AT NATURAL BRIDGE 235 



to going elsewhere. First, however, I would 

 try the woods once more, if perchance some- 

 thing might have happened overnight. Oth- 

 erwise, so I informed the landlord, I would 

 return in season for an early luncheon, and 

 should expect to be driven to the station for 

 the noon train northward. 



I went to a promising-looking hill covered 

 with hard-wood forest, a spot already visited 

 more than once, Buck Hill I heard it 

 called afterward, and was no sooner well 

 in the woods than it became evident that 

 something had happened. The treetops were 

 swarming with birds, and I had my hands 

 full with trying to see and name them. Old 

 trees are grand creations, among the no- 

 blest works of God, I often think ; but for 

 a bird-gazer they have one disheartening 

 drawback, especially when, as now, the 

 birds not only take to the topmost boughs 

 (even the hummer and the magnolia war- 

 bler, so my notes say, went with the multi- 

 tude to do evil), but, to make matters worse, 

 are on the move northward or southward, or 

 flitting in simple restlessness from hill to 

 hill. However, I did my best with them 

 while the fun lasted. Then all in a mo- 



