274 I n Touch with Nature. 



semblance to the plant mentioned very naturally 

 gave rise to the common name. 



Time and again, as my companions wandered 

 away in search of new treasures, I fell a-dreaming ; 

 and therein lies a merit of a wet day in the woods. 

 The patter of the rain upon the carriage-roof, like 

 the songs of childhood, brought back that other, 

 beneath which I can never rest again, the roof of 

 the little unceiled chamber of the old farm-house, 

 where I whiled away the rainy days of forty years 

 ago. The same low plaint of the dripping trees 

 filled the air ; the same gray mist walled in our little 

 world ; the same dull, leaden sky shut out the sun. 

 But never a hint of sadness sobered us then ; why 

 should it now ? Why, indeed? But how usually 

 it does ! Be the effort ever so sincere, we fall short 

 of perfect joy, having put by childish things. I 

 know I love the woods as when a child, but their 

 greeting now is more formal. I can chase a but- 

 terfly with old-time ardor, but the ecstasy of vic- 

 tory is mine no longer. It is a melancholy change 

 from loving a captive for its beauty only to merely 

 prizing a specimen because of its rarity. 



I have said there were no birds about the woods. 



