JUNE IN FRANCONIA. 7 
carpeted with club-mosses, dog-tooth violets, 
clintonia, linnza, and similar plants. He 
continued to sing, and I continued to edge 
my way nearer and nearer, till finally I was 
near enough, and went down on my knees. 
Then I saw him, facing me, showing white 
under parts. A Tennessee warbler! Here 
was good luck indeed. I ogled him for a 
long time (“Shoot it,” says Mr. Burroughs, 
authoritatively, ‘“‘not ogle it with a glass;”’ 
but a man must follow his own method), im- 
patient to see his back, and especially the 
top of his head. What a precious frenzy we 
fall into at such moments! My knees were 
fairly upon nettles. He flew, and I fol- 
lowed. Once more he was under the glass, 
but still facing me. How lke a vireo he 
looked! For one instant I thought, Can it 
be the Philadelphia vireo? But, though I 
had never seen that bird, I knew its song to 
be as different as possible from the notes to 
which I was listening. After a long time 
the fellow turned to feeding, and now I ob- 
tained a look at his upper parts, — the back 
olive, the head ashy, like the Nashville 
warbler. That was enough. It was indeed 
the Tennessee (/lelminthophila peregrina), 
