86 OUTDOOR STUDIES 
before sunrise, but at least to see these trea- 
sures of the lake in their morning hour, we 
camped overnight on a little island, which 
one tall tree almost covers with its branches, 
while a dense undergrowth of young chestnuts 
and birches fills all the intervening space, touch- 
ing the water all around the circular, shelving 
shore. The day had been hot, but the night 
was cool, and we kindled a gypsy fire of twigs, 
less for warmth than for society. The first 
gleam made the dark, lonely islet into a cheer- 
ing home, turned the protecting tree to a star- 
lit roof, and the chestnut sprays to illuminated 
walls. To us, lying beneath their shelter, every 
fresh flickering of the fire kindled the leaves 
into brightness and banished into dark inter- 
stices the lake and sky; then the fire died into 
embers, the leaves faded into solid darkness in 
their turn, and water and heavens showed light 
and close and near, until fresh twigs caught fire 
and the blaze came up again. Rising to look 
forth at intervals, during the peaceful hours, — 
for it is the worst feature of a night outdoors, 
that sleeping seems such a waste of time, — we 
watched the hilly and wooded shores of the 
lake sink into gloom and glimmer into dawn 
again, amid the low plash of waters and the . 
noises of the night. 
Precisely at half past three a song sparrow 
