AT NATURAL BRIDGE 219 



at hand. Once three of them sat side by 

 side before one of the openings, which after 

 all may have admitted to some sizable cav- 

 ern wherein different pairs were living to- 

 gether. They are the least beautiful of 

 swallows, but for this time, at all events, 

 they had displayed a remarkably pretty taste 

 in the choice of a nesting-site. 



The birds of Cedar Creek, however, were 

 not the rough-wings, but the Louisiana water 

 thrushes. On my first jaunt through the 

 ravine (May 1) I counted seven of them, 

 here one and there another, the greater part 

 in free song ; and while I never found so 

 many again at any one visit, I was never 

 there without seeing and hearing at least 

 two or three. It was exactly such a spot as 

 the water thrush loves, — a quick stream, 

 with boulders and abundant vegetation. The 

 song, I am sorry to be obliged to confess, as 

 I have confessed before, is not to me all that 

 it appears to be to other listeners ; probably 

 not all that a longer acquaintance and a 

 more intimate association would make it. It 

 is loud and ringing, — for a warbler's song, 

 I mean ; in that respect well adapted to the 

 bird's ordinary surroundings, being easily 



