LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 35 



commands the finest of valley prospects; 

 and tlien, after another turn through the 

 pines, where the warblers were still busy 

 with their all-day meal, — but not the new 

 warbler, for which I was still looking, — I 

 crossed the summit and made the descent 

 by the St. Elmo road, as before. How long 

 I was on the way I am unable to tell ; I had 

 learned the brevity of the road, and, like a 

 schoolboy with his tart, I made the most 

 of it. Midway down I caught sudden sight 

 of an olive bird in the upper branch of a 

 tree, with something black about the crown 

 and the cheek. " What 's that ? " I exclaimed 5 

 and on the instant the stranger flew across 

 the road and up the steep mountain side. 

 I pushed after him in hot haste, over the 

 huge boulders, and there he stood on the 

 ground, singing, — a Kentucky warbler. 

 Seeing him so hastily, and on so high a 

 perch, and missing his yellow under-parts, I 

 had failed to recognize him. As it was, I 

 now heard his song for the first time, and 

 rejoiced to find it worthy of its beautiful 

 author : klurwee, klurvjee, Jdurivee, Murwee^ 

 hlurwee ; a succession of clear, sonorous dis- 

 syllables, in a fuller voice than most warblers 



