IN THE HEMLOCKS 57 
it a round, richly modulated whistle, very sweet and 
very pleasing. The call of the robin is brought in 
at a certain point with marked effect, and, throughout, 
the variety is so great and the strain so rapid that the 
impression is as of two or three birds singing at the 
same time. He is not common here, and I only 
find him in these or similar woods. His color is 
peculiar, and looks as if it might have been imparted 
by dipping a brown bird in diluted pokeberry juice. 
Two or three more dippings would have made the 
purple complete. The female is the color of the 
song sparrow, a little larger, with heavier beak, and 
tail much more forked. 
In a little opening quite free from brush and 
trees, I step down to bathe my hands in the brook, 
when a small, light slate-colored bird flutters out of 
the bank, not three feet from my head, as I stoop 
down, and, as if severely lamed or injured, flutters 
through the grass and into the nearest bush, As I 
do not follow, but remain near the nest, she chips 
sharply, which brings the male, and I see it is the 
speckled Canada warbler. I find no authority in 
the books for this bird to build upon the ground, 
yet here is the nest, made chiefly of dry grass, set in 
a slight excavation in the bank not two feet from 
the water, and looking a little perilous to anything 
but ducklings or sandpipers. There are two young 
birds and one little speckled egg just pipped. But 
how is this? what mystery is here? One nestling 
is much larger than the other, monopolizes most of 
the nest, and lifts its open mouth far above that 
