18 GREEN TRAILS AND UPLAND PASTURES 



and on the border of an upland pasture at twilight you 

 sing an unheard song that could ravish the world ! 



And we, listening breathless beneath the dimming 

 spires of the pointed firs, amid the warm fragrance of 

 the balsams, are secretly glad that this is so! 



It is from an upland pasture that you may view the 

 cloud-drive best. The Franconia cloud-drives come 

 from the southeast, and usually the vanguard of the 

 procession sucks in through the funnel of the Notch, 

 on the other side of Kinsman, wrapping the Old Man 

 of the Mountain in vapour while yet the sun is shining 

 for us. But soon the vapours find then* way upward. 

 We lift our eyes and see their artillery smoke coming 

 over the north peak, trailing, wind-blown and shredded, 

 from its trees, and then rushing out over our valley to 

 obliterate the sun. Once over the rampart, the whole 

 storm follows in their wake. A great, dark mass of 

 vapour drops down with clammy affection about the 

 mountain, rushes through the tree-tops, and seems 

 about to descend to our very house, when it is sud- 

 denly whisked off. Above this, on a level with the 

 summit, the main storm clouds rush, pouring rain, and, 

 finally, through rift after closing rift in this layer, we can 

 see far aloft, moving more leisurely, great masses of 

 cumuli. 



The point where the lowest cloud leaves the mountain 

 is the top of an upland pasture. In spite of the drench- 

 ing rain, we climb past the huddled, despondent cattle 



