warbling, helps fill the air, and the phebe does her part. The tree -sparrow, Fringilla hiemalis, and fox-colored sparrows make the meadow-sides or gardens where they are flitting, vocal, the first with its canary-like twittering, the second, with its lively ringing trills or jingle. The third is a very sweet and more powerful singer, which would be memorable if we heard him long enough. The woodpecker's tapping, though not musical, suggests pleasant associations in the cool morning, is inspiriting, enlivening. I hear no hylas nor croakers in the morning. Is it too cool for them? The gray branches of the oaks, which have lost still more of their leaves, seen against the pines when the sun is rising and falling on them, how rich and interesting! Hear the faint, swelling, far-off beat of a partridge.
p. m. To Second Division Brook. . . . . All along on the south side of this hill, on the edge of the meadow, the air resounds with the hum of honey bees, attracted by the flower of the skunk-cabbage. I first heard the fine, peculiarly sharp hum of the honey bee before I thought of them. Some hummed hollowly within the spathe, perchance to give notice to their fellows that the plant was occupied, for they repeatedly looked in and backed out on finding another. It was surprising to see them directed by their
