WATER BORDERS 



and gloom of the windy rooms of pines, in 

 gray rock shelters, and by the ooze of blind 

 springs, and their juxtapositions are the 

 best imaginable. Lilies come up out of 

 fern beds, columbine swings over meadow- 

 sweet, white rein-orchids quake in the lean- 

 ing grass. Open swales, where in wet years 

 may be running water, are plantations of 

 false hellebore ( Veratrum Califoruicum), 

 tall, branched candelabra of greenish bloom 

 above the sessile, sheathing, boat-shaped 

 leaves, semi - translucent in the sun. A 

 stately plant of the lily family, but why 

 "false?" It is frankly offensive in its 

 character, and its young juices deadly as 

 any hellebore that ever grew. 



Like most mountain herbs it has an 



uncanny haste to bloom. One hears by 



night, when all the wood is still, the crepi- 



tatious rustle of the unfolding leaves and 



218 



