es it in the same quiet manner, unless
rudely disturbed. He is very cunning, though his wit is not profound. It
is very difficult to approach him by stealth; you will try many times
before succeeding; but seem to pass by him in a great hurry, making all
the noise possible, and with plumage furled he stands as immovable as a
knot, allowing you a good view and a good shot, if you are a sportsman.

Passing along one of the old barkpeelers' roads which wander aimlessly
about, I am attracted by a singularly brilliant and emphatic warble,
proceeding from the low bushes, and quickly suggesting the voice of the
Maryland Yellow-Throat. Presently the singer hops up on a dry twig, and
gives me a good view. Lead-colored head and neck, becoming nearly black
on the breast; clear olive-green back, and yellow belly. From his habit
of keeping near the ground, even hopping upon it occasionally, I know
him to be a Ground-Warbler; from his dark breast the ornithologist has
added the expletive Mourning, hence the Mourning Ground-Warbler.

Of this bird both Wilson and Audubon confessed their comparative
ignorance, neither ever having seen its nest or become acquainted with
its haunts and general habits. Its song is quite striking and novel,
though its voice at once suggests the class of Warblers, to which it
belongs. It is very shy and wary, flying but a few feet at a time, and
studiously concealing itself from your view. I discover but one pair
here. The female has food in her beak, but carefully avoids betraying
the locality of her nest. The Ground-Warblers all have one notable
feature,--very beautiful legs, as white and delicate as if they had
always worn silk stockings and satin slippers. High tree Warblers have
dark brown or black legs and more brilliant plumage, but less musical
ability.

The Chestnut-Sided belongs to the latter class. He is quite common in
these woods, as in all the woods about. He is one of the rarest and
handsomest of the Warblers; his white breast and throat, chestnut sides,
and yellow crown show conspicuously. Audubon did not know his haunts,
and had never seen his nest or known any naturalist who had. Last year I
found the nest of one in an uplying beech-wood, in a low bush near the
roadside, where cows passed and browsed daily. Things went on smoothly
till the Cow-Bunting stole her egg into it, when other mishaps followed,
and the nest was soon empty. A characteristic attitude of the male
during this season is