calls from a whole colony of white-throats ^ 

 (Tom-Peabody birds) that lived on the 

 mountain-side, behind my tent, and that "Kiliooleef, 

 came one by one to sing to us, and to get ■^ w, 

 acquainted, and to share our crumbs. Some- Voice 

 times, in rainy weather, when the woods 

 seemed wetter than the lake, and Simmo 

 would be sleeping philosophically, and I 

 reading, or tying trout flies in the tent, I 

 would hear a gentle stir and a rustle under 

 the tent fly. Then, if I crept out quietly, 

 I would find Killooleet exploring my goods 

 to find where the crackers grew, or just rest- 

 ing contentedly under the fly, where it was 

 dry and comfortable. 



It was good to live there among them, 

 with the mountain at our backs and the 

 lake at our feet, and peace breathing in 

 every breeze or brooding silently over the 

 place at twilight. Rain or shine, day or 

 night, these white-throated sparrows are the 

 sunniest, cheeriest folk to be found any- 

 where in the woods. I grew to under- 

 stand and love the Milicete name, Killooleet, 

 Little Sweet- Voice, for its expressiveness. 



