THE POND. 337 



ture lake, unpoetically dubbed " the Pond," recalls to mem- 

 ory the stories of our childhood, in which naiads and 

 nymphs, with the -enchanting Lurline for their sovereign, 

 prominently figure. 



The Pond, at some seasons, affords splendid sport, espe- 

 cially at the entrance and exit of the river, which flows 

 through it, but it can not be fished except from a boat, 

 which can be brought down, if desired, from the dam 

 above no easy task to be performed, but frequently ac- 

 complished by the expert lumbermen, who appear equally 

 at home in handling the axe or shooting rapids in their 

 flat- bottomed punts. 



Having rested sufficiently to recruit, and probably im- 

 bibed a small glass of something stimulating, diluted with 

 water that trickles from a neighboring spring which is 

 always cold as ice, however warm the weather may be as 

 scarcely more than a couple of miles are before us, we may 

 just as well hurry on. The walk now leaves the river, and 

 becomes much more hilly and inclosed; one time crossing 

 a deep boggy ravine, the next threading its erratic course 

 along the summit of some stony hill-side. The timber here 

 is very beautiful, much superior to what we have formerly 

 met, and the graceful silver -birch prevails a tree than 

 which no prettier or more beautiful exists. Although the 

 road in some places must be quite half a mile from the 

 water, still the deep rumbling of the numerous rapids is 

 distinctly audible, the neighboring portion of the Andros- 

 coggin River being wild and broken in the extreme. 



We have scarcely ever threaded this part of our jour- 

 ney without seeing ruffed grouse, and frequently Canada 

 grouse, one of the most beautiful of the indigenous birds, 

 and resembling more closely than any of the American 

 family the red grouse. of Scotland; the deep scarlet iris, 

 the rich, dark chestnut coloring of both are similar ; but 



15 



