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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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