ADIRONDAC. 97 



bushy parts of the fields there was a new 

 song that I was puzzled in tracing to the 

 author. It was most noticeable in the morn- 

 ing and at twilight, but was at all times sin- 

 gularly secret and elusive. I at last discov- 

 ered that it wat the white-throated sparrow, 

 a common bird all through this region. Its 

 song is very delicate and plaintive a thin, 

 wavering, tremulous whistle, which disap- 

 points one, however, as it ends when it 

 seems only to have begun. If the bird could 

 give us the finishing strain of which this 

 seems only the prelude, it would stand first 

 among feathered songsters. 



By a little trout-brook in a low part of 

 the woods adjoining the clearing, I had a 

 good time pursuing and identifying a num- 

 ber of warblers: the speckled Canada, the 

 black-throated blue, the yellow-rumped, and 

 Audubon's warbler. The latter, which was 

 leading its troop of young through a thick 

 undergrowth on the banks of the creek where 

 insects were plenty, was new to me. 



It being August, the birds were all moult- 

 ing, and sang only fitfully and by brief 

 snatches. I remember hearing but one robin 

 during the whole trip. This was by the 

 Boreas River in the deep forest. It was like 

 the voice of an old friend speaking my name. 



