solitary white flower which rises above the moss, with radical,
heart-shaped leaves, and a blossom precisely like the liverwort except
in color, but which is not put down in my botany,--or to observe the
ferns, of which I count six varieties, some gigantic ones nearly
shoulder-high.

At the foot of a rough, scraggy yellow birch, on a bank of club-moss, so
richly inlaid with partridge-berry and curious shining leaves,--with
here and there in the bordering a spire of the false wintergreen
(_Pyrola rotundifolia_) strung with faint pink flowers and exhaling the
breath of a May orchard,--that it looks too costly a couch for such an
idler, I recline to note what transpires. The sun is just past the
meridian, and the afternoon chorus is not yet in full tune. Most birds
sing with the greatest spirit and vivacity in the forenoon, though there
are occasional bursts later in the day, in which nearly all voices join;
while it is not till the twilight that the full power and solemnity of
the thrush's hymn is felt.

My attention is soon arrested by a pair of Humming-Birds, the
Ruby-Throated, disporting themselves in a low bush a few yards from me.
The female takes shelter amid the branches, and squeaks exultingly as
the male, circling above, dives down as if to dislodge her. Seeing me,
he drops like a feather on a slender twig, and in a moment both are
gone. Then, as if by a preconcerted signal, the throats are all atune. I
lie on my back with eyes half closed, and analyze the chorus of
Warblers, Thrushes, Finches, and Flycatchers; while, soaring above all,
a little withdrawn and alone, rises the divine soprano of the Hermit.
That richly modulated warble proceeding from the top of yonder birch,
and which unpractised ears would mistake for the voice of the Scarlet
Tanager, comes from that rare visitant, the Rose-breasted Grosbeak. It
is a strong, vivacious strain, a bright noonday song, full of health and
assurance, indicating fine talents in the performer, but not genius. As
I come up under the tree he casts his eye down at me, but continues his
song. This bird is said to be quite common in the Northwest, but he is
rare in the Eastern districts. His beak is disproportionately large and
heavy, like a huge nose, which slightly mars his good looks; but Nature
has made it up to him in a blush rose upon his breast, and the most
delicate of pink linings to the under side of his wings. His back is
variegated black and white, and when flyi