banks, which, in turn, spread into sweeping 

 meadows that run out to the creek. The little 

 pond lies between steep hills of chestnut-oak 

 and pine, its upper waters being lost in a dense 

 swamp of magnolia and alder, while over the 

 dam at its foot there rushes a fall that echoes 

 around the wooded hills and then goes purling 

 among the elder and dog roses into the sullen 

 tide-ditches of the meadow. Except the 

 meadows and cultivated fields, everything is on 

 a small scale, as if the place were made of the 

 odds and ends, the left-over pieces in the making 

 of the region round about. Such diversity of 

 soils, such a medley of features, such profusion 

 of life, in a territory of the same size I never saw 

 elsewhere. At the boarding-school, near by, 

 Lupton's Pond is known as "Paradise." 



On reaching the pond I went over to the 

 sand-bank to look for a pair of kingfishers who 

 had nested there many years; but instead of 

 them, I saw a pair of winter wrens fly sharply 

 among the washed-out roots of a persimmon- 

 tree which stood on the edge of the hill above. 

 I instantly lost sight of one of the birds. The 

 actions of the other were so self-conscious that I 

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