CHAPTER XVII. 



LITTLE TUPPER'S LAKE A SPIKE BUCK A THUNDER STORM IN 

 THE FOREST THE HOWL OF THE WOLF. 



spent the next day in coasting Round Pond, looking 

 into its secluded bays, and resting, when the sun was hot, 

 beneath the shadows of the brave old trees that line the 

 banks. In floating along the shore of this beautiful sheet 

 of water, one can hardly help imagining that in the broken 

 rocks and rough stones piled up along the margin of the 

 lake, he sees the ruins of an ancient wall, the mortar of 

 which has become disintegrated by time, and the masonry 

 fallen down. He will see at intervals what, from a little 

 distance, seems like a solid wall of stone, laid with care, and 

 upon which the lapse of centuries has wrought no change, so 

 regular are the strata of which it is composed, while an 

 occasional boulder, large as a house, and covered with moss, 

 reminds him of the ruined tower of some stronghold. He 

 will see, as he rounds some rocky point, half a dozen of 

 these gigantic boulders piled together, leaning against each 

 other with great cavernous openings between, through which 



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