98 IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 



nothing but a transient puddle caused by the 

 melting snow, was a tiny fish. I asked him by 

 what miracle he got there, but he could give no 

 explanation. He, too, might well enough have 

 joined the noble company of Emersonian s : 



" I never thought to ask, I never knew ; 

 But, in my simple ignorance, suppose 

 The self-same Power that brought me here brought you." 



Almost at the very top of Mount Clinton I 

 was saluted by the familiar ditty of the Nash- 

 ville warbler. I could hardly believe my ears ; 

 but there was no mistake, for the bird soon ap- 

 peared in plain sight. Had it been one of the 

 hardier-seeming species, the yellow-rumped for 

 example, I should not have thought it very 

 strange ; but this dainty HelmintJiophaga^ so 

 common in the vicinity of Boston, did appear to 

 be out of his latitude, summering here on Al- 

 pine heights. With a good pair of wings, and 

 the whole continent to choose from, he surely 

 might have found some more congenial spot 

 than this in which to bring up his little family. 

 I took his presence to be only an individual 

 freak, but a subsequent visitor, who made the 

 ascent from the Glen, reported the same spe- 

 cies on that side also, and at about, the same 

 height. 



These signs of life on bleak mountain ridges 

 are highly interesting and suggestive. The 



