THE VINTAGE OF THE LEAVES . 193 
rapidly back to the Chocorua House and pack 
my bag for a return journey to the city. As I 
drove southward the mountains, seen across the 
pine barrens, were veiled in haze. The wind 
seemed chiding me for going away so abruptly 
from this paradise of color. Again and again I 
looked back at my favorite peaks and forests, 
printing more and more deeply in my mind the 
recollection of their noble outlines and remark¬ 
able coloring. Finally from the platform of 
the rear car I saw them over the Bearcamp 
meadows, and above and beyond them, with its 
cloud-cap just drifting away to the eastward, 
Mount Washington, benignantly presiding over 
the northern sky. Then the train rumbled 
across the Bearcamp trestle and the shadow of 
the Ossipee hills fell upon us and deepened into 
night. 
