JUNE IN FRANCONIA. 14 
ing together, talking by the way, when all 
at once we halted, as by a common impulse, 
at the sound of a vireo song; a red-eye’s 
song, as it seemed, with the faintest touch of 
something unfamiliar about it. The singer 
was in a small butternut-tree close upon the 
sidewalk, and at once afforded us perfectly 
satisfactory observations, perching on a low 
limb within fifteen feet of our eyes, and 
singing again and again, while we scruti- 
nized every feather through our glasses. As 
one of my companions said, it was like hav- 
ing the bird in your hand. There was no 
room for a question as to its identity. At 
last we had before us the rare and long- 
desired Philadelphia greenlet. As its song 
is little known, I here transcribe my notes 
about it, made at two different times, be- 
tween which there appears to have been some 
discussion among us as to just how it should 
be characterized : — 
“The song is very pretty, and is curiously 
compounded of the red-eye’s and the soli- 
tary’s, both as to phrase and quality. The 
measures are all brief; with fewer syllables, 
that is to say, than the red-eye commonly 
uses. Some of them are exactly like the 
