282 AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER. 
a snow-covered hillside, under the projecting 
face of a great rock, beneath which we sat, 
with a ruddy fire crackling in front of us. 
Never Christmas dinner went straigliter to the 
right spot. 
While we were resting and enjoying our fire, 
a flock of sweet-voiced pine grosbeaks came to 
neighboring tree-tops, a white-bellied nuthatch 
hung head downwards from a beech-trunk, and 
two downy woodpeckers called uneasily to each 
other. At last we extinguished our fire and de¬ 
scended the hill. Five grouse flew noisily from 
the hillside. Through the trees we could see 
the white ice on Church’s Pond, and towards it 
we made our way. The pond is the last rem¬ 
nant of the great lake which in distant ages 
filled the whole of this intervale. Even now an 
area twenty times as large as the lake adjoins 
its water, and is almost level with it, being 
covered with sphagnum, laurel, pitcher-plant, 
and other bog growth, and offering very uncer¬ 
tain footing. Reaching the pond, we circled 
around it on the ice, cautiously keeping close to 
the shore, although a yoke of oxen could prob¬ 
ably have blundered across without danger. 
While we were on the lake the sunset hour 
passed, and a dense fog crept down upon the 
serrated spruce forest which borders the water. 
Three pine grosbeaks flew into the advancing 
