174 LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. 



far removed from the upper coloring of the 

 olive-backed thrush. Below he is white with 

 dusky spots on his breast and sides ; and so is 

 the olive-backed thrush. His eyes are large and 

 earnest like a thrush's, and his nest is placed 

 upon the ground like that of the hermit thrush. 

 His dark orange crown set in black is his one 

 family emblem which a thrush would repudiate. 

 The ovenbird by the Assabet dropped to the 

 ground when he saw me and stole away as 

 slowly and silently as though he had been a 

 bittern, expert in the art of gliding. 



At six o'clock, I stood on a low bridge over 

 the Assabet at Whitman's Crossing. The air 

 was full of swallows, the bushes and weeds were 

 rich in blackbirds, snowy and rose-tinted blossoms 

 decked the orchards, a fair pale sunset presided 

 over the sky and looked at itself in the river. 

 A snake with his head reared above the ripples 

 swam swiftly across from one weedy shore to the 

 other. The whistle of the train echoed a mile 

 away, and its growing thunder was in my ears. 

 Looking down the stream I could see a distant 

 hill ; nearer were two wooded points, one on the 

 east, one on the west ; nearer still a meadow full of 

 rank grass, and at my feet a mirror of blue 

 water. The coloring of that farewell glimpse of 

 Assabet was exquisite. The hill, covered prob- 

 ably with scrub oak, was rosy purple ; of the 



