114 IN SILENT WOODS 



leaving them in a mute flutter long after the wind 

 has ceased. At the touch of man the flesh of this 

 flower of translucent whiteness blackens; but un- 

 troubled it will linger in its home, going through 

 various changes from a drooping to an erect flower 

 with tints toward pinkish purple for a month, or 

 even two, and I have sometimes in November, after 

 a hard frost, found its then really icy stalks. 



Yonder, quite under the Hemlock shade, the 

 stalks shoot up six inches or more before they reveal 

 the flower that caps them ; in shape it is a reversed 

 pipe bowl. Here among the Ferns, on the Beech 

 copse's open edge, though under high shade, the 

 flower -buds barely pierce the ground before re- 

 laxing, though afterward the stem attains a greater 

 length. Such faint odor as the flower has is 

 crude and chemical, as of something in a transi- 

 tion state, not yet to be determined. 



There is one day in the July woods which, to 

 me at least, is not like other days. This day is 

 when we go to the river-woods to find the mot- 

 tled-leaved Pipsissewa, or Spotted Wintergreen, in 

 its perfect bloom under the great Chestnut tree. 

 Not that it is a flower of a day, by any means, 

 for it stays the month out in southern New Eng- 

 land. It also gives good notice of the coming of 



