IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 83 
in his wheat. The question was important, 
and he was still in a deep quandary, when a 
bird spoke up out of the wood and said, ‘“‘ Sow 
wheat, Peverly, Peverly, Peverly !— Sow wheat, 
Peverly, Peverly, Peverly!” That settled the 
matter. The wheat was sown, and in the fall 
a most abundant harvest was gathered; and 
ever since then this little feathered oracle has 
been known as the Peverly bird. 
We have improved on the custom of the an- 
cients: they examined a bird’s entrails; we lis- 
ten to his song. Who says the Yankee is not 
wiser than the Greek ? 
But I was lying abed in the Crawford House 
when the voice of Zonotrichia albicollis sent 
my thoughts thus astray, from Moosilauke to 
Delphi. That day and the two following were 
passed in roaming about the woods near the 
hotel. The pretty painted trillium was in blos- 
som, as was also the dark purple species, and 
the hobble-bush showed its broad white cymes 
in all directions. Here and there was the mod- 
est little spring beauty (Claytonia Carolini- 
ana), and not far from the Elephant’s Head I 
discovered my first and only patch of dicentra, 
with its delicate dissected leaves and its oddly 
shaped petals of white and pale yellow. The 
false mitrewort (Tiarella cordifolia) was in 
flower likewise, and the spur which is cut off 
