netrate, but made a circuit to the
northward through pasture land and young wood for half a mile or more,
and by and by crossed the road, looking along which to the northwest, I
could see the farmhouses of several of our neighbors.

Still farther around to the north rose a bold, rocky, cleared hill which
I concluded was the sheep pasture. In a wet run along the foot of the
hill was a stretch of what looked to be low, reddish, brushy grass,
which I ascertained later was the "cranberry swale."

Beyond it to the east, a long field curved around the foot of the sheep
pasture; and on the far side of this field there was woodland again,
descending first to the valley of the east brook where lay the "Little
Sea," then ascending a rugged hill.

A boy, like a bee, must needs take his bearings before he can feel quite
at home in a new place. I crossed the valley and climbed the wooded hill
beyond, a distance of nearly a mile and a half from the farmhouse.
Formerly there had been a grand growth of pine here; and there were
still a few pine trees. Numbers of the old stumps and stubs were of
great size. This rugged ridge bore the name of Pine Hill. From the
summit I gained a fine view of the country around, with its farms and
forest tracts, and of the Pennesseewassee stretching away to the
southward; also of the White Mountains in the northwest; while on the
other side of the hill to the east and southeast, lay an extensive bog
and another smaller lake, or pond, known as North Pond.

For half an hour or more I sat upon a pine stump and pored over the
geography of the district with much boyish interest, noting various
hills, farmhouses and other landmarks concerning which I determined to
inquire of Addison.

At length, beginning to feel hungry and bethinking myself that it must
be getting toward noon, I descended from my perch of observation, and
made my way homeward, although it did not seem very much like home to me
as yet. The tramp had done me good in the way of satisfying my "bump of
location."

Reaching the house in advance of the noon hour, I went out with Theodora
to see the eaves swallows again. We counted fifty-seven nests in a row,
each resembling very much a dry cocoanut shell, with a swallow's head
looking out at a little hole on the upper side. Dora pointed out the
nest of one pair which had experienced much ill luck. Three times the
nest had fallen. No sooner would they finish it and have an egg or two,
than dow