66 FOOTING IT IN FRANCONIA 



partly with this place in my eye that I had 

 chosen my route, remembering an hour of 

 much interest here some years ago with a 

 large flock of migrants. To-day, as it hap- 

 pened, the bushes were comparatively bird- 

 less. White-throats and snowbirds were 

 present, of course, and ruby-crowned king- 

 lets, with a solitary vireo or two, but nothing 

 out of the ordinary. The prospect, however, 

 without being magnificent or for Franco- 

 nia extensive, was full of attractiveness. 

 Gale Eiver hastening through a gorge over- 

 hung with forest, directly on my right, 

 Streeter Pond farther away (two deer had 

 been shot beside it that morning, as I learned 

 before night, news of that degree of im- 

 portance travels fast), and the gay-colored 

 hills toward Littleton and Bethlehem, 

 maple grove on maple grove, with all their 

 banners flying, these made a delightsome 

 panorama, shifting with every twist in the 

 road and with every rod of the ascent ; so 

 that I had excuse more than sufficient for 

 continually stopping to breathe and face 

 about. In one place I remarked a goodly 

 bed of coltsfoot leaves, noticeable for their 



