THE BITTERN'S LOVE SONG. 161 



been swept away by the currents of Beaver 

 Brook and of that greater stream called Life. 

 The millstone lies below the dam, with moss, not 

 flour, on its cheek. Clematis twines itself over 

 the ruin and seeks even to twine its name over 

 the name hallowed by time and song. 



The willows along Concord turnpike where 

 that venerable causeway crosses Rock Meadow 

 are wonderful places for birds. Even on this 

 bleak, discouraged afternoon I saw over thirty 

 species, including eight kinds of warblers. One 

 of them was the black-throated blue warbler, 

 dark, dignified and exclusive. Above he is 

 slaty-blue ; below, white. His throat, chin and 

 face are jet black. On each wing he carries a 

 triangular white spot, which marks him as far 

 as the eye can distinguish his dainty form. His 

 wife dresses in green and is one of the " wonder 

 birds" to young collectors, but she may be iden- 

 tified by the white spot on her wing. Another 

 warbler met for the first time this season was 

 the chestnut-sided. His head 'is yellow on top, 

 his back is dark, his under parts white. His eye 

 is in a black patch, and running from it down 

 his side is a chestnut streak, or series of streaks, 

 often very distinct. I once found a nest of a 

 chestnut-sided warbler, in which young birds 

 were nearly ready to fly, placed in the crotch of 

 a brake, and having no other support. Th 



