At the north of Bearcamp Water; . s by the thrust of the ice which re-sults from the expansion of the ice-field by dayfollowing its contraction by night. On a sandyshore the expanding ice pushes up a little ridgeof silt, and works it higher and higher as the icemass rises during the winter. If the edge ofthe ice meets an obstacle, it is apt to break at afoot or more from the shore, and the pieces, stillcarrying their load of gravel, are shoved up thebank to its top, until, as years roll by, the dikeis made too high to receive further additions. The lake in summer is certain to be stirringwith
At the north of Bearcamp Water; . s by the thrust of the ice which re-sults from the expansion of the ice-field by dayfollowing its contraction by night. On a sandyshore the expanding ice pushes up a little ridgeof silt, and works it higher and higher as the icemass rises during the winter. If the edge ofthe ice meets an obstacle, it is apt to break at afoot or more from the shore, and the pieces, stillcarrying their load of gravel, are shoved up thebank to its top, until, as years roll by, the dikeis made too high to receive further additions. The lake in summer is certain to be stirringwith life. Insects upon and over the water,fish, frogs, birds, muskrats, and often largeanimals are in sight and moving both by dayand by night. Now, as the waning sun grewpale behind the birches, no living creaturemoved. The yellow leaves drifted out upon thebreeze, and kept on drifting across the ruffiedwater. Nothing cared where they were dead, and just then all the worldseemed full of falling, drifting leaves, with no. TWTEKJHT ON THE LAKE THE VINTAGE OF THE LEAVES. 175 one to notice them or care for them. Werethey to blame for the feeling of sadness whichcrept over me as the sun went down and thefirst chill of night came into the air? Or wasit the absence of those who might, had theybeen by the lake, have enjoyed the placid twi-light with me? No lights gleamed behind theclosed blinds of my home, no fire crackled uponthe hearth. Those whom I loved were far awayin the city. Leaves were falling in the city,birds had fled from it as well as from the moun-tains. Chilly night had fallen there too, andwith it came, not the sweetness of clear streamsand pine groves, but the foul breath of theCharles and of Alewife Brook, open sewers offilthy towns. No, it was not the sadness of theseason or the influence of drifting leaves whichcast a little shadow over my enjoyment of theexquisite scene before me. It was regret atbeing alone in its presence and of having toleave it so soo
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