46 ALONG THE WATERWAYS 



in such rich profusion in Lake Wacabuc that a 

 boat could barely push its way among the tangled 

 pads of leaves, buds, flowers and seed -pods, oddly 

 shaped like the nozzle of a watering pot. It was a 

 sight to make one for the time forget New Eng- 

 land's rocky hills and cobble -strewn pastures. But 

 even among these much beauty goes a-begging, 

 and is passed by unheeded, because it is too near 

 home to be thought worth seeking out and cherish- 

 ing. People make coaching tours the country over 

 for love of scenery who do not know of the near-by 

 flower landscapes, or of the waterways that sur- 

 round their very homes, except as drinking places 

 for the cattle in the pastures. 



"Come up to the other pond," said Time o' 

 Year, breaking my reverie at the right moment; 

 for the picknickers, whom we had left behind, were 

 jangling a dinner-bell to collect their scattered com- 

 pany, and the howls and cat -calls that sounded by 

 way of response were jarring. 



"If they 'd seen your trick-box nothing would 

 have saved yer. You J d have had to take 'em all, 

 sure, 'nless you went and sat in the middle o' the 

 pond," chuckled Time o' Year, wickedly laughing 

 as he saw me huddle my camera up tight in its 

 waterproof cover at the bare thought. 



