JUNE IN FRANCONIA. 5 
whose feet would not willingly have carried 
him in any other direction. The mountains 
drew us, and there was no thought of resist- 
ing their attraction. 
Love and curiosity are different, if not 
incompatible, sentiments; and the birds that 
are dearest to the man are, for that very 
reason, not most interesting to the ornithol- 
ogist. When on a journey, I am almost 
without eyes or ears for bluebirds and rob- 
ins, song sparrows and chickadees. Now is 
my opportunity for extending my acquain- 
tance, and such every-day favorites must get 
along for the time as best they can without 
my attention. So it was herein Franconia. 
The vesper sparrow, the veery, and a host 
of other friends were singing about the hotel 
and along the roadside, but we heeded them 
not. Our case was like the boy’s who de- 
clined gingerbread, when on a visit: he had 
plenty of that at home. 
When we were nearly at the edge of the 
mountain woods, however, we heard across 
the field’ a few notes that brought all four 
of us to an instant standstill. What war- 
bler could that be? Nobody could tell. In 
fact, nobody could guess. But, before the 
