Midsummer 



Under the pine-trees are the glossy 

 leaves and nodding bells of the winter- 

 green ; while here and there spring grace- 

 ful, wax-like clusters of parasitic Indian 

 pipe, the fresh blossoms nodding from 

 leafless, fleshy stalks, the older ones 

 erecting themselves preparatory to fruit- 

 ing. When we pick these odd-looking 

 flowers they turn black from our touch, 

 adding their protest to the cry against the 

 despoiler, and invalidating their claim to 

 the title which they sometimes bear of 

 "corpse -plant." 



From some deep shadow gleam the 

 coral-like berries of the early elder, or 

 the bright, rigid clusters of the bane- 

 berry. On the low bush - honeysuckle 

 the deeper-colored yellow blossoms an- 

 nounce to the insect world that they 

 have no attractions to offer in the way 

 of pollen or honey, their fertilization be- 

 ing achieved already. 



But at present the woods are not alto- 

 86 



