S^wamp of Oracles 173 



Cypripedium which, as a rule, only seeks the dryer 

 edges of the swamps. The I^arge Yellow Moccasin- 

 Flowers were beginning to fade and turn brown. The 

 swamp was luxuriant in its growth of ferns and vines 

 and foliage. Dogwood trees are very scarce here, but 

 the azaleas, mountain laurel, or calico-bush, and the 

 lambkill flowers make up for the missing snowy 

 blossoms. 



In the heart of the swamp I was attracted by an up- 

 rooted tree, about whose stump stagnant water had 

 settled, now reflecting the shadows and sunshine as a 

 miniature lake. Several baby deer-mice were in the 

 pool. Many were dead, and the live ones were swim- 

 ming about in desperation. I counted six or seven in 

 all. I fished them out, and placed them on the sun- 

 dried moss, which covered the roots of the turnover, 

 forming little islands in the lake. But these white- 

 faced, pink-eyed little creatures were no safer after my 

 rescue than before ; for soon, in their nervous fright, 

 they crawled ofi" the mossy islands, and were still swim- 

 ming when — not wishing to witness the end — I went 

 away. It was one of the many mid- forest tragedies 

 which Nature seems to plan with so little philosophy, 

 and which I knew I could not prevent. Had I re- 

 moved them from the water again and placed them at 

 a distance from the mud-hole over which they were 

 born, certain starvation would have awaited them. In 

 the topmost parts of the overturned stump, amid the 

 roots and peat, a pile of forest leaves was rudely 

 huddled, forming the deer-mouse mansion, hidden 



