -or slabs almost as fast as they can be fed to it, -that is able to hold its own against the equator -at midsummer. It takes courage, on a cold -morning before sunrise, to leave a warm bed to -start a fire in one of these stoves; but when the -fire is fully aroused, cold is put out of the question, -or at least out of doors.</p> -<p>After a hot supper we put on our coats and -furs and went out into the night. I had the -same feeling of reverence and quiet that I have -in going into a dimly-lighted cathedral. The -stars flickered on high, the snow gleamed below, -on every side mountain peaks guarded the narrow -valley. In the spruce woods, which reach -from the road back to Paugus, the darkness was -intense. We listened. At first there seemed -to be no sound to hear. Then the whisper of -Swift River came out of the north, and the bark -of a dog far up the valley told of a fox prowling -too near the farmyard. Suddenly, from a bank -of silver light back of Carrigain, two long -tongues of pallid fire shot upward into the sky -and trembled there, only to disappear as -abruptly as they came. Although the dim auroral -glow stayed in the north for some time, I -saw no more radiating light.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_238">238</div> -<p>It was but little after eight o’clock when -we sought sleep and found it quickly between -feathers below and mighty piles of blankets and -comforters above.</p> -<p>Untroubled moonlight flooded Swift River -intervale all night, and there was still more of -moonlight than of daylight when our host came -into our room in the morning to light our fire. -The winter working-costume of our host deserves -mention. His brown cardigan jacket -was not remarkable, but his legs were marvelously -encased. They began at the body with -ample woolen trousers, half way between the -hip and knee gave way to tightly-fitting scarlet -wrappings which reached to low rubbers, covering -the feet. Nimble of foot, and of wiry frame, -the wearer of these remarkably unpuritanical -nether garments was a most enlivening figure -in the snow.</p> -<p>Encouraged by our fire, we arose with the sun. -The mountains in the north were bathed in rosy -light. Dark as were their forests, each of these -mountains presented snow-covered ledges, or -avalanche scars white with snow. Upon these -white surfaces the sunlight fell with that soft -blush which makes a winter sunrise so charmingly -full of promise. We hastened out of -doors as soon as dressed, and were at once -greeted by joyous voices. A red squirrel in -<span class="pb" id="Page_239">239</span> -the dark spruces was whirling his watchman’s -rattle; far away in the forest a woodpecker was -drumming on a resonant tree-trunk; but near -at hand, only across one snow-covered field, a -chorus of bird voices quivered in the still, cold -air. The air was cold, that was true. Zero -was the point the mercury held to, and as we -took long breaths of the pure air we spouted -forth columns of white steam through our ice-hung -beards. Trotting up the road, we sought -the birds. We found them at the next farmhouse, -perched by dozens on plum-trees, maple -saplings by the road, and on the tips of a row -of spruces opposite the farmyard. Some were -in the road, others in the dooryard on the soiled -snow where oxen had stood. In all, over a -hundred were present. As we drew near, they -rose and flew in waving circles over us, every -bird singing until the whole air seemed tingling -with sound. Then they came down in undulating -lines, curves, angles, and plunges, which -turned aside into a second flight in the sunlight. -As they settled in groups in the various trees, -I swept my glass over one cluster after another. -Crossbills were the most numerous species, with -goldfinches a close second, and pine finches -third. The crossbills were in all stages and -conditions of plumage, from rich red males blazing -like dull coals plucked from the fire, to -<span class="pb" id="Page_240">240</span> -dingy brown. No white-winged crossbills seemed -to be among them. Three months before, on a -cold dewy morning in September, I stood on -this spot and saw a flock of thirty crossbills in -these same trees. Then a number of them were -feeding in the edge of the pasture at a place -where cattle had been salted in a shallow trough. -I saw the birds tearing off fibres from the wood -of the trough, so eager were they to get the salt -which the wood had absorbed. This morning -the salt trough was covered with snow, save one -edge which protruded; but all around it the -crossbills had trodden the snow into a path, -showing that they were still salt-hungry. Acting -upon this hint, I sprinkled the ground with -grain and rock salt; but although birds were in -all the trees, they paid no heed to my offerings.</p> -<p>After watching the crossbills for nearly an -hour we walked westward. The birds had been -more restless than we. Few of them remained -still more than two or three minutes at a time. -With sharp calls the crossbills would dash off, -followed by the finches, and together, or in scattered -detachments, they would wheel from one -quarter of the heavens to another, perhaps returning -in a moment to the same perch, perhaps -vanishing in distance, not to reappear for many -minutes. All the time that they were on the -wing the air was full of their fragments of music.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_241">241</div> -<p>Our way led for a mile through the level -fields of the intervale. Five or six farmhouses -or wood-cutters’ huts faced the straight road. -At almost every house a few birds were seen, -probably parts of the main flock. We also -caught a glimpse of a large flock of snow-buntings -flying helter-skelter over a field where yellow -grasses were waving above the snow. At -length our road came to an end at the banks of -Swift River near the upper end of the intervale. -The river was shallow, and so was a broad -brook flowing into it at this point. The latter -we found no great difficulty in crossing dry-shod, -by going from one pile of stones and ice -to another. Beyond the stream we entered a -bit of primeval forest, only partly destroyed by -lumbermen of an earlier generation, who seem -to have been less grasping than their successors. -In these woods we heard bird voices, and recognized -the “<i>quank, quank</i>” of the red-bellied -nuthatch, and the “<i>chick-a-dee-dee-dee</i>” of the -titmouse. To call them nearer I hooted like -an owl, and soon after, sharp alarm whistles -almost exactly like those of a robin came from -some unknown birds in a bunch of firs at a distance. -Upon hooting again, I was pleasantly -surprised to get a reply from a barred owl. A -moment or so later we heard blue jays scolding -him not far away.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_242">242</div> -<p>After strolling through these woods and along -the edge of Sabba Day Brook for an hour we -turned towards home, treading in our previous -footprints and thus avoiding crashing through -the brittle crust of the snow. On reaching the -spot where the owl had hooted, I used my -metallic bird whistles and drew a crowd of -chickadees, kinglets, nuthatches, and blue jays. -Then I hooted, the jays scolded noisily, and -soon the owl replied. He came nearer by degrees, -I hooting occasionally, he frequently. -Finally he alighted in a tree just over us, but -saw us at once and flew away. I continued -hooting and he replied again, and came back -within sight. Whenever he moved, the jays -pursued him scolding, and they were still watching -him when we resumed our march towards -home.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_243">243</div> -<h2 id="c17"><span class="small">CLIMBING BEAR MOUNTAIN IN THE</span> -<br />SNOW.</h2> -<p><i>Monday, December 21.</i> The moon ate up -the clouds during the night, and at dawn the -only remnants of what the evening before had -looked like a storm were the cloud-caps upon -Tripyramid and Kancamagus, and a band of -mist across Church’s Pond at the western end -of the intervale. We were dressing about -seven o’clock when our host came to our door, -saying, “If you want to see a fox, come -quickly.” I ran into the east room and caught -a last glimpse of Reynard trotting briskly over -the snow towards the rising sun. He seemed -to be following a scent which went in a somewhat -wavy line across the field. At eight -o’clock, just as we were striding up the road to -pay a visit to the crossbills, a wild cry rang -from the forest and echoed from end to end of -the valley. It was the voice of the timber-eater, -coming northward by his tortuous path from -Upper Bartlett, and calling for his day’s food. -The men at the lumber cars near our house -bustled a little, and then started down the track -<span class="pb" id="Page_244">244</span> -to see the engine come in. On its arrival one -heavily laden car was attached to it, and the -train, thus made up, at once started back. -Meanwhile, we had met two tree sparrows by -the roadside and seen our crossbills and goldfinches -on their favorite trees. They had, apparently, -eaten none of the cracked corn sprinkled -for them upon the snow. As the train was -about to start, we boarded the engine and gained -a promise from the engineer to let us out at the -foot of Bear Mountain. Crossing Swift River, -the train entered the spruce forest and began -its winding journey towards Upper Bartlett. -With my head out of the left-hand window, I -absorbed all the novelty and beauty of the -scene. Inside, the engineer sat at his window -with his earnest eyes looking up the track, his -strong hand upon crank or lever, and his face -grave and quiet. The fireman poured oil into -the sucking cups above the boiler; then he -clanked the chain of the furnace door, peeped -into the raging fire within, hurled into it a -shovelful of coal dust, rammed it home with -the poker, worked the movable lever which -dumped ashes, and again poured oil into the -sucking, choking cups.</p> -<p>Outside, the spruce forest hemmed us in, but -rising above it headland after headland of black -rocks, snow-incrusted ledges, and lofty spruces -<span class="pb" id="Page_245">245</span> -came into view, frowned upon us, and were left -behind. A flock of blue jays crossed in front -of the engine, a red squirrel whisked along a -log by the track. Now the rails sloped up so -that the engineer increased his power, then the -track fell away so that all power was cut off. -Trestle after trestle was crossed, strange piles -of bark-covered logs which groaned under our -weight as we rolled over them.</p> -<p>After traveling four miles to get ahead less -than two, the engineer stopped for us to begin -our climb up Bear Mountain. He leaned out of -his window, giving us advice and wishing us a -fair trip. Then he applied the power, and the -great mass moved on through the notch towards -Upper Bartlett. This short piece of rough road -is operated solely to carry out lumber and logs; -but if people wish to ride, they are taken without -charge. It is said that if the road refused -to take them they could compel it to run passenger -trains.</p> -<p>The point at which the kindly engineer had -stopped to leave us was the lower end of a series -of lumber roads leading to the upper slopes of -Bear Mountain. The mountain, once covered -with an immense spruce forest, has now been -stripped of the greater part of its valuable timber. -Beginning at the main road in which we -stood, dozens of minor roads held the mountain -<span class="pb" id="Page_246">246</span> -in their embrace. They reminded me of the -tentacles of an enormous devil-fish. Near the -focus of all these roads we found a log cabin -and stables. The cabin was one of the best I -have ever seen. It was about sixty feet long, -and contained a room at each end and roofed -space in the middle open at front and back. -Near the house we heard bird voices, and I at -once used my Spanish whistles. The effect was -excellent. Four or five red-bellied nuthatches, -one white-bellied, and a small flock of pine -finches responded. The siskins were very noisy -and quite restless. They were feeding on the -seeds and buds of a tall birch. Leaving the -hut at nine o’clock, we strolled up the snow-covered -roads. The voices of birds were ever -in our ears. Squirrel and rabbit tracks, with -now and then the tracks of a fox, followed or cut -the roads. The snow was five or six inches in -depth and covered by a thin and brittle crust. -In many places numbers of well-filled beechnuts -were strewn upon the ground. This is beechnut -year, and the squirrels have more than they -can pick up. The snow in the road was easy -to walk upon, the air was mild, the sun warm, -the spruces rich with olive light and brilliantly -contrasted with the deep blue sky against which -our mountain towered. On each side of the -narrow way “top wood” and branches were -<span class="pb" id="Page_247">247</span> -piled in ramparts. The many roads reaching -up the mountain are in places set so closely together -that their ramparts of top wood touch -each other, forming almost impassable barriers.</p> -<p>It was in one of these tangles that I discovered -two small woodpeckers at work tapping -upon the trunks of two unhealthy spruces -spared by the axe. I saw at a glance that the -birds were unfamiliar in coloring, and I crawled -in among the top wood to examine them more -closely. To whistles, hooting, and squeaks they -paid no attention, but kept on hammering the -trees until small flakes of loose bark flew at -every blow. My crashing through snow and -branches startled one bird, but the other stood -his ground until I got within about fifteen feet -of him. My glass brought out every detail of -his plumage. Upon his head was a yellow cap, -his throat was snowy white, his sides were -finely, delicately barred with black and white, -his back was largely black, but down his spine -ran a belt of black and white cross-lining. Instead -of having four toes like the downy and -other common woodpeckers, this stranger from -the north had but three toes. He was the ladder-backed -woodpecker of the great northern -forests. During the twenty minutes that I -watched him he made no vocal sound, but -worked incessantly, tearing away bark, and -<span class="pb" id="Page_248">248</span> -drilling into the trunk of the spruce. When -he had inspected the tree to its highest part he -flew several rods to rejoin his mate.</p> -<p>At last the roads ended and we entered the -remnant of dark forest which crowns the mountain. -There was a chill in the gloomy shades. -The snow was softer and deeper here. It covered -innumerable boulders closely wedged together -between the stems of the spruces. On -the sides of these rocks we could see delicate -mosses imprisoned in the ice and snow. At -frequent intervals we encountered masses of -fallen timber wrecked by hurricanes. Another -obstacle to our ascent was the dense growth of -young spruces which in places made walking -almost impossible. In the edge of an open -space in this forest we called together the birds -by means of my whistle. A flock of juncos -appeared in a pile of top wood; red-bellied nuthatches -came and clung head downwards on the -nearest trunks and <i>quanked</i> at us, kinglets bustled -in, peeped at us, and bustled out, a dozen -or more red crossbills alighted close above us -and to our satisfaction made the note which -had so puzzled us yesterday and which sounds -like the robin’s alarm-note. Best of all, a flock -of sixty pine siskins came into the nearest trees, -and one or two of them came down to the level -of our heads and questioned us plaintively. -<span class="pb" id="Page_249">249</span> -The body of sweet sound made in a conversational -way by these gentle, cheerful little birds, -was amazing.</p> -<p>We reached the summit at about noon, and -were fully repaid for the three hours’ climb. -During the ascent, charming views of Passaconaway, -Tripyramid, Kancamagus, and the dazzlingly -white fields of the intervale had greeted -us whenever we stopped to rest. Now were -added Chocorua, Moat, Pequawket, Mount -Washington and his supporting mountains, the -Franconia group, Carrigain, and the Bartlett -valley. Moat and Chocorua are much alike -from this point of view. They are both comparatively -treeless mountains and were consequently -snowy white. Their outlines suggest -combing breakers. Chocorua, being under the -low-hanging sun, was reflecting light from -every crusted snowbank and ice-wrapped -boulder. It was like a mountain of cut glass. -Mount Washington was unobscured, and in the -noonday sun as colorless as summer clouds. -This snowy whiteness of its upper mass wound -in streams down its sides, as soft frosting pours -in grooves down the sides of a birthday cake. -Between these streams of whiteness ran upward -long fingers of dark forest. Most of the other -mountains in sight were wooded to their summits, -and so contrasted sharply in their sombre -colorings with their snowy rivals.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_250">250</div> -<p>The narrow ridge which forms the top of -Bear Mountain is blockaded by fallen timber. -Squirming through the tangle, we saw all the -views and then sat down in the sun on piles of -spruce branches and ate our lunch. Having no -water, we quenched our thirst by mingling snow -with our bread and eating them together. As -we ate and rested, looking across a wooded -valley toward Carrigain and the Franconias, a -flock of white-winged crossbills alighted above -our heads and talked to us. Several were rosy -males in the perfection of plumage. Many -more siskins came and went, and so did a flock -of four red nuthatches and several kinglets.</p> -<p>Our descent was rapid and amusing. We -plunged downward from tree to tree with long -strides and slides, sometimes falling, often -coasting faster and farther than we wished. -Three more flocks of crossbills, many dozens of -siskins, and a scattering of nuthatches gladdened -us as we pushed down the slopes. A -hawk, too, came quite near to us, soaring at -last so as to clear the mountain’s crest. He -was rather small, and very quick and jerky in -his wing motions. He circled from left to right -in small curves.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig22"> -<img src="images/p250.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="598" /> -<p class="pcap">MOUNT CHOCORUA AND THE LAKE IN WINTER</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_251">251</div> -<p>While walking home on the railway we were -fortunate enough to call to us a small flock of -pine grosbeaks, five or six only, and having no -red birds in their number so far as I could see. -Red squirrels were ubiquitous. I think we -saw, or heard the chattering of, at least twenty -during the day. I have been told so often that -chipmunks keep closely housed in winter that -when one squealed at me from his hole near the -track I did not trust either my own ears or -those of my friend. Seeing is believing, however, -and a dozen or two rods farther on another -chipmunk stayed on his log long enough for us -to count his stripes and wish him a merry -Christmas.</p> -<p>We reached home at about half past four, -just as the western sky was filled with rosy -light by a sun already set. Venus, close to the -dark rim of Passaconaway, and Jupiter, in the -higher sky, summoned the stars to their posts, -and encouraged us to beg for supper.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_252">252</div> -<h2 id="c18"><span class="small">IN THE PAUGUS WOODS.</span></h2> -<p>Just opposite our house, which stood on the -north side of the road, facing south towards -Paugus, was a black forest of spruces. Into -this we plunged on Tuesday morning, not -knowing what might lie within. The silence of -the gloom was broken by the sound of falling -bits of ice and drops of melting snow. Bird -notes, too, could be heard, and now and then -a red squirrel chattered. The trunks of the -trees stood closely together, and thousands of -small dead branches radiated from the trunks -and interlaced, opposing our progress. The -crashing of these twigs as we broke through -them, accompanied by the crunching of the -snow-crust under our feet, noisily announced -our coming. At intervals we found masses of -fallen timber, the wreck of fierce storms, and -brooks covered with thin ice and misleading -snow, through which we slumped into cold water -beneath. Every few paces rabbit tracks dotted -the soft film of snow which lay upon the crust. -If the tracks which we crossed during our three -or four mile walk could have been measured in -<span class="pb" id="Page_253">253</span> -all their meanderings, I think the aggregate of -miles traversed by the rabbits of that locality -would have been found to rival the railway -mileage of New Hampshire. From time to -time we stopped to call birds to us by the aid -of my whistles. I think I called eight or nine -times, and in each instance birds appeared -promptly. Usually pine finches came first, -whirling through the upper air like burnt paper -driven by the wind. As they passed over us, -they would catch the sound of the whistles more -distinctly and begin a series of undulatory circles. -Then one or two would drop straight -down into a leafless tree, or upon the tips of -the spruces, and the rest would follow them, -sometimes twenty going into one tree. Their -sweet queryings filled the air, and drew other -birds to the focus of sound, among others a -number of purple finches and a white-bellied -nuthatch. Kinglets came very near to us when -we were well hidden; so near that the brilliant -color on their dainty heads could be seen with -perfect distinctness. There were more chickadees -in these woods than in the other places we -had visited, and I examined them all with great -care, hoping to find a Hudson Bay titmouse. -Two flocks of the common species came, and -produced no northern birds, but at a third rally -of nuthatches, finches, and kinglets, a strange -<span class="pb" id="Page_254">254</span> -voice made itself heard. I knew it for something -different from a chickadee at once, and -yet it was titmouse language. Squeaking vigorously, -I called the stranger down to me. At -first I thought it was a chickadee; then he sputtered -out his “<i>dee-dee</i>” and showed his brownish -head and great chestnut patch on his flank, and -I knew he was from Hudson Bay. Three others -joined him and gave me ample chance to inspect -their points. I had the feeling that they had -less character and spirit than our blackcap titmouse. -Their voices were weaker and more -petulant and their general appearance less positive -and aggressive.</p> -<p>Once I caught a glimpse of a big white hare -bounding away from us through a jungle of -young spruces. He was so nearly the color of -the snow that my eyes found it difficult to follow -him.</p> -<p>After going rather more than two miles -through the spruce tangle, we entered an old -logging road much used by rabbits, foxes, and -grouse, and, following it northward, we made -our way home.</p> -<p>About 3.30 <span class="sc">P. M.</span> the baying of a hound attracted -our notice, and I walked up the road to -see what he was doing. He soon appeared at -the edge of the spruce woods, and I followed -him into their dark shades. After a moment’s -<span class="pb" id="Page_255">255</span> -hesitation he took the back track and was soon -almost out of earshot on a hot scent. Not long -after, my friend left the house and, crossing -Swift River by the railway bridge, followed the -rails northward through the forest. Soon he -heard the hound baying to the eastward, down -river. Then a snapping of branches and crunching -of crust came to his ears, and a moment -later a deer broke through the bushes, dashed -up the embankment, and, turning at right angles, -came in weary leaps towards him. My -friend stood perfectly still, too much astonished -to move. The deer came to within twelve paces -of him, then saw him, and with a bound left -the track and plunged into the woods on the -western side. A few moments later the hunters -came up and my friend demanded what they -were doing, and whether the hound was their -dog, in so severe a tone that the poachers denied -their interest in the dog and made off into -the woods. Meanwhile, I wandered southward -through the spruces, now hearing the hound, -now losing his melancholy baying. No small -birds were to be seen or heard. They had vanished -to their night abiding-places. Two grouse -rose noisily and went into the tops of the trees. -Red squirrels continued to bustle about until -after dusk. As light faded in the sky, the forest -grew very dark, and fallen trees, stumps, -<span class="pb" id="Page_256">256</span> -and bushes rearranged themselves into weird -shapes which seemed to move against the vague -background of the snow. The silence of the -cold black and white woods became oppressive, -and the chill of night increased moment by moment. -The baying of the hound, lost to the -eastward, had come again from the north, and -finally moved over towards the west. It was -after five o’clock, and the dog had followed his -chase since eleven. Standing still, listening to -the hound, and peering into the trees in search -of the grouse, I began to grow drowsy, and to -long to sink down upon the soft snow and go to -sleep. It required a strong effort of will to -rouse myself and to start my benumbed feet -upon their homeward way. As soon as I moved, -the grouse, which had been budding in a high -maple, flew away deeper into the gloom, and -then utter silence settled down upon the deserted -forest.</p> -<p>When we awoke, December 24, the day promised -to be fine. Blue sky covered the area above -Carrigain, and a cool west wind swept across -the fields from which much of the snow had -disappeared. We had planned to climb another -of the mountains near the railway track, but -while we were breakfasting, the engine came in, -and, finding no cars loaded, went out again at -once. By nine o’clock clouds had gathered and -<span class="pb" id="Page_257">257</span> -caps had settled down upon many of the peaks. -We heard crossbills calling as we left the house. -Their short, sharp call is much like the English -sparrow’s alarm-note. A flock of nine settled -on the spruces by the salting-trough as we went -past. One was a red bird, two had a trace of -red, five were brown, with some streaking on -the sides of the breast, and one was quite yellow. -One of them was gnawing a long shoot of -spruce which had already been chewed free of -needles and left brown and forlorn. Unfortunately -we took a dog with us, a black mongrel -with pleading eyes and no wisdom. He loved -to zigzag over the country in front of us, and -to bark at red squirrels. He was a nuisance, -but very sweet-tempered, as many fools are. -We took him, hoping that he might hunt rabbits, -but we wished him in Jericho long before -the forenoon was over.</p> -<p>Although cloudy all day, no rain fell until -evening; consequently birds were astir and abundant. -We left the highway at a point where -an old logging road led southward through the -spruce swamp, parallel to a stream bearing the -odd name of Oliverian Brook. Continued far -enough over ledges and through “harricanes,” -the road would pass between Paugus and Passaconaway -and come out into the Birch Intervale, -Tamworth. After going in for a couple of -<span class="pb" id="Page_258">258</span> -miles the road bends to the left, following the -east branch of the Oliverian Brook up to the -spruce forests on Paugus.</p> -<p>We made our first halt in a dense spruce and -hemlock thicket and called for birds. They -came from all quarters until dozens of the usual -kinds were around us. After a while seven or -eight blue jays flitted past, one by one, attracted -mainly by my hooting. They came -within easy gunshot and peered at us with suspicion -and anger in their wicked eyes. They -are villains in spite of their attractive dress. -Suddenly they flew with cries of alarm, and I -saw a large light-colored hawk sweep past and -alight in a tall dead tree just out of range. -The dog at this crisis made his appearance and -rushed back and forth with ill-timed energy. -The hawk flew a little farther away and was -on his guard against stalking. The jays also -vanished, and soon the smaller birds left also. -Among the latter was one Hudson Bay titmouse.</p> -<p>In the depths of the spruce swamp the snow -had not wasted much, and it was soft enough to -take the imprint of passing feet. We found -the tracks of a deer, a mink, and a ’coon. -Foxes, rabbits, squirrels, mice, and grouse had -been that way also. Several times, in crossing -fresh fox tracks, I got a whiff of odor which I -<span class="pb" id="Page_259">259</span> -fancied might be that of the fox. It suggested -the smell of hamamelis. The swamp trees were -draped with gray moss, one of the most striking -of nature’s decorations in this latitude. Many -of the trees were thickly grown with green -lichens, which, being wet, were two or three -times as bright in coloring as when dry. In -spots where the snow had melted, showing -patches of the swamp floor, mayflower, checkerberry, -ranunculus, partridge-berry, ferns, and -other leaves showed their vivid coloring, or -were replaced in very damp ground by sphagnum.</p> -<p>As we neared the slopes of Paugus the trees -became larger and the forest clear of undergrowth. -Our road—a very old one—was -most clearly marked by being densely grown -with weeds, and an inferior crop of trees and -bushes. As compared with the clear forest, -the road was a ribbon-like jungle. Its young -growth was composed of viburnums, slender -maples, and cherry-trees. Spots where the -cattle had been fed could be picked out by -means of the asters, clover, and other flowers -and weeds which had sprung up from the seeds -sown by the fodder.</p> -<p>In the edge of the high growth we halted a -second time, and called the birds together. -They failed not to respond, and when their -<span class="pb" id="Page_260">260</span> -chattering was at its height the familiar “<i>who-hoo, -hoo-hoo, who-hoo-hoo-hooo</i>” of a barred -owl was heard. The birds became silent and -most of them disappeared, perhaps to scold the -real owl. Many of the trees in this belt of -forest were nearly a hundred feet in height.</p> -<p>Well up towards the high ridges of Paugus -our road crossed the Oliverian Brook. The -point chosen twenty years ago by the lumberman-engineer -for building his bridge was a -ravine of singularly picturesque character. -Thirty feet below its two precipitous banks the -noisy torrent struggled among its boulders. -Dozens of dark spruces overhung it, and rank -upon rank of evergreens lined the banks. In -the bed of the brook the lumbermen had built -up in “cob-house” fashion two log abutments -about twenty-five feet high. From each bank -immense logs were run out to rest upon the -abutments, and similar logs formed the central -span. Then scores of shorter logs were laid -across from girder to girder, and all were firmly -bound together by heavy side-logs laid on top -of and parallel to the girders. We decided to -cross this bridge, although it was falling to -pieces. Many of the short logs had rotted off -and fallen through. We walked upon the girders, -the whole bridge trembling ominously -under our tread. Our dog, foolish as he was, -<span class="pb" id="Page_261">261</span> -knew enough not to cross this bridge, for after -inspecting it he whined, ran down the bank, -plunged through the stream, and clambered up -the other side.</p> -<p>At half past two we had reached rather high -land. The road was fast climbing the flank of -Paugus, following a minor branch of the Oliverian -Brook. Just across this little run rose -the gloomiest grove of spruces we had seen. It -stood upon a bank fifty feet above the road and -brook. I clambered up to it, and forced my -way through its dense tangle. To my surprise -I found that it was only about thirty feet wide, -growing on a mere tongue of land between two -mountain gorges. On the farther side the land -fell off abruptly two or three hundred feet, and -down in the shades below still another branch -of the Oliverian fretted in its bed. Beyond it -was another ridge, over which, a mile and more -away, grim Passaconaway frowned across at -me. A white cloud-banner streamed from his -spruce-crowned head. To the serious detriment -of my clothes I climbed a tall spruce on the -edge of the ravine in order to determine our -position. Behind us was Paugus, its summits -within comparatively easy reach. From them -I could have looked down at my snow-covered -home by Chocorua lakes. Westward, just -across the forest basin on whose edge we stood, -<span class="pb" id="Page_262">262</span> -was Passaconaway. Northward the eye wandered -downward over gently sloping tree-tops -to the broad snowy intervale with its cozy farms -and its one long, straight road, running from -west to east, from the forests by Sabba Day -Brook, down Swift River, through its gorges -towards Conway. Above and beyond the intervale -were the northern mountains which lock -it in from the rest of the world,—Bear Mountain -on the right, then Owl’s Head, Carrigain, -Green’s Cliffs, Sugar Hill, and Kancamagus. -The notch east of Carrigain is one of the grandest -rifts in the White Mountain panorama. It -is like a black gateway opened for storms and -wailing winds to sweep through.</p> -<p>The black grove on its narrow tongue of -land hanging between two gorges was alive with -birds, and I fancied it to be their sleeping-place. -Chickadees, kinglets, and a brown creeper were -in possession and resented my intrusion. It -was just such a place as I have always imagined -a small bird’s dormitory to be.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig23"> -<img src="images/p262.jpg" alt="" width="624" height="1000" /> -<p class="pcap">FROST-COVERED SPRUCE NEAR THE SUMMIT OF PASSACONAWAY</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_263">263</div> -<p>We returned, descending by another logging -road leading due north to the intervale road -about a mile below the Carrigain House. This -logging road is one of the most picturesque I -have ever seen. It follows closely a brook of -considerable size which is one long series of -pools, falls, and dashing rapids. The forest on -both sides of the brook bed is of high growth -and generous proportions. Every few moments -a vista view of Bear Mountain charmed us as -we wound down the steep incline, while behind -and above us the ledges of Paugus, gleaming -with ice and capped by snow, showed at intervals -through the trees.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_264">264</div> -<h2 id="c19"><span class="small">AT THE FOOT OF PASSACONAWAY.</span></h2> -<p>Wednesday, December 23, dawned under a -damp sky. Tripyramid kept on his nightcap, -and patches of mist clung to the dark precipice -of Passaconaway. The mountains looked -higher and more threatening than on previous -days, and they seemed closer to us than when -the sun shone. A whisper of falling drops and -settling snow ruffled the morning calm. Nevertheless, -patches of blue sky showed in the -west, and once or twice a silvery spot in the -clouds suggested the sun’s burning through. -We went first to see our favorite flock of birds -at the cattle-trough in the pasture. They were -there in full force, nearly if not quite a hundred -strong. They allowed me to come within about -twenty feet of them, and to watch them narrowly -through my glass. Rather more than -half were red crossbills. Of the remainder, -two thirds were pine finches, and one third goldfinches. -No red-polls were to be seen. The -coloring in the crossbills was amazingly diverse. -There were very brilliant males with cinnabar -tints wherever such color is ever found. From -<span class="pb" id="Page_265">265</span> -this maximum of intensity their coloring graded -downward through partial red markings on the -one hand, and through gradually fading red -markings on the other. I saw one bird with -red on his rump only. The fading from red to -yellow yielded many gradations of red and yellow -or orange down to pure gold. The brown -birds were the more numerous, and they seemed -to have various combinations of light and dark, -with now and then suggestions of bright tints. -In some individuals the mandibles crossed in -one way, and in others the opposite way. In -size the crossbills varied widely. Often, in -glancing quickly at a group, I mistook the -smaller, duller birds for pine finches. A dozen -times in as many minutes the flock whirled upwards -and round and round, showering the air -with their delicious medley music. Generally -from three to six old birds remained in one of -the two spruces near the fence by the trough, -and a sharp call from them brought the flock -down again like a fall of hail.</p> -<p>When we had walked a mile up the valley a -shower struck us, and we waited a few moments -under the shelter of an old house from which -the wall boards had been removed. We heard -sweet bird notes, but could not locate the singers. -When we turned to go, however, a flock -of sixteen snow-buntings rose from a field where -<span class="pb" id="Page_266">266</span> -they had been feeding in the yellow grasses, -and vibrated away with merry calls until swallowed -up in fog and rain.</p> -<p>The wasting of the snow under the hot sun -of Monday and the cloudy sky but mild air of -Tuesday had left many plants and dried flower-stalks -exposed to view. Plum-colored masses -of berry bushes encroached upon the wide expanse -of snow as headlands reach out into a -calm sea. Tiny forests of wiry grass reared -their heads above the snow. In color they were -what is called “sandy.” Goldenrod and aster -stems, holding aloft dry and brittle suggestions -of long-lost flowers; the heads of brunella, looking -like chess castles, and of the Indian pipe, -upright and pineapple-shaped; and many delicate -hairlike stems from which all trace of leaf -and flower had departed, broke the evenness of -the snow fields, and were beautiful in an unassuming, -unconscious, unintentional way. Indeed, -many of them had never shone with -beauty before. In summer, submerged in the -wilderness of green things which crowd the -unplowed intervale, they could not have been -found by the eye of any one in chance passing. -But in winter, the time of their nominal beauty -gone, they lingered in their old age, and looked -more beautiful in their bleached simplicity than -those summer flowers which never gave them a -chance to reveal what was in them.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_267">267</div> -<p>At the end of the intervale, instead of plunging -into the woods where our barred owl lived, -we turned southward towards the foot of Passaconaway. -The rough road led through the forest -to a saw-mill under the shoulder of the first -ridge of the mountains. Downes Brook had -been partially dammed to form a pond, upon -which hundreds of logs lay awaiting their fate. -At the foot of the dam stood the mill. Its -lower story was an engine-room. A steam-engine -of considerable power worked four saws, a -planer, and an endless chain used to draw in -logs from the ice. At the dam end these logs -were being drawn in upon the floor, measured, -and marked. Then they went to the first and -largest saw, which cut off their slabs, reduced -them to boards or planks, and sent them along -to the second saw to have their ends squared. -From the second saw they went to the third, -where their sides were made equal, and hence -through the planer, out at the lower end of the -mill, down a chute to a platform where they -were piled, ready to be hauled away. The -fourth saw was used to cut the slabs and edge-cuttings -into the right lengths for fuel; for not -only the engine demon in the under story fed -on wood, but all the people in the intervale -burned slabs. About twelve men were employed -in the upper part of the mill, some -<span class="pb" id="Page_268">268</span> -Americans, some French Canadians, and some -Irishmen. One young Frenchman was a picture -of dirty beauty and health. His jet-black -hair, reeking with oil, was plastered in a curve -over his forehead. His mustache was curling, -and his snapping eyes, dark skin, rosy cheeks, -and powerful but rather gross body made a -striking picture for a day laborer.</p> -<p>Leaving the mill with its distracting noise, -we ascended the main logging road towards -Passaconaway. It follows Downes Brook southward, -now clinging to one hillside, then crossing -the ice-bound torrent by a rude but massive -bridge of spruce logs to stay for a while on the -opposite bank. On each side the timber had -been cut and hauled away. The survival of the -unfittest is the rule in the forest after the lumber -thief has been through it. He leaves the -crooked, the feeble, and the diseased trees, and -packs around their roots the fertilizing branches -and tops of the logs which he hauls away. On -our way up we met several teams coming down -the slippery, sloppy road. Two strong Canadian -horses, low sleds, three great logs chained -together and to the sleds, and an oily, tobacco-chewing -French Canadian made up a team. -We stopped and talked to one driver, who said -that if the snow went off they would keep on -with their hauling, using the runners on the -<span class="pb" id="Page_269">269</span> -bare ground. While he chatted with us he fed -his nigh horse on pieces of chewing tobacco, -which the horse took from his fingers or bit -from the plug. We were told later that this is -a common form of attention for the drivers to -show their favorite horses. The horse swallowed -the tobacco. About half a mile above the mill -we came to the logging camp. There was a -compact log stable, a log smithy manned by a -sturdy Frenchman in moccasins who spoke very -little English, and a living-house made of slabs -covered with tarred paper well battened down. -The house stood on a ribbon of ground between -the road and the steep edge of the torrent. -Entering through a low shed at the southern or -upper end of the shanty, we found ourselves in -the kitchen and dining-room. The room contained -two cook-stoves and three long, narrow -board tables with benches facing them. The -tables were set for thirty-five men, allowing -about twenty inches of space for each man. -We were welcomed by the cook, a New Englander, -who boasted of having cooked in lumber -camps for twenty years. He prided himself on -his bread, and cut a loaf to show its quality. -I never ate better bread anywhere. The dishes -on the table were simple,—tin plates, tin cups, -bottles of vinegar, pitchers of maple syrup, tins -holding mountains of yellow butter, and plates -<span class="pb" id="Page_270">270</span> -piled high with “fried holes,” as doughnuts are -graphically termed. Baked beans are a staple -dish, but I noticed a barrel of pork at the door, -and lying on the woodpile a big bundle of codfish -and a side of beef certified as good by the -Hon. Jere. Rusk.</p> -<p>The sleeping-room of the camp was not attractive. -It was dark, hot, stuffy in odor, and -overcrowded. Rude bunks, three tiers deep, -lined the side walls. The men turn into these -pens with their clothes on, often wet with rain -or snow. Teamsters are roused at four <span class="sc">A. M.</span>; -the rest of a “crew” somewhat later. In winter, -four <span class="sc">A. M.</span> and midnight are equally -gloomy, and if either is colder it is the morning -hour. The cook said he could remember but -one case of serious illness in his logging camps. -The grip, he said, seldom kept a man from -work more than one or two days. He expressed -great fondness for birds, and spoke of the daily -visits of crossbills, and in some years of moose-birds. -“They know their friends, as most -dumb beasts do,” he declared, and went on to -tell of a terrible storm of snow and sleet which -came one winter, threatening death to his pets. -“I just opened my camp doors and called and -whistled to my birds, and in they came, dozens -of ’em, until every beam and perch in the camp -was full of ’em.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_271">271</div> -<p>We strolled up the road for a mile or more -beyond the camp. At several points deposits -of logs had been made at the sides of the road. -Several hundred logs lay in each pile. Near -by, hemlock bark was stacked in long rows, -flanking the road. We crossed the torrent -twice on spruce bridges, and each time gained -a magnificent view of Passaconaway. It was -framed in black clouds, rushing masses of vapor, -and dark hillsides still laden with forests. In -the foreground was the foaming stream, boulder-choked, -bounding towards us. From this side -Passaconaway shows no peak; it is simply a -somewhat worn cube, to whose precipitous faces -the forests cling and the snows freeze. Its -coloring is dark in any light, but as we saw it -through the gathering storm of that late December -day a more forbidding mountain mass could -hardly be imagined. It was so near us, yet so -high above us; so black, so cold, so lonely, yet -so full of nature’s voices, the wailing of wind, -the cruel rush of waters, the weird creaking of -strained trees. The stream, with its greenish -waters hurling themselves over the boulders and -fretting against the ice sheets projecting from -the banks, seemed like a messenger rushing -headlong from the mountain to warn us back -from impending danger.</p> -<p>Resting for a while under the shelter of a -<span class="pb" id="Page_272">272</span> -giant hemlock, we called the birds. Two or -three chickadees and two kinglets came to us, -but they were subdued by the storm and shy -about getting wet. Then we walked briskly -homeward, the rain falling in earnest during the -latter part of the way. A snowy fog rose from -all parts of the valley, spreading most rapidly -from the western end. The flat fields of snow -vanished first; then the damp veil crept up the -dark spruces and hid their tops; and finally -mountain peak after mountain peak surrendered -to the rising tide, and we were left alone in the -dense fog with only a narrow circle of steaming -snow around us. As the day wore on, rain -fell faster and harder, the wind rose, it grew -colder, and the blackness of the winter night -would have been terrible but for the peace and -comfort within doors. On such a night the -deer in their “yards” must shiver with the -chilling dampness; the grouse must find the -snow too wet to sleep in; and foxes and rabbits, -if they leave their dens and forms at all, must -regret the hunger which drives them out. -Where are the crossbills and siskins? I wish -that I knew and could find them out, and take -a friendly look at their ruffled feathers, their -heads tucked under their wings, and perhaps -dozens of their plump little bodies snuggled -together in a dark, dry spruce.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_273">273</div> -<h2 id="c20"><span class="small">CHRISTMAS AT SABBA DAY FALLS.</span></h2> -<p>Christmas Day was warm, cloudy at best, -densely foggy at worst. Soon after breakfast -we were swinging westward up the valley road, -determined to find Sabba Day Falls or perish -in the attempt. As we passed the crossbill -feeding-ground no birds were in sight, but a -moment later, high in the air, we heard bird -voices. Looking skyward, we saw a flock of -from one to two hundred birds whirling round -and round, like ashes drawn upwards over a -fire. They were at a very great height, and -were gradually rising. As they increased their -distance they disappeared and reappeared several -times; then they vanished wholly, swallowed -up in the high air. I think they were -our crossbills, goldfinches, and siskins, and that -they were soaring in search of fair weather, -perhaps intending to migrate to some other -favorite haunt. Christmas Day is not a time -when one expects much color in a White Mountain -landscape, but the warm air, the moisture, -and the contrasts against snow below and fog -above combined to produce and to make evident -<span class="pb" id="Page_274">274</span> -a great deal of exquisite tinting in the shrubs -of the fields and the forests of the mountain -spurs. As we strode up the line of yellow mud -which made the road, our path was bordered by -shallow snow from which sprung an abundant -growth of hardback and spiræa. Taken in -masses, their stems made a rich maroon, somewhat -dull near by, but warm and deep when -seen across an acre of snow. A foot or two -higher than these small shrubs were viburnums -and small cherry and maple trees growing along -the skirts of the forest. Their general tone was -also dull red, though somewhat brighter than -the spiræa. The next band of color was ashy -mottled with dark green, and made probably by -young birches, poplars, beeches, and hemlocks. -Then came a belt of fog mingled with snowy -smoke from the saw-mill, and above that a -broad band of ashes-of-rose color, formed by -the upper branches and twigs of the common -deciduous trees. Above all were the spruces, -always dark except when the piercing eye of -the sun reveals the wonderful golden olive which -they keep for him alone.</p> -<p>The smoke of the saw-mill showed that the -timber-eater finds no time for remembering the -birthday of Jesus. Teams were moving as -usual, carrying the green lumber down to the -railway. The men employed to demolish our -<span class="pb" id="Page_275">275</span> -forests are poorly paid. A dollar a day and -board is what the French Canadian receives -here. Board is called fifty cents a day, and the -married workman with a houseful of children -lives on that sum. We passed the home of a -French Canadian known in the valley as Bumblebee. -The house is twelve feet long by ten -feet deep. The ridgepole is twelve feet from -the ground. The chimney is a piece of stove-pipe. -The walls are made of boards, battened, -and the roof is unshingled. Bumblebee has -five children, the eldest being eight. His wife’s -mind is affected. The standing timber, the -mill, the lumber railway, and many of the dwellings -and small farms belong to non-residents, -whose only object is to shear the mountains, -squeeze the laborers, and keep Congress from -putting lumber on the free list.</p> -<p>Not far beyond Bumblebee’s one-room house -we entered the primeval forest. We were following -the trail through the snow made by us -on Sunday. When a quarter of a mile in, we -were surprised to find a bear track crossing our -path at right angles. The huge brute had -passed that way on Tuesday or Wednesday, -judging by the condition of the snow. On -reaching the spot where we had aroused a barred -owl on Sunday, we hid under some small hemlocks, -thereby getting a thorough sprinkling, -<span class="pb" id="Page_276">276</span> -and I hooted. After my third attempt, I saw -a great bird fly through the woods to a point -only a hundred yards distant. In a moment or -two I hooted again, and then made the fine -squeaking noise which a mouse makes. The -owl came nearer, and at once began hooting. -During nearly ten minutes, in which we kept -up a lively exchange of hoots, he varied his -notes in several ways, sometimes keeping on, -without pausing, from one series of hoots to another. -I never heard a more talkative owl. At -last he flew into a tree so near us that I could -see him clearly through my glass. As he hooted, -his throat swelled and pulsated. He searched -the trees and the ground with his keen dark -eyes. When at last he saw me, I seemed to -feel the force of his glare. Then he turned his -head to the left and flew away with long, soft -sweeps of his wings. At a distance he resumed -his hooting, which we could hear for some time -as we strolled on up Sabba Day Brook. What -we had supposed to be the river, on Sunday, -proved to be Sabba Day Brook itself. The -water was high, most of the ice had gone, and -all the small brooks poured in liberal streams. -In one pool I observed a small trout. At last -we heard the thunder of the falls, and looked -forward eagerly to see them. The stream -seemed to issue from the solid rock, for directly -<span class="pb" id="Page_277">277</span> -across the channel rose a cliff of dark granite -crowned with black spruces and one or two -pines whose lofty tops were pale in the fog. As -we drew near, the majestic beauty of the place -became apparent. At the foot of the black cliff -was a deep pool full of strange colors,—greens, -olives, and white. The waters in it were restless, -rising and settling back, but forever washing -the sides of their basin. Four gigantic -icicles hung from the top of the cliff, extending -to the bottom. One of them, at its lower -end, touched a flat shelf of rock, and so became -a graceful column supporting the overhanging -mosses from which it started. Another adhered -to the rock all the way, and was a crystalline -pilaster. The other two were free throughout -the whole of their thirty feet of length, and -tapered to needle points threatening the pool -below. The colors in the pool were in fact borrowed -from the mosses and ferns which grew in -masses at the sides and upon the top of the cliff. -Living in perpetual dampness, these exquisite -plants flourish and become perfect examples of -their kind. The trailing fern fronds were as -green and as clean in outline as in summer. -They sprang from beds of mosses wonderful in -tints. Some were golden olive, others pale -green, and still others blood red. Pressed -against the upper edge of the black cliff, they -<span class="pb" id="Page_278">278</span> -were like a garland of bright flowers on the -forehead of some sullen warrior.</p> -<p>The water did not pour into this pool from -the cliff, but came to it through a narrow flume -or gap in the solid rock which had been concealed -from us as we ascended the stream by the -high wooded bank opposite the cliff. On reaching -the edge of the pool, in the chill shadow of -the black rock, we looked up the flume between -narrow walls of dark gray granite, and saw, -thirty feet or more beyond, another pool, into -which was pouring from the left a great sheet -of water. This fall, coming from a point fifty -or sixty feet above us, and on the extreme left -of the flume, had its side towards us; yet, after -its green waters struck the upper pool and struggled -there awhile, they came through the flume -as their only outlet. Clambering up the right-hand -or north bank, we gained a point where -we could see all the details of this strange cataract.</p> -<p>Sabba Day Brook above the falls flows nearly -due east. It strikes a rocky hillside and is deflected -to the left by a sharp curve, so that it -runs due north. In this direction it has worn -a sloping passage to the edge of the falls. Dropping -fifty feet into a great pot-hole, it turns -abruptly to the east and flows out through the -flume into the green pool, past the black ledge, -<span class="pb" id="Page_279">279</span> -and then, turning slightly towards the north, -hurries on from basin to rapid on its way to the -intervale. Standing on a shelf of snow-covered -rock overhanging the angle in the fall, we first -looked up at the water leaving its level above -and hurrying towards its leap, and then down -at the boiling pool below and the dashing water -in the flume. These falls must be beautiful in -summer, with sunlight playing in the leaves, -blue sky lending color to the water, and rainbow -tints gleaming in the uprising spray. They -were also beautiful to-day,—Christmas Day,—when -the loneliness of winter was brooding over -the mountains, when ice and snow mingled in -the surroundings of the falls, and when the gay -coloring of the summer forest was replaced by -the sombre tones of leafless trees. In summer -some trace of man might have jarred upon the -perfect solitude of the spot and made it seem -less pure. As it was, standing in the untrodden -snow, surrounded by the fog, the wild stream, -the ice-sheathed rocks, I felt as one might if -suffered to land for a while upon some far -planet, strange to man, and consecrated to -eternal cold and solitude.</p> -<p>We turned away reluctantly and entered the -old forest which stands between Sabba Day -Brook and Swift River, a quarter of a mile to -the north. The rumble of the falls grew fainter -<span class="pb" id="Page_280">280</span> -and fainter, then ceased. Blue jays flew -through the tree-tops; a great hawk floated by -above the trees; kinglets and a brown creeper -lisped to us; chickadees, nuthatches, downy -woodpeckers, and a great flock of singing siskins -came in answer to our whistles; and red -squirrels scolded us from their tree-strongholds. -When we reached Swift River, we found it -broad, still, and without a log or stones to cross -upon. Having on water-tight hip-boots, I -waded the stream, bearing my companion upon -my shoulders. Entering a swamp on the farther -shore, we observed fresh hedgehog tracks. -In one place the fat beast had lain down in the -snow, and some of his soft quills had frozen to -his bed and pulled out when he trundled his -body along again. At every labored step he -left the print of his body in the snow, making a -track as conspicuous as a man’s. In a tangle -of yew branches he had paused and nibbled -bark from several stems. After following his -trail a hundred yards or more, we lost it in a -spruce thicket where the snow had melted.</p> -<p>At the extreme western end of Swift River -intervale stands a hill seven or eight hundred -feet high, having long sloping lines and a -pointed top. It is called Sugarloaf. Its sides -are covered with as fine a growth of ancient -trees as it is often one’s fortune to find in New -<span class="pb" id="Page_281">281</span> -England. As this growth includes few spruces, -hemlocks, or pines, it has escaped the timber -fiends. There are among its trees giant yellow -birches, saffron-colored in the mist; beeches a -century old, with trunks moulded into shapes -suggestive of human limbs strong in muscles, -rock maples eighty or ninety feet high and -hemlocks with coarse bark unbroken by limbs -until, a hundred feet from the hillside, a mat -of their interwoven branches finds the sunlight. -The cultivated fields and pasture lands of the -intervale are singularly free from rocks. Here -and there a great boulder can be found, but it -is conspicuous in its loneliness. On this hillside, -however, boulders of all shapes and sizes -are strewn. Most of them are about the size -of a load of hay. They are covered with showy -lichens and the greenest of green mosses. Selecting -one at the very summit of the hill, we -searched under its overhanging sides for dry -leaves and twigs. Then we broke an old stump -into pieces and tore the curling bark from a -prostrate birch. All this material was more or -less damp, but by patience we secured a little -bed of coals which soon dried the rest of our -fuel, so that before long a bright blaze and a -warm glow gladdened our eyes and comforted -our chilled bodies. Then came our cheery -Christmas dinner in the primeval forest, upon -<span class="pb" id="Page_282">282</span> -a snow-covered hillside, under the projecting -face of a great rock, beneath which we sat, -with a ruddy fire crackling in front of us. -Never Christmas dinner went straighter to the -right spot.</p> -<p>While we were resting and enjoying our fire, -a flock of sweet-voiced pine grosbeaks came to -neighboring tree-tops, a white-bellied nuthatch -hung head downwards from a beech-trunk, and -two downy woodpeckers called uneasily to each -other. At last we extinguished our fire and descended -the hill. Five grouse flew noisily from -the hillside. Through the trees we could see -the white ice on Church’s Pond, and towards it -we made our way. The pond is the last remnant -of the great lake which in distant ages -filled the whole of this intervale. Even now an -area twenty times as large as the lake adjoins -its water, and is almost level with it, being -covered with sphagnum, laurel, pitcher-plant, -and other bog growth, and offering very uncertain -footing. Reaching the pond, we circled -around it on the ice, cautiously keeping close to -the shore, although a yoke of oxen could probably -have blundered across without danger. -While we were on the lake the sunset hour -passed, and a dense fog crept down upon the -serrated spruce forest which borders the water. -Three pine grosbeaks flew into the advancing -<span class="pb" id="Page_283">283</span> -mists, talking in gentle music to one another. -One was left on a dead tree in the bog, and -uttered a plaintive cry again and again. Leaving -the ice, we struck across the frozen bog, -now and then breaking through the soft places, -but generally finding ice or roots to sustain our -weary feet. As we progressed, we gathered an -armful of club-mosses and a bunch of checkerberry -plants bearing their gay fruit. The fog -closed in around us, and the air became chilly. -Not a mountain could we see. It was a relief to -strike firm soil, though it was only a few inches -higher than the bog. Presently we came to the -river, and for a second time I shouldered my -friend and took him over dryshod. After doing -the same, a few moments later, at Sabba -Day Brook, we gained the end of the intervale -road near Bumblebee’s hut. It was now growing -dark, yet a mile of yellow mud still lay before -us. Colors had faded; the graceful outlines -of the forest were dimmed; nothing but -the martial spruces remained with us, drawn up -in stiff lines beside the road.</p> -<p>When we reached home, the Christmas greens -and checkerberries were made by our inexperienced -fingers into a cross, a wreath, and a long -strip for festooning. These we presented to -the three-year-old Lily of the intervale, whose -ideas of Christmas had been obscured by the -<span class="pb" id="Page_284">284</span> -fact that no one had given her any presents. -These offerings made matters better with her, -and I fancied that she pommeled her four kittens -less mercilessly than usual, as she gazed at -the Christmas greens, and said many times to -her grandmother, “Man dave dose to Diddy, -he did.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_285">285</div> -<h2 id="c21"><span class="small">DOWN THE TORRENT’S PATHWAY.</span></h2> -<p>Saturday, December 26, our last day in the -intervale, was the least pleasant of our visit. -At eight <span class="sc">A. M.</span> fog covered the mountains, the -forests, and everything, in fact, save a few acres -of deep straw-colored field on which only a few -soiled patches of snow remained. The engine -came in promptly, but found no cars loaded, -and went back to Bartlett without freight. -About nine o’clock the millmen came home and -said there were no logs at the saw-mill, the -Frenchmen having been drunk on Christmas. -There were rumors of fights among the revelers. -About ten o’clock, having finished our -packing, we took a short stroll in the rain. -There were kinglets in the woods by the roadside, -but no crossbills could be found at their -favorite feeding-ground. I think they migrated -Christmas morning.</p> -<p>We crossed Swift River on the railway bridge -and entered the tract of densely wooded swamp -which occupies much of the northern side of the -intervale. It was at this point that my friend -saw the deer on Tuesday. As we strolled along -<span class="pb" id="Page_286">286</span> -the track, the voices of birds could be heard on -our left. Petulant, and even angry cries came -from the damp shades. We stopped and listened, -and I said, “It sounds to me as though -an owl were being worried in there.” Then I -entered the spruces, going very slowly and cautiously. -Chickadees, nuthatches, and kinglets -were chattering and scolding. I pressed in, -sometimes working my way on hands and knees -over the snow which still remained under the -cover of the dense woods. By and by I could -see some of the birds. They were evidently -greatly excited, and they all seemed to be looking -at the same thing,—a something around -which they formed a circle. I crept on. Fully -twenty small birds were in sight. Three at -least were the weak-voiced, sputtering Hudson -Bay titmice. Their clamor was continuous. -When they saw me, they moved about and -scolded at me somewhat. I closely scrutinized -the tree which seemed to be the focus of their -wrath. A dark brown object projected from -the shelter of the trunk. It twitched. I wriggled -on a foot or two more, and as I did so a -strange little face peered around the tree-trunk, -and wild, yellow eyes glared at me from a white -face framed in a chocolate brown hood. I -fairly held my breath and half closed my eyes -while the tiny owl stared at me. Slowly he -<span class="pb" id="Page_287">287</span> -looked away, and flew a few feet to another -spruce branch. He was now facing me, and he -watched me narrowly. Most of his accusers -had gone, and soon all departed, the rain falling -more briskly, and a cold easterly wind shaking -moisture from the trees. The little owl shook -himself and seemed melancholy. He was getting -wet, and he did not like my looks at all. -He flew again, and a second time I kept him -within sight. His eyes were encircled by discs -of white mingling with snowy eyebrows, so that -nearly the whole of his monkey-like countenance -was white. The back and top of his head were -brown, and the same dark color closed in round -his neck and throat, as a baby’s cap closes -round its face. The owl’s breast was light, and -marked by several broad perpendicular stripes -of reddish brown. His back was dark, and so -were his wings, save for some white spots. -From the crown of his downy head to the soles -of his wicked little clawed feet, this tiny Acadian -measured not more than seven or eight -inches.</p> -<p>My constant watching made the little fellow -very uneasy. He flew nine times from branch -to branch or tree to tree, yet I managed to follow -him closely. From one of his perches he -could not see my face well, and it was amusing -to see him stretch himself to his full height and -<span class="pb" id="Page_288">288</span> -peep over the obscuring branch. On another -perch he was perfectly in view. As he watched -me he tipped his head first on one side, then on -the other. Then he would poke it forward or -swing it round on his supple little neck, and -strive to get my measure if not my purposes. I -squeaked like a mouse, and he became agitated, -looking keenly at the snow near me. Suddenly, -without warning, he flew into a long, narrow -opening in the spruces and disappeared in its -windings. Our search for him was in vain, and -we hurried home to dry ourselves once again -before taking our long drive to Conway.</p> -<p>One o’clock saw us beneath a huge cotton -umbrella, packed under a fur robe, on the back -seat of a light two-horse wagon. The east wind -beat fiercely in our faces, and the horses shook -their heads and danced as the rain stung them. -The cloud masses rolled through the valley, eddying -between the mountains much as the Swift -River whirls around its boulders. Sometimes -the mists opened and a dark face of forest or -damp rock showed for a moment. With a -crack of the whip and a good-by to our hostess -we dashed away. Through the window I caught -a last glimpse of little Diddy, curled up on a -big feather-bed, taking her midday nap. Then -flying mud, rain, horses, and soaking forests -alone met the eye, and we hurried eastward.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_289">289</div> -<p>The level intervale was soon left behind, and -the road began the descent towards the Saco. -Swift River roared below us; brooks came tumbling -down their rough channels, poured under -or across the road, and merged their currents -in the river’s. The trees swayed and shook -rain from their shoulders. Now in front of -us, now to our left, the madly descending river -and its presiding mountain walls were always -in sight. The bare faces of the ledges, the rent -hillsides and sloping sand-banks, the boulders -heaped in countless numbers in the river bed, -all told of forgotten days like this day of storm-fury, -when the waters of the pent-up lake in -the valley we had left rebelled against these -hillsides and ledges, and tore them in fragments, -sweeping over them towards the liberty -of water,—the sea.</p> -<p>The northern spurs of Chocorua came towards -us through the mist as though to crush us; but -the horses dashed on, leaving their threatening -heights behind. Then Bear Mountain’s black -spruces and glistening cliffs barred our way; -but we followed the river’s lead and came out -into the pastures and fields next to Moat. After -nearly three hours of soaking, our steaming -horses drew up at Conway station, and we were -left to dry and await the train. Letters accumulated -during the week made the time pass -<span class="pb" id="Page_290">290</span> -quickly until the train came and we were fairly -homeward bound. The storm hid the mountains -and half obscured Six Mile Pond and its -ragged pitch-pine shores. Rain—cold, stinging, -winter rain—beat upon the Bearcamp, -Salmon Falls, the Piscataqua, and the Merrimac. -The night inside of Salem tunnel was no -darker than the night on Saugus marshes, and -even the myriad lights of Boston reflected in -the Mystic only made the winter gloom more -visible. As I struggled through the Saturday-night -crowd on the narrow streets near the stations, -and marked the faces of waif and thief, -drunkard, jester, sordid vender of evil wares, -weary workman or thrice weary workwoman, -my heart was heavier than it had been in the -wild valley back of Passaconaway. Even Bumblebee, -with his sick wife and five children, -crowded into one room in that hut by Sabba -Day Brook, had something of life of which this -foul city humanity knows nothing. Certainly -Bumblebee’s boys lack the chance to absorb the -virus of the slums which the wretched waifs of -the streets have. As I waited for my Cambridge -car, the stream of humanity surged and -eddied round me and the foul fog hung over -us. Swift River, plunging on resistlessly towards -the sea, is seeking rest, far away; but this -stream of humanity,—what is it seeking? To -me it seemed to be seeking anything but the -rest, everything but the peace, to which its current -ought to tend.</p> -<div class="img" id="fig24"> -<img src="images/p290.jpg" alt="" width="616" height="991" /> -<p class="pcap">MOAT MOUNTAIN AND THE SWIFT RIVER</p> -</div> -<div class="pb" id="Page_291">291</div> -<p>Fast and furious as is the torrent of Swift -River, its beginning is in the heavens, and as -long as the noble forests cloak the hills and -guard the springs, so long will its current be -sustained by fresh supplies of moisture drawn -from the distant sea. This human current, -coursing into and through the city, draws a -part of its strength from the hills. All our -New England uplands are draining their youth -and strength into the cities, but the ocean which -these life-streams reach gives back no gentle, -purified life to fill the mountain farms. It -takes all, pollutes much, but yields nothing in -return.</p> -<p>A deep-toned bell in the Old North Church -spoke to the foggy night. Answering voices -came from a dozen belfries. They seemed to -call in review the long year now drawing to its -close. Years are as days to them in their high -places far above the human stream, but years -are very real to us who can count so few of -them before we reach that wide Ocean towards -which our stream flows. The flower has a day -for its year, the gnat an hour. What a mighty -harvest Death has reaped since this year began; -yet no one expects any shrinkage in the current -<span class="pb" id="Page_292">292</span> -of life in the next year. The world’s rhythm -will be just as strong, just as even, just as full -of joy to those who will accept joy as the birds -accept it. What, then, is death if it cannot -diminish the sum total of creation’s forces? Is -it more than a transfer of energy from one point -to another? When the flower dies we can see -and measure the transfer; when a man dies we -who live cannot see it all, but we can measure -the poor shell which is left to us and feel sure, -terribly sure at first, joyously sure in time, that -all which was there in life is not still there; -that something has been transferred where we -can neither see nor measure it.</p> -<p>The year begins in snow and ends in snow. -When it begins, the pendulum of life is far up -at the left of its arc, all its force is gathered -in position, none is displayed in motion. But -suddenly the pendulum begins to move; it is -falling; it moves faster and faster towards the -right. Then it is that snows melt, buds swell, -birds come northward singing, dormant creatures -leave their caves, and all Nature displays -her latent energy in motion. Just when the -motion of the pendulum is fastest it passes that -middle and lowest point in its arc and begins to -turn its momentum into the force of position. -Up it goes, and as it ascends to the far right, -it goes more and more slowly until finally it -<span class="pb" id="Page_293">293</span> -stops. This upward swing in Nature begins -when the first flowers fade, the first nestlings -are hatched, and the first leaves fall. In summer -we do not always notice the lessening speed -of Nature’s motions; not until autumn comes -do we realize that the days are shorter, the sun’s -rays less warm, the birds fewer, and vegetation -almost without power of growth. In December -the pendulum stops and all that Nature has of -energy is latent, awaiting the turn in the -world’s rhythm.</p> -<p>The baby, gurgling and cooing in its basket, -is full of latent forces. As life goes on, these -powers are exercised more and more to the flood, -less and less as the tide ebbs. Yet who is there -who dares to say that when old age is reached -there is not as much laid by in that soul -wrapped in its weary body as there was in the -infant full of latent power? We know not -where the infant’s forces came from, nor where -the dying man’s energy goes to, but if Nature -teaches us anything, it teaches us that forces -such as these are eternal in the same sense that -matter is eternal and space endless.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_295">295</div> -<h2 id="c22"><span class="small">INDEX</span></h2> -<p class="center"><a class="ab" href="#index_A">A</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_B">B</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_C">C</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_D">D</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_E">E</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_F">F</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_G">G</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_H">H</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_I">I</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_J">J</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_K">K</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_L">L</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_M">M</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_N">N</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_O">O</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_P">P</a> <span class="ab">Q</span> <a class="ab" href="#index_R">R</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_S">S</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_T">T</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_U">U</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_V">V</a> <a class="ab" href="#index_W">W</a> <span class="ab">X</span> <a class="ab" href="#index_Y">Y</a> <span class="ab">Z</span></p> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_A">A</dt> -<dt>Albany, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</dt> -<dt>Alder, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</dt> -<dt>Amelanchier, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</dt> -<dt>American holly, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</dt> -<dt>Ant, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</dt> -<dt>Apple-tree, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</dt> -<dt>Arenaria grœnlandica, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</dt> -<dt>Arrowhead, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</dt> -<dt>Ash <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</dt> -<dt>Aster, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_B">B</dt> -<dt>Balsam fir, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</dt> -<dt>Barberry, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bat, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bear, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>-95, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bearcamp Valley, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bearcamp Water, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bee, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</dt> -<dt>Beech, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</dt> -<dt>Birch, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>;</dt> -<dd>canoe, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</dd> -<dd>gray, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</dd> -<dd>yellow, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</dd> -<dt>Birch Intervale, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bittern, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</dt> -<dt>Blackberry, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</dt> -<dt>Blueberry, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bluebird, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bobolink, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</dt> -<dt>Boston, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.</dt> -<dt>Bristletails, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</dt> -<dt>Brown creeper, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</dt> -<dt>Brunella, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</dt> -<dt>Buttercups, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_C">C</dt> -<dt>Caddis-worm, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</dt> -<dt>Campton, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</dt> -<dt>Catbird, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</dt> -<dt>Cedar-bird, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</dt> -<dt>Champney Falls brook, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</dt> -<dt>Checkerberry, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</dt> -<dt>Chewink, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</dt> -<dt>Chickadee, blackcap, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>;</dt> -<dd>Hudson Bay, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</dd> -<dt>Chocorua Lake, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</dt> -<dt>Chocorua River, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</dt> -<dt>Choke-cherry, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</dt> -<dt>Church’s Pond, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</dt> -<dt>Clematis, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</dt> -<dt>Clintonia, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</dt> -<dt>Clover, red, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</dt> -<dd>white, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>;</dd> -<dd>yellow, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</dd> -<dt>Club-mosses, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</dt> -<dt>Conway, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</dt> -<dt>Cornel, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</dt> -<dt>Crickets, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</dt> -<dt>Crossbill, red, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>;</dt> -<dd>white, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</dd> -<dt>Crow, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_D">D</dt> -<dt>Daisy, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</dt> -<dt>Dalibarda, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</dt> -<dt>Deer, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</dt> -<dt>Diervilla, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</dt> -<dt>Dogbane, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</dt> -<dt>Downes brook, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</dt> -<dt>Dragonfly, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</dt> -<dt>Duck, black, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</dt> -<dd>sheldrake, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>;</dd> -<dd>wood, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</dd> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_E">E</dt> -<dt>Eagle, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</dt> -<dt>Evening primrose, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_F">F</dt> -<dt>Ferns, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</dt> -<dt>Fireweed, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</dt> -<dt>Flax, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</dt> -<dt>Fleabane, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</dt> -<dt>Fly, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</dt> -<dt>Fox, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</dt> -<dt>Frog, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</dt> -<dd>wood, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</dd> -<dt>Fungi, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<div class="pb" id="Page_296">296</div> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_G">G</dt> -<dt>Geese, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</dt> -<dt>Goldenrod, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</dt> -<dt>Goldfinch, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>.</dt> -<dt>Grasshopper, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</dt> -<dt>Grouse, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>;</dt> -<dd>Canada, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</dd> -<dt>Gull, herring, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_H">H</dt> -<dt>Hardback, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</dt> -<dt>Hare, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</dt> -<dt>Harvest-fly, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</dt> -<dt>Hawk, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>;</dt> -<dd>Cooper’s, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</dd> -<dd>marsh, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</dd> -<dd>red-shouldered, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>;</dd> -<dd>sharp-shinned, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</dd> -<dt>Hawkweed, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</dt> -<dt>Hemlock, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</dt> -<dt>Heron, blue, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>-110, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</dt> -<dd>night, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</dd> -<dt>Honeysuckle, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</dt> -<dt>Hornet, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</dt> -<dt>Hornpout, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</dt> -<dt>Houstonia, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</dt> -<dt>Huckleberry, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</dt> -<dt>Humming-bird, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</dt> -<dt>Hyla, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_I">I</dt> -<dt>Immortelles, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</dt> -<dt>Indian pipe, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_J">J</dt> -<dt>Jay, blue, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>;</dt> -<dd>Canada, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</dd> -<dt>Junco, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_K">K</dt> -<dt>Kingbird, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</dt> -<dt>Kingfisher, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</dt> -<dt>Kinglet, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_L">L</dt> -<dt>Lambkill, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</dt> -<dt>Larch, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</dt> -<dt>Least flycatcher, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</dt> -<dt>Lichen, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</dt> -<dt>Linnæa, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.</dt> -<dt>Locust, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</dt> -<dt>Locust-tree, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</dt> -<dt>Loon, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_M">M</dt> -<dt>Madison, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</dt> -<dt>Maple, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</dt> -<dt>Mayflower, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</dt> -<dt>Mink, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</dt> -<dt>Mole, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</dt> -<dt>Morning-glory, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</dt> -<dt>Mosquito, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</dt> -<dt>Moss, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</dt> -<dt>Mountain, Anderson, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</dt> -<dd>Bald, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</dd> -<dd>Bear, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>-251, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>;</dd> -<dd>Black (Sandwich Dome), <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>;</dd> -<dd>Bond, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>;</dd> -<dd>Carrigain, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</dd> -<dd>Chocorua, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>-81, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>-208, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>;</dd> -<dd>Franconia, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</dd> -<dd>Green’s Cliffs, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</dd> -<dd>Kancamagus, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</dd> -<dd>Lowell, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;</dd> -<dd>Moat, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>;</dd> -<dd>Nancy, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</dd> -<dd>Osceola, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;</dd> -<dd>Ossipee, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>;</dd> -<dd>Pequawket, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</dd> -<dd>Passaconaway, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>;</dd> -<dd>Paugus, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>-156, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>;</dd> -<dd>Presidential, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</dd> -<dd>Sandwich, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>;</dd> -<dd>Tremont, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</dd> -<dd>Tripyramid, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</dd> -<dd>Washington <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</dd> -<dd>Whiteface, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>;</dd> -<dd>Whittier, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>;</dd> -<dd>Willey, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</dd> -<dt>Mountain ash, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</dt> -<dt>Mouse, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>-145, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</dt> -<dt>Mullein, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</dt> -<dt>Muskrat, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_N">N</dt> -<dt>Night-hawk, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</dt> -<dt>Nuthatch, red-bellied, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>;</dt> -<dd>white-bellied, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</dd> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_O">O</dt> -<dt>Oak, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</dt> -<dt>Oliverian brook, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>-261.</dt> -<dt>Olive-sided flycatcher, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</dt> -<dt>Orchis, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</dt> -<dt>Osprey, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</dt> -<dt>Ossipee Lake, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</dt> -<dt>Owl, Acadian, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>;</dt> -<dd>barred, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</dd> -<dt>Oxalis, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_P">P</dt> -<dt>Partridge-berry, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</dt> -<dt>Paugus Falls, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</dt> -<dt>Paugus River, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pemigewasset Valley, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pewee, bridge, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>;</dt> -<dd>wood, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</dd> -<dt>Pickerel, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pickerel-weed, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pine, pitch, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>;</dt> -<dd>white, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</dd> -<dt class="pb" id="Page_297">297</dt> -<dt>Pine finch, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pine grosbeak, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pine sap, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pipsissewa, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pitcher plant, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</dt> -<dt>Poplar, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</dt> -<dt>Porcupine, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</dt> -<dt>Potentilla, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</dt> -<dt>Purple finch, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>.</dt> -<dt>Pyrola, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_R">R</dt> -<dt>Raccoon, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</dt> -<dt>Rattlesnake plantain, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</dt> -<dt>Robin, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</dt> -<dt>Rose, wild, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</dt> -<dt>Rusty grackle, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_S">S</dt> -<dt>Sabba Day Falls, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>-284.</dt> -<dt>Saco River, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</dt> -<dt>St. John’s-wort, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</dt> -<dt>Sandpiper, solitary, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>;</dt> -<dd>spotted, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</dd> -<dt>Sandwich, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</dt> -<dt>Shrew, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</dt> -<dt>Six Mile Pond, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.</dt> -<dt>Skunk, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</dt> -<dt>Skunk cabbage, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</dt> -<dt>Snowberry, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</dt> -<dt>Snow-bunting, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</dt> -<dt>Solomon’s seal, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</dt> -<dt>Sparrow, chipping, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</dt> -<dd>field, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</dd> -<dd>song, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</dd> -<dd>tree, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>;</dd> -<dd>vesper, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</dd> -<dd>white-crowned, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>;</dd> -<dd>white-throated, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</dd> -<dt>Sphagnum, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</dt> -<dt>Spider, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</dt> -<dt>Spiræa, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</dt> -<dt>Spiranthes, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</dt> -<dt>Spruce, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</dt> -<dt>Squam Lake, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</dt> -<dt>Squirrel, flying, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;</dt> -<dd>gray, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</dd> -<dd>red, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>;</dd> -<dd>striped, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</dd> -<dt>Sumac, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</dt> -<dt>Swallow, bank, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</dt> -<dd>barn, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</dd> -<dd>eaves, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</dd> -<dd>martin, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</dd> -<dd>white-breasted, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</dd> -<dt>Sweet fern, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</dt> -<dt>Sweet pea, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</dt> -<dt>Swift, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</dt> -<dt>Swift River, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</dt> -<dt>Swift River Intervale, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_T">T</dt> -<dt>Tadpole, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</dt> -<dt>Tamworth, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</dt> -<dt>Tanager, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</dt> -<dt>Tern, black, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</dt> -<dd>Wilson’s, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</dd> -<dt>Thistle, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</dt> -<dt>Thrush, hermit, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</dt> -<dd>Swainson’s, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</dd> -<dd>veery, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</dd> -<dt>Toad, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</dt> -<dt>Tree-frog, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</dt> -<dt>Trout, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</dt> -<dt>Turtle, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_U">U</dt> -<dt>University Hall, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_V">V</dt> -<dt>Veratrum, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</dt> -<dt>Vervain, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</dt> -<dt>Viburnum, hobble-bush, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</dt> -<dt>Violet, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</dt> -<dt>Vireo, red-eyed, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</dt> -<dd>Philadelphia, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>;</dd> -<dd>solitary, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</dd> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_W">W</dt> -<dt>West Ossipee, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</dt> -<dt>Warbler, black and white creeping, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</dt> -<dd>Blackburnian, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</dd> -<dd>blackpoll, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</dd> -<dd>black-throated blue, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</dd> -<dd>black-throated green, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</dd> -<dd>Canadian fly-catching, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</dd> -<dd>chestnut-sided, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</dd> -<dd>magnolia, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</dd> -<dd>Maryland yellow-throat, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</dd> -<dd>myrtle, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</dd> -<dd>oven-bird, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>;</dd> -<dd>parula, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</dd> -<dd>redstart, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</dd> -<dd>Wilson’s blackcap, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</dd> -<dt>Whippoorwill, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</dt> -<dt>White Pond, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</dt> -<dt>Whitton Pond, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</dt> -<dt>Wild cherry, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</dt> -<dt>Willow, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</dt> -<dt>Winnepesaukee Lake, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</dt> -<dt>Winter wren, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</dt> -<dt>Witch-hazel, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</dt> -<dt>Woodbine, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</dt> -<dt>Woodchuck, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</dt> -<dt>Woodpecker, downy, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>;</dt> -<dd>flicker, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</dd> -<dd>pileated, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>;</dd> -<dd>sapsucking, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</dd> -<dd>three-toed, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</dd> -</dl> -<dl class="index"> -<dt class="center b" id="index_Y">Y</dt> -<dt>Yarrow, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</dt> -<dt>Yellow-bellied flycatcher, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.</dt> -<dt>Yew, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</dt> -</dl> -<p class="tbcenter"><i class="b">The Riverside Press</i> -<br /><span class="smaller">CAMBRIDGE . 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