LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 37 



and feeling no assurance that so doing would 

 bring me any nearer to Shellmound, I made 

 my way back to the Read House, and took 

 a car for Lookout Mountain. In it I sat 

 face to face with the same conspicuous pla- 

 card, announcing an excursion for that day 

 by the large and commodious steamer So- 

 and-So, from such a wharf, at eight o'clock. 

 But I then noticed that intending passen- 

 gers were invited, in smaller type, to call at 

 the office of the company, where doubtless 

 it would be politely confided to them that 

 the advertisement was a " back number." 

 So the mistake was my own, after all, and, 

 as the American habit is, I had been blam- 

 ing the servants of the public unjustly. 



I was no sooner on the summit than I 

 hastened to the pine wood. At first it 

 seemed to be empty, but after a little, hear- 

 ing the drawling kree^ hree^ kree, of a black- 

 throated blue, I followed it, and found the 

 bird. Next a magnolia dropped into sight, 

 and then a red-cheeked Cape May, the sec- 

 ond one I had ever seen, after fifteen or 

 twenty years of expectancy. He threaded 

 a leafless branch back and forth on a level 

 with my eyes. I was glad I had come. 



