198 
THE MAINE WOODS. 
The Indian made a little smothered fire of damp 
leaves close to the back of the camp, that the smoke 
might drive through, and keep out the mosquitoes; but 
just before we fell asleep this suddenly blazed up, and 
came near setting fire to the tent. We were considerably 
molested by mosquitoes at this camp. 
Sunday, July 26. 
The note of the white-throated sparrow, a very in¬ 
spiriting but almost wiry sound, was the first heard in 
the morning, and with this all the woods rang. This 
was the prevailing bird in the northern part of Maine. 
The forest generally was all alive with them at this sea¬ 
son, and they were proportionally numerous and musical 
about Bangor. They evidently breed in that State. 
Wilson did not know where they bred, and says, “ Their 
only note is a kind of chip.” Though commonly un¬ 
seen, their simple aA, te-te-te, te-te-te , te-te-te, so sharp and 
piercing, was as distinct to the ear as the passage of a 
spark of fire shot into the darkest of the forest would be 
to the eye. I thought that they commonly uttered it as 
they flew. I hear this note for a few days only in the 
spring, as they go through Concord, and in the fall see 
them again going southward, but then they are mute. 
We were commonly aroused by their lively strain very 
early. What a glorious time they must have in that 
wilderness, far from mankind and election day! 
I told the Indian that we would go to church to Che- 
suncook this (Sunday) morning, some fifteen miles. It 
was settled weather at last. A few swallows flitted over 
the water, we heard the white throats along the shore, 
the phebe notes of the chicadee, and, I believe, red-starts, 
and moose-flies of large size pursued us in mid-stream. 
The Indian thought that we should lie by on Sunday. 
