AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP 
WATER, 
A THUNDERSTORM IN THE FOREST. 
During nearly the whole of the forenoon of 
July 3, 1892, a soft rain had been falling. It 
had begun in the night to the discomfiture of 
the whippoorwills, but not to the extinguish¬ 
ment of their voices. It continued until nearly 
noon, when the wind shifted from east to west, 
patches of blue sky appeared, and ever and 
anon gleams of sunlight fell upon the distant 
forest across the lake, or slid slowly over the 
tree-tops on the side of Chocorua. Bird voices 
grew stronger with the promise of fair weather. 
Hermit thrushes, veeries, red-eyed vireos, and 
Maryland yellow-throats sang four invitations 
from as many points of the compass, and I said 
Yes to the veeries and sought the swamp. A 
New Hampshire swamp is full of attractions at 
all seasons. In winter the great northern hares 
make innumerable paths across its soft snow, 
