ADIRONDAC. 87 



sparrow, a common bird all through this region. Its 

 song is very delicate and plaintive a thin, waver- 

 ing, tremulous whistle, which disappoints one, how- 

 ever, as it ends when it seems only to have begun. 

 If the bird could give us the finishing strain of which 

 this seems only the prelude, it would stand first among 

 feathered songsters. 



By a little trout-brook in a low part of the woods 

 adjoining the clearing, I had a good time pursuing 

 and identifying a number of warblers the speckled 

 Canada, the black-throated blue, the yellow-rumped, 

 and Audubon's warbler. The latter, which was lead- 

 ing its troop of young through a thick undergrowth 

 on the banks of the creek where insects were plenty, 

 was new to me. 



It being August, the birds were all moulting and 

 Bang only fitfully and by brief snatches. I remember 

 hearing but one robin during the whole trip. This 

 was by the Boreas River in the deep forest. It was 

 like the voice of an old friend speaking my name. 



From Hewett's, after engaging his youngest son, 

 the "Bub" of the family, a young man about 

 twenty and a thorough woodsman, as guide, we took 

 to the woods in good earnest, our destination being 

 the Stillwater of the Boreas-^ a long deep dark 

 reach in one of the remote branches of the Hudson, 

 about six miles distant. Here we paused a couple of 

 days, putting up in a dilapidated lumberman's shanty, 

 and cooking our fish over an old stove which had 

 been left there. The most noteworthv incident of 



