FIVE DAYS ON MOUNT MANSFIELD. 99 



bark of that decaying log. So, peradven- 

 ture, may we ourselves be living in darkness 

 without knowing it, while spiritual intelli- 

 gences look on with wondering pity to see us 

 so in love with our prison-house. Well, 

 yonder panorama was beautiful to me, at all 

 events, however it might look to more ex- 

 alted beings, and, like my brother under the 

 spruce-tree bark, I would make the best of 

 life as I found it. 



This way my thoughts were running when 

 all at once two birds dashed by me a 

 blackpoll warbler in hot pursuit of an olive - 

 backed thrush. The thrush alighted in a 

 tree and commenced singing, and the war- 

 bler sat by and waited, following the univer- 

 sal rule that a larger bird is never to be at- 

 tacked except when on the wing. The thrush 

 repeated his strain once or twice, and then 

 flew to another tree, the little fellow after 

 him with all speed. Again the olive-back 

 perched and sang, and again the black-poll 

 waited. Three times these manoauvres were 

 repeated, before the birds passed out of my 

 range. Some wrong-doing, real or fancied, 

 on the part of the larger bird, had excited 

 the ire of the warbler. Why should he be 



