110 AN AFTERNOON BY THE RIVEB. 



kind were rare about Chattanooga, though 

 afterwards, in the forests of Walden's Ridge, 

 they became as common as I ever saw them 

 anywhere. The two invisible Kentuckies 

 wore out my patience, but as I came to the 

 bars another sang near me. Him, by good 

 luck, I saw in the act, and for the time, at 

 least, my doubts were quieted. 



In the woods and thickets, as I sauntered 

 along, I heard blue golden-winged warblers, 

 two more Kentuckies, a blue-gray gnat- 

 catcher, a Baehman's finch, a wood pewee, a 

 quail, and the inevitable chats, indigo-birds, 

 prairie warblers, and white -eyed vireos. 

 Then, as I drew near the car track, I de- 

 scended again to the river-bank and walked 

 in the shade of lofty buttonwoods, willows, 

 and white maples, with mistletoe perched in 

 the upper branches, and poison ivy climbing 

 far up the trunks ; the whole standing in 

 great contrast to the comparatively stunted 

 growth, mainly oak, — and largely black 

 jack, — on the dry soil of the hillside. 

 Across the river were broad, level fields, 

 brown with cultivation, in which men were 

 at work, and from the same direction came 

 loud rasping cries of batrachians of some 



