Moccasin-Flo^vers 143 



were ablaze with tasselled sedges and nodding flowers 

 of Iris, — a sight well worth a long journey to see. 



I rounded about the swamp, and passed out at the 

 north end, near Washon Bridge House. Here I as- 

 cended westward, — over the knob-like hill north of 

 Pownal Pond. On the opposite slope I descended, find- 

 ing nothing but trees and fences in my way. I observed 

 a hollow-hearted chestnut tree, — a shell and nothing 

 more. I could scarcely see where its green branches 

 could gain nourishment. The leaves were, however, 

 the largest in the wood, and the buds were perfect. 

 The heart of this old tree was an empty, blackened 

 space, the outer bark weather-worn and crumbling in 

 decay. 



Arriving on the north shore of the pond, I searched 

 for the aquatic plant Polygonum amphibium, which I 

 had observed last season along the muddy pools. The 

 fencing of the sheep-pasture here debarred very free 

 progress about the shore. I was forced to climb the 

 hill for some distance to find an opening through the 

 network of barbed wires. The day was warm, and the 

 sheep had taken shelter in the shade of the pines on 

 the hillside. 



The small pine grove along the west shore of Pow- 

 nal Pond is often used as a picnic ground. Years ago 

 the south shore of this lake was clothed with dense 

 oak, pine, and maple trees. These vales were the 

 homes of many sturdy settlers while the fields were 

 being cleared. The stone walls which they erected 

 outlast the memory of their builders, and are the only 



