A JULY MORNING AT WINNIPISEOGEE. 
39 
A July Morning at Winnipiseogee. 
BY THEODORA RICHARDSON. 
As I arose a robin was hopping on the ground under my win¬ 
dow, before old Sol had yet peeped over the mountain’s rim. 
Cedar-birds, in our stately pine, on whose broad protecting 
limb I discover a nest shaded by woodbine leaves above, are 
lisping their morning notes. They never sing more or less 
than this. But their beautiful dress is so rich in harmonious 
coloring that it is always a pleasure to watch them. Here is an 
unusual combination — a woodbine vine on a thriving pine ; 
and in the cedar-bird’s nest I see a bunch of string such as I 
have not seen in their nests heretofore. 
In a small spruce not three feet from me, a Black and White 
Creeper has just caught a “ daddy-long legs ” and has carried 
the dainty morsel up to the broad oak limb for one of the babies. 
But this wonderful sunrise now claims my attention, for I 
have never witnessed one with such a glorious foreground, and 
such a perspective, and such beautiful mountain surroundings 
as we have about Winnipiseogee, “ The Smile of the Great 
Spirit.” The sun rises directly in front of our cottage windows, 
behind a distant blue mountain, whose name we know not. Its 
rosy hue tinges all the landscape, making a rosy path straight 
toward us to the shore. The pines seem bathed in its caress¬ 
ing light, and each needle point gleams with a dewy gem. 
The heavy massive blue gray clouds hang low in the north¬ 
west, in great cumulus and nimbus masses, the only blue sky 
showing near the zenith. Momentarily the rose-like hue 
changes to gold. The immense gray masses are still shutting 
in and capping the northern mountains except Chocorua’s 
boldly outlined summit. We have all come to love this beauti¬ 
ful mountain with its rocky crest, and to enjoy the ever chang¬ 
ing light and shade as they play upon its crown. 
The golden light is succeeded by the sun’s white beams, 
which give all the eastern clouds their silver lining, and through 
