A TASTE OF MAINE BIRCH. 61 
Then, with the long, curving branches of the spruce 
stuck thickly around three sides of the bed, and curv- 
ing over and uniting their tops above it, a shelter was 
formed that would keep out the cold and the snow, 
and that would catch and retain the warmth of the fire. 
Rolled in his blanket in such a nest, Uncle Nathan 
had passed hundreds of the most frigid winter nights. 
One day we made an excursion of three miles 
through the woods to Bald Mountain, following a dim 
trail. We saw, as we filed silently along, plenty of 
sions of caribou, deer, and bear, but were not blessed 
with a sight of either of the animals themselves. I 
noticed that Uncle Nathan, in looking through the 
woods, did not hold his head as we did, but thrust it 
slightly forward, and peered under the branches like 
a deer or other wild creature. 
The summit of Bald Mountain was the most im- 
pressive mountain-top I had ever seen, mainly, per- 
haps, because it was. one enormous crown of nearly 
naked granite. The rock had that gray, elemental, 
eternal look which granite alone has. One seemed to 
be face to face with the gods of the fore-world. Like 
an atom, like a breath of to-day, we were suddenly 
confronted by abysmal geologic time, — the eternities 
past and the eternities to come.. The enormous cleavy- 
age of the rocks, the appalling cracks and fissures, the 
rent bowlders, the smitten granite floors, gave one a 
new sense of the power of heat and frost. In one 
place we noticed several deep parallel grooves, made 
by the old glaciers. In the depressions on the sum- 
mit there was a hard, black, peaty-like soil that looked 
indescribably ancient and unfamiliar. Out of this 
mould, that might have come from the moon or the 
interplanetary spaces, were growing mountain crane 
