A bridge spanned it midway and from there to its lower end , where an amber-hued belt of sand-hills shut it in from the dark blue gulf beyond , the water was a glory of many shifting hues -- the most spiritual shadings of crocus and rose and ethereal green , with other elusive tintings for which no name has ever been found . Above the bridge the pond ran up into fringing groves of fir and maple and lay all darkly translucent in their wavering shadows . Here and there a wild plum leaned out from the bank like a white-clad girl tip-toeing to her own reflection . From the marsh at the head of the pond came the clear , mournfully-sweet chorus of the frogs . There was a little gray house peering around a white apple orchard on a slope beyond and , although it was not yet quite dark , a light was shining from one of its windows . `` That 's Barry 's pond , '' said Matthew . `` Oh , I do n't like that name , either . I shall call it -- let me see -- the Lake of Shining Waters . Yes , that is the right name for it . I know because of the thrill . When I hit on a name that suits exactly it gives me a thrill . Do things ever give you a thrill ? '' Matthew ruminated . `` Well now , yes . It always kind of gives me a thrill to see them ugly white grubs that spade up in the cucumber beds . I hate the look of them . '' `` Oh , I do n't think that can be exactly the same kind of a thrill . Do you think it can ? There does n't seem to be much connection between grubs and lakes of shining waters , does there ? But why do other people call it Barry 's pond ? ''
`` I reckon because Mr. Barry lives up there XXXXX that house .
Above around at beyond from in like on that to