IN THE HEMLOCKS. 7 1 



A far sweeter strain, falling on the ear with the true 

 sylvan cadence, is that of the black-throated green- 

 backed warbler, whom I meet at various points. He 

 has no superiors among the true Sylvia. His song is 

 very plain and simple, but remarkably pure and tender, 



and might be indicated by straight lines, thus, 



V ; the first two marks representing two sweet, sil- 

 very notes, in the same pitch of voice, and quite unac- 

 cented ; the latter marks, the concluding notes, wherein 

 the tone and inflection are changed. The throat and 

 breast of the male are a rich black like velvet, his face 

 yellow, and his back a yellowish green. 



Beyond the Barkpeeling, where the woods are min- 

 gled hemlock, beech, and birch, the languid midsum- 

 mer note of the black- throated blue-back falls on my 

 ear. "Twea, twea, twea-e-e ! " in the upward slide, 

 and with the peculiar z-ing of summer insects, but not 

 destitute of a certain plaintive cadence. It is one of 

 the most languid, unhurried sounds in all the woods. 

 I feel like reclining upon the dry leaves at once. Au- 

 dubon says he has never heard his love-song ; but this 

 is all the love-song he has, and he is evidently a very 

 plain hero with his little brown mistress. He assumes 

 few attitudes, and is not a bold and striking gymnast, 

 like many of his kindred. He has a preference for 

 dense woods of beech and maple, moves slowly amid 

 the lower branches and smaller growths, keeping from 

 eight to ten feet from the ground, and repeating now 

 and then his listless, indolent strain. His back and 



