84 WAKE-ROBIN 
divert himself with the more exciting pursuits of 
the chase. From the tops of the dead trees along 
the border of the lake, he would sally out in all 
directions, sweeping through long curves, alternately 
mounting and descending, now reaching up for a 
fly high in air, now sinking low for one near the 
surface, and returning to his perch in a few moments 
for a fresh start. 
The pine finch was also here, though, as usual, 
never appearing at home, but with a waiting, ex- 
pectant air. Here also I met my beautiful singer, 
the hermit thrush, but with no song in his throat 
now. A week or two later and he was on his jour- 
ney southward. This was the only species of thrush 
I saw in the Adirondacks. Near Lake Sandford, 
where were large tracts of raspberry and wild cherry, 
I saw numbers of them. A boy whom we met, 
driving home some stray cows, said it was the 
“partridge-bird,” no doubt from the resemblance of 
its note, when disturbed, to the cluck of the par- 
tridge. 
Nate’s Pond contained perch and sunfish but no 
trout. Its water was not pure enough for trout. 
Was there ever any other fish so fastidious as this, 
requiring such sweet harmony and perfection of the 
elements for its production and sustenance? On 
higher ground about a mile distant was a trout 
pond, the shores of which were steep and rocky. 
Our next move was a tramp of about twelve miles 
through the wilderness, most of the way in a drench- 
ing rain, to a place called the Lower Iron Works, 
