Greater barrenness of soil, or greater exposure to storms, or both causes together, had left this hill-top comparatively bare; and a few cedars that had lived and died there had been cut away by the axe, for firewood; making a still further clearance.  But the shallow soil everywhere supported a covering of short grass or more luxuriant mosses; and enough cedars yet made good their hold of life and standing, to overshadow pretty well the whole ground; leaving the eye unchecked in its upward or downward rovings.  The height was about two hundred feet above the level of the river, and seemed to stand in mid-channel, Shahweetah thrusting itself out between the north and southerly courses of the stream, and obliging it to bend for a little space at a sharp angle to the West.  The north and south reaches, and the bend were all commanded by the height, together with the whole western shore and southern and south-eastern hills.  To the northwest was Wut-a-qut-o, seen almost from the water’s edge to the top; but the out-jutting woods of Shahweetah impinged upon the mountain’s base, and cut the line of the river there to the eye.  But north there was no obstruction.  The low foreground of woods over which the hill-top looked, served but as a base to the picture, a setting on the hither side.  Beyond it the Shatemuc rolled down from the north in uninterrupted view, the guardian hills, Wut-a-qut-o and its companions, standing on either side; and beyond them, far beyond, was the low western shore of the river sweeping round to the right, where the river made another angle, shewing its soft tints; and some faint and clear blue mountains still further off, the extreme distance of all.  But what varied colouring, —­ what fresh lights and shades, —­ what sweet contrast of fair blue sky and fair blue river, —­ the one, earth’s motion; the other, heaven’s rest; what deep and bright greens in the foreground, and what shadowy, faint, cloud-like, tints of those far off mountains.  The soft north wind that had greeted the travellers in the early morning, was blowing yet, soft and warm; it flickered the leaves of the oaks and chestnuts with a lazy summer stir; white sails spotted the broad bosom of the Shatemuc and came down with summer gentleness from the upper reaches of the river.  And here and there a cloud floated over; and now and then a locust sang his monotone; and another soft breath of the North wind said that it was August; and the grasshoppers down in the dell said yes, it was.

Winnie sat or lay down under the trees, and there Winthrop left her for a while; when he came back it was with flushed face and crisped hair and a basket full of berries.  He threw himself down on the ground beside Winnie, threw his hat off on the other side, and gave her the basket.  Winnie set it down again, after a word of comment, and her head took its wonted place of rest with a little smothered sigh.

“How do you feel, Winnie?” said her brother, passing his hand gently over her cheek.