THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAIN. 23 
songs of birds could be heard. Red-eyed and 
solitary vireos, oven - birds, a black-throated 
blue warbler, a hermit thrush, and another 
thrush which was neither hermit nor veery, 
were singing either in the woods close by or 
among the small spruces which crowned the 
adjoining ledges. I climbed to the top of the 
nearest ledge in search of the thrush, and 
gained not only the full benefit of his song, but 
a view of many a mile of the fair lake country, 
the Bearcamp valley, and the rugged peaks of 
the Sandwich range. The air was full of quiv¬ 
ering heat and hazy midsummer softness. Over 
the shoulder of the Ossipees, south of Bearcamp 
Water, sparkled Squam Lake and Winnepe- 
saukee. The hayfields of Sandwich were bak¬ 
ing under the sun’s fierce heat. North of them 
began the mountains, — Black Mountain in the 
edge of Campton, Whiteface, Passaconaway, 
and, nearer at hand, Paugus, towards which all 
the western ridges of Chocorua were tending. 
The sun being over and beyond these wooded 
mountains, they were very dark, lacking in de¬ 
tail, but clearly outlined against one another. 
Northward and just above me the cliffs of the 
Chocorua horn hung in the sky. The lichens 
on the crag were dry and very black. Tower¬ 
ing into the air, ledge upon ledge, and cliff over 
cliff, the peak was like a huge citadel defying 
