184 
THE TOWHEE BUNTINGS 
Away in the distance, smiling fields of 
young and tender grain, or brown, ploughed 
patches of land are visible, in which busy 
farmers are planting seed, or tending newly- 
sprouted plants. We cross the little meadow, 
stoop, and dip from a deep eddy in the brook 
that is shaded by overhanging brakes and 
reeds, some of the cold, sparkling water in a 
piece of birch-bark that we find on the banks 
of the stream, and, refreshed by the grateful 
draught, begin to ascend the hill. 
We have hardly left the meadow, and are 
passing a thicket of blackberry bushes, when 
we notice, flitting through them, a small bird, 
greenish-olive colored on its back and lighter 
beneatli, almost white on . the abdomen, which 
constantly utters the notes chip-chip-che 
weo;’’ which being interpreted means Whom 
have we here ? ” What do you want ? ” 
We pause to observe its movements, when 
it quickly retires ; for the White-eyed Vireo, 
as it is called, is of a modest disposition, and 
dislikes to be watched. We move on, and 
discover our old friends, the Oat Birds, busily 
