IN THE HEMLOCKS 



in a blush rose upon his breast, and the most deli- 

 cate of pink linings to the under side of his wings. 

 His back is variegated black and white, and when 

 flying low the white shows conspicuously. If he 

 passed over your head, you would note the delicate 

 flush under his wings. 



That bit of bright scarlet on yonder dead hem- 

 lock, glowing like a live coal against the dark back- 

 ground, seeming almost too brilliant for the severe 

 northern climate, is his relative, the scarlet tanager. 

 I occasionally meet him in the deep hemlocks, and 

 know no stronger contrast in nature. I almost fear 

 he will kindle the dry limb on which he alights. 

 He is quite a solitary bird, and in this section seems 

 to prefer the high, remote woods, even going quite 

 to the mountain's top. Indeed, the event of my 

 last visit to the mountain was meeting one of these 

 brilliant creatures near the summit, in full song. 

 The breeze carried the notes far and wide. He 

 seemed to enjoy the elevation, and I imagined his 

 song had more scope and freedom than usual. 

 When he had flown far down the mountain-side, 

 the breeze still brought me his finest notes. In 

 plumage he is the most brilliant bird we have. The 

 bluebird is not entirely blue; nor will the indigo- 

 bird bear a close inspection, nor the goldfinch, nor 

 the summer redbird. But the tanager loses nothing 

 by a near view; the deep scarlet of his body and 

 the black of his wings and tail are quite perfect. 

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