WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



weed proper (/. fulva) ; its brother-species, the snap- 

 weed or touch-me-not (I. pallida), will not show it. 

 But these are not the only blossoms here. Be- 

 side them stand the dull white umbels of the wild 

 carroty and over them bend the conspicuous plumes 

 of dozens of Joe Pye weeds — the tallest and hand- 

 somest of the bonesets or hempweeds. Nothing is 

 more interesting in the moist hollows all over this 

 part of the country than this big, strong, showy 

 plant, carrying heads of blossoms as big as a half- 

 bushel measure. Close at hand each flower in 

 the dense cluster is a tiny, lilac-pink thing, with 

 two long, white threads extended for more than its 

 length. Looking closer, you see that what you 

 took for one flower is a tight bunch of half a dozen, 

 and a dozen or so of these form a tuft, a great num- 

 ber of which compose the flower-head that attracts 

 your attention. This explains why the deep, warm 

 lilac seems hidden in a gauze of white; you see it 

 through hundreds of waving pistil-threads. No- 

 where have I ever seen these weeds in such lux- 

 urious masses, empurpling the whole surface of a 

 swamp with their huge chrysanthemum-like heads, 

 as at a little place far up the Hackensack River 

 called Pye's Corners. I thought I had hit upon 

 the origin of the curious name, which a botanist 



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