BIRCH BROWSINGS 



half way down the mountain, I saw a 

 thrush's nest in a little sapling about ten 

 feet from the ground. 



After continuing our descent till our only 

 guide, the spring run, became quite a trout 

 brook, and its tiny murmur a loud brawl, 

 we began to peer anxiously through the 

 trees for a glimpse of the lake, or for some 

 conformation of the land that would indi- 

 cate its proximity. An object which we 

 vaguely discerned in looking under the near 

 trees and over the more distant ones proved, 

 on further inspection, to be a patch of 

 plowed ground. Presently we made out a 

 burnt fallow near it. This was a wet blanket 

 to our enthusiasm. No lake, no sport, no 

 trout for supper that night. The rather 

 indolent young man had either played us 

 a trick, or, as seemed more likely, had 

 missed the way. We were particularly anx- 

 ious to be at the lake between sundown and 

 dark, as at that time the trout jump most 

 freely. 



Pushing on, we soon emerged into a 

 stumpy field, at the head of a steep valley, 

 which swept around toward the west. 

 About two hundred rods below us was a 

 rude log house, with smoke issuing from 

 95 



