146 LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. 



green warbler saying, " one, two, three-a, four," 

 and not far away the strong, brave phrases of 

 the solitary vireo were audible. A real treat 

 was the song of the ruby-crowned kinglet. It 

 reminds me of a favorite mountain cascade of 

 mine deep in hemlock woods, which has spar- 

 kling jets, quick twists in its descending current, 

 unbroken rushes over polished rock, and then 

 three or four plunges, ending in a dark pool 

 where trout linger under the foam. As we 

 looked over the water a pair of wood ducks flew 

 by, and at another time a small flock of black 

 ducks. A kingfisher passed and repassed, sound- 

 ing his harsh rattle, and a great blue-gray and 

 white marsh hawk sailed down stream along the 

 meadow. 



We camped that night eighteen miles from 

 Heard's Island and three miles below the Min- 

 ute-Man. Ball's Hill rose above us, and Great 

 Meadow, now half above water, extended before 

 us like a wide lagoon. The curving shore was 

 thickly strewn with pieces of dry wood of curi- 

 ous shapes. When my friend stated that there 

 was a wooden pail factory on the Assabet I un- 

 derstood the origin of our fuel supply. During 

 the last mile of the voyage, and while we were eat- 

 ing our supper, we heard a bittern " pumping " 

 on the meadow. At sunrise next morning two 

 could be heard from the top of the hill, one 



