A WINTRY WILDERNESS. 
235 
the raging river which met ns told of a way 
somewhere, to be found by retracing its channel. 
In the midst of this gloomy hollow in the 
hills we found a slab village. A dozen or fif¬ 
teen houses stood here, but no smoke curled 
from their chimneys. Last September every 
house was occupied; now the foxes roam through 
the deserted settlement unmolested. The saw¬ 
mill which had created the village had been 
burned and the whole population had vanished 
almost as swiftly as the smoke of the ruins. 
Not so the hideous scars left by the lumber¬ 
man’s axe. They will remain for many a day. 
By a series of sharp ascents we gained and 
passed through the rift in the mountain wall 
made centuries ago by the imprisoned waters. 
In this rift at the eastern foot of Bear Moun¬ 
tain, only a few steps from the roadside, 
are the picturesque falls of Swift River. The 
treacherous ice and the gathering darkness for¬ 
bade our going to the giddy margin of the fall, 
and we dashed on into the hidden valley, the 
narrow, mountain-girdled intervale of which we 
were in search. As we left the forest fringes 
of Bear Mountain behind us and emerged in 
the plain, a gorgeous winter sunset gave us 
welcome. Over the blue of the upper sky, in 
which Jupiter alone sparkled faintly, were scat¬ 
tered countless flakes of rosy cloud. Below 
