ON THE ST. AUGUSTINE ROAD. 169 



and a mocking-bird singing side by side; 

 the mocker upon a telegraph pole, and the 

 thrasher on the wire, halfway between the 

 mocker and the next pole. They sang and 

 sang, while I stood between them in the cut 

 below and listened ; and if my life had de- 

 pended on my seeing how one song differed 

 from the other, I could not have done it. 

 With my eyes shut, the birds might have 

 changed places, if they could have done 

 it quickly enough, and I should have 

 been none the wiser. 



As I have said, I followed the road over 

 the nearly level plateau for what I guessed 

 to be about three miles. Then I found my- 

 self in a bit of hollow that seemed made 

 for a stopping-place, with a plantation road 

 running off to the right, and a hillside corn- 

 field of many acres on the left. In the field 

 were a few tall dead trees. At the tip of 

 one sat a sparrow-hawk, and to the trunk 

 of another clung a red-bellied woodpecker, 

 who, with characteristic foolishness, sat be- 

 side his hole calling persistently, and then, 

 as if determined to publish what other birds 

 so carefully conceal, went inside, thrust out 

 his head, and resumed his clatter. Here, 



