Under the Oaks and Elsewhere 



that fell a year ago and escaped squirrels, mice 

 and worms, are now pretty stems, half a foot 

 high, and with two broad leaves. In spots hun- 

 dreds of these hide the moss, and, pigmies as 

 they are, make a bold front and stand ready to 

 possess the land. Elsewhere I see little, low 

 bush huckleberries, very pretty in their blos- 

 soming days; and nearby is spicewood, beauti- 

 ful when its golden bloom sparkles through the 

 April woods, fragrant at all times, and still 

 partly in leaf. It is a shrub to remember when 

 you brush its twigs aside, and, bruising its 

 leaves, find your hands scented with the refined 

 essence of long summer days ; an odor equal to 

 conjuring up all the glory of the past. 



Where now there are but crushed and with- 

 ered leaves I see as distinctly as ever the cypri- 

 pediums, their strange, mottled purple blooms 

 brightening the gray moss about them. Rattle- 

 snake plantain, too, and rattlesnake weed more 

 abundant and quite as pretty. Very barren, so 

 it is said, is this mossy forest floor. I have 

 heard this said by more than one person while 

 they stood in the shadows of the old oaks and 

 had all this royal bloom and shrubbery about 

 them. Surely stout timber is a goodly growth, 



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