IN THE HEMLOCKS. 79 



and copious strain to be heard in these 

 woods. It is quite destitute of the trills and 

 the liquid, silvery, bubbling notes that char- 

 acterize the wren's ; but there runs through 

 it a round, richly modulated whistle, very 

 sweet and very pleasing. The call of the 

 robin is brought in at a certain point with 

 marked effect, and, throughout, the variety 

 is so great and the strain so rapid that the 

 impression is as of two or three birds singing 

 at the same time. He is not common here, 

 and I only find him in these or similar 

 woods. His color is peculiar, and looks as 

 if it might have been imparted by dipping a 

 brown bird in diluted pokeberry juice. Two 

 or three more dippings would have made the 

 purple complete. The female is the color 

 of the song -sparrow, a little larger, with 

 heavier beak, and tail much more forked. 



In a little opening quite free from brush 

 and trees, I step down to bathe my hands in 

 the brook, when a small, light slate-colored 

 bird flutters out of the bank, not three feet 

 from my head, as I stoop down, and as if se- 

 verely lamed or injured, flutters through the 

 grass and into the nearest bush. As I do not 

 follow, but remain near the nest, she chips 

 sharply, which brings the male, and I see it 



