July 
is very attractive, seems to me a trifle tiresome. 
There is an assertiveness about any pure color, 
still more about strongly contrasting colors, 
that is wanting in plumage so mildly shaded 
and streaked throughout as the yellow bird’s. 
Its tone is mild, its plumage mild, its manner 
mild ; it is worse than sweet, it is sweetish, and 
all in all, the little creature impresses one as 
being excessively amzable—a saintly quality 
that is quite exasperating always to live with. 
Occasional angles in one’s nature are refreshing 
interruptions to unending curvilinear mildness. 
A more admirable creature, with a vig- 
orous dash in its character, is the Maryland 
‘¢ yellow throat,’’ also called ground warbler, 
as it nests on the ground, and is always found 
on or near it. The bar of jet-black across the 
forehead and extending down on each side of 
the head, gives it what some may smile at my 
calling a ‘‘ strong face ’’’—forceful but not bold, 
and tempered by the rich yellow on the breast. 
With plump and shapely form and graceful mo- 
tion, it has a certain air of both dignity and 
vivacity that makes it an ever welcome object. 
It prefers more open places than most of the 
warblers, and delights in bushland, and swampy 
ground, and the margin of streams. In refine- 
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