A SEA OF JEWEL-WEED. 265 



the tree trunks were grim and dark, with no va- 

 riety in coloring. The sounds we were follow- 

 ing led us through some unused roads entirely 

 grown up with jewel-weed, part of it five feet 

 high, and thickly hung with the yellow flower 

 from which it takes its name. 



It had rained in the night, and every leaf was 

 adorned with minute drops like gems. We 

 parted the stems carefully and passed through, 

 though it seemed to us like wading in deep 

 water, and, in spite of our caution, we were 

 well sprinkled from the dripping leaves. Just as 

 we stepped out of our green sea, the low calls we 

 were trying to locate ceased. We walked slowly 

 on until we were attracted by a rustling in the 

 dry leaves, and then we turned to see two young 

 thrushes foraging about in silence by themselves. 

 They were not very shy, but looked at us with 

 innocent baby eyes as we drew near and exam- 

 ined them. We saw the color and the markings 

 and the peculiar movement of the tail character- 

 istic of the hermit. There could be no doubt 

 that these were hermit babies. We were de- 

 lighted to see them. I never feel that I know a 

 bird family till I have seen the young. But my 

 pleasure was sadly marred by the reflection that 

 where there were babies must have been a nest 

 and a singer, and we had not heard his voice. 



The last Sunday of my stay came, all too soon. 



