A THUNDERSTORM IN THE FOREST. 
7 
like wading than walking, for every leaf had 
a drop of cold water ready to give away to 
whatever first touched it. A ray of sunlight 
dodged through the lifting clouds and fell into 
the swamp. The song of a parula warbler, 
distilled by it, floated back skyward. As the 
west grew golden and blue, bird-songs sounded 
from every quarter. The merry chickadees, 
conversational vireos, and querulous wood pe- 
wees vied with each other and the tree-toads in 
replacing the orchestral passion of the storm by 
the simple music of their solos. 
Leaving the swamp, I climbed the terrace 
marking the ancient border of the lake, which 
once included the swamp in its area, and passed 
through a grove of slender birches and poplars. 
Their stems, streaming with rain, were as 
bright as polished marble, and their foliage, 
illuminated by the clear sunlight, was marvel¬ 
ously green against the deep blue of the sky. 
Presently a vista opened northward, and at its 
end rose the dark peak of Chocorua. After a 
rain this towering rock presents a noticeably 
different appearance from its normal coloring. 
Most of its surface is covered by lichens, one 
species of which, when dry, resembles burnt 
paper. When rain falls upon these lichens they 
alter their tints, and the burnt paper species in 
particular becomes so green that a wonderful 
