MORNING IN NEWFOUNDLAND. 13 



through the pine forest and over the mountain-side, shak- 

 ing from the tree its fair foliage, roughening the surface 

 of the lake, and drawing over the sky a curtain of thick 

 vapours that narrows the horizon by day, and shuts out 

 the stars by night/ ' * 



The different divisions of the day early morning, noon, 

 evening, night have each their peculiar phase of nature, 

 each admirable. An early riser, I have always been in 

 the habit of enjoying, with keen relish, the opening of 

 day and the awakening of life. In my young days of 

 natural history, when pursuing with much ardour an 

 acquaintance with the insects of Newfoundland, I used 

 frequently, in June and July, to rise at daybreak, and 

 seek a wild but lovely spot a mile or two from the town. 

 It was a small tarn or lake among the hills, known as 

 Little Beaver Pond. Here I would arrive before the 

 winds were up, for it is at that season generally calm 

 till after sunrise. The scene, with all its quiet beauty, 

 rises up to my memory now. There is the black, calm, 

 glassy pond sleeping below me, reflecting from its un- 

 ruffled surface every tree and bush of the dark towering 

 hills above, as in a perfect mirror. Stretching away to 

 the east are seen other ponds, embosomed in the frowning 

 mountains, connected with this one and with each other 

 in that chain-fashion which is so characteristic of New- 

 foundland ; while, further on in the same direction, be- 

 tween two conical peaks, the ocean is perceived reposing 

 under the mantle of the long dark clouds of morning. 

 * Alpenstock, p. 162. 



