V 



72 NORTH CAROLINA 



forest-covered hill just beyond. The shape- 

 lessness of the pond and its romantic sur- 

 roundings will in the course of years give 

 it beauty, but for the present everything 

 is unpleasantly new. The tall old trees 

 and the ancient rhododendron bushes, which 

 have been drowned by the brook they meant 

 only to drink from, are too recently dead. 

 Nature must have time to trim the ragged 

 edges of man's work and fit it into her own 

 plan. And she will do it, though it may 

 take her longer than to absorb the man him- 

 self. 



When I came in sight of the pond for the 

 first time, in the midst of my second day's 

 explorations, my first thought, it must be 

 confessed, was not of its beauty or want of 

 beauty, but of sandpipers, and in a minute 

 more I was leaning over the fence to sweep 

 the water-line with my opera-glass. Yes, 

 there they were, five or six in number, one 

 here, another there ; solitary sandpipers, so 

 called with only a moderate degree of appro- 

 priateness, breaking their long northward 

 journey beside this mountain lake, which 

 might have been made for their express con- 

 venience. I was glad to see them. Without 



