A MOUNTAIN POND 93 



all my imaginary mnemonic powers, have 

 long ago forgotten. 



The same lady had the rare Shortia gala- 

 cifolia growing transplanted in her 

 grounds, and her husband volunteered to 

 show me one of the few places in the neigh- 

 borhood of Highlands (this, too, on his own 

 land) where the true lily-of-the-valley 

 identical with the European plant of our 

 gardens grows wild. It was something I 

 had greatly desired to see, and was now in 

 bloom. Still another man but he was 

 only a summer cottager took me to look 

 at a specimen of the Carolina hemlock 

 (Tsuga Caroliniana), a tree of the very 

 existence of which I had before been igno- 

 rant. The truth is that the region is most 

 exceptionally rich in its flora, and the peo- 

 ple, to their honor be it recorded, are equally 

 exceptional in that they appreciate the fact. 



A small magnolia-tree (JM. Fraseri), in 

 bloom everywhere along the brooksides, did 

 not attract me to any special degree till one 

 day, in an idle hour at Stewart's Pond, I 

 plucked a half-open bud. I thought I had 

 never known so rare a fragrance ; delicate 

 and wholesome beyond comparison, and yet 



