time or place for this little minstrel to indulge his cheerful
strain. In the deep wilds of the Adirondacks, where few birds are
seen and fewer heard, his note was almost constantly in my ear.
Always busy, making it a point never to suspend for one moment his
occupation to indulge his musical taste, his lay is that of industry
and contentment. There is nothing plaintive or especially musical in
his performance, but the sentiment expressed is eminently that of
cheerfulness. Indeed, the songs of most birds have some human
significance, which, I think, is the source of the delight we take
in them. The song of the bobolink to me expresses hilarity; the song
sparrow's, faith; the bluebird's, love; the catbird's, pride; the
white-eyed flycatcher's, self-consciousness; that of the hermit
thrush, spiritual serenity: while there is something military in the
call of the robin.

The red-eye is classed among the flycatchers by some writers, but is
much more of a worm-eater, and has few of the traits or habits of
the _Muscicapa_ or the true _Sylvia_. He resembles somewhat the
warbling vireo, and the two birds are often confounded by careless
observers. Both warble in the same cheerful strain, but the latter
more continuously and rapidly. The red-eye is a larger, slimmer
bird, with a faint bluish crown, and a light line over the eye. His
movements are peculiar. You may see him hopping among the limbs,
exploring the under side of the leaves, peering to the right and
left, now flitting a few feet, now hopping as many, and warbling
incessantly, occasionally in a subdued tone, which sounds from a
very indefinite distance. When he has found a worm to his liking, he
turns lengthwise of the limb and bruises its head with his beak
before devouring it.