TKe Bogs of Htcho^wog 29 



of a search party securing my ** embalmed heart," if 

 once I became fast in the mud, so I began to edge up 

 toward firmer ground and the rocky hills near by. 



This was the most uncertain swamp I had ever 

 traversed, and not quite safe for one to wade through 

 alone. It is reputed to have been at one time the bed 

 of a great lake, as evidenced by the terraced hillsides 

 about it. Its waters might still linger beneath the 

 black-peat and forest debris which support the trees 

 and spongy sphagnum. However, a fence closed off 

 the most dangerous parts of the bog to keep back the 

 cows from the mire and ''dead holes," as the un- 

 fathomable places are designated by the lads who 

 penetrate these bogs for the marsh cranberries in the 

 autumn. 



I searched through this meadow for the Large Purple- 

 Fringed Orchis {Habenaria grandiflora), thinking per- 

 haps I might find the leaves, although I was somewhat 

 too early to secure the flowers, since they are not due 

 until June 20th and later. 



On striking out for the hillside path, I found many 

 problems to solve. It appeared impossible to gain a 

 firm or safe footing in the sphagnum and mud, so se- 

 curing a fence board which had been hurled about the 

 marsh by the winds and storms, I slapped it down upon 

 the soft earth and moss, and walked its length of eight 

 feet. Then quickly relaying it, while my feet sank 

 lower and lower in the moss, I hastened to pull out my 

 muddy footgear and walked the length of my bridge 

 once more, — repeating this perilous feat several times, 



