THE PITCHER PLANT 



There is a human interest in this peculiar inhabitant 

 of swamps and bogs. Its pitcher -like leaves, 

 mysteriously full of water, graceful in form, and 

 delicately marked with purple, red, and brown, its 

 carnivorous habits, its round, rich, purple-red 

 flowers nodding on their tall and solitary stalks, all 

 serve to give it character and make a visit to its 

 favourite haunts a memorable event. The sphagnum 

 swamp which a utilitarian age would desecrate by 

 transformation into briquettes of peat fuel, the swamp 

 where the Pink Lady*s Slipper grows, where the 

 carnivorous Sundew is found, and the Pyrola and 

 Lady^s Tresses perfume the air, where the elastic, 

 spongy carpet of moss is so yielding that a visitor 

 feels impelled to keep on the move, while a heavy 

 tread shakes the neighbouring Tamaracks — there is 

 the home of the Pitcher Plant. 



The Pitchers are now thawing loose from the 

 surrounding snow and ice, but the frozen water has 

 not burst the yielding leaves. They will survive the 

 early summer and sustain the flowers until a new set 

 bursts through close to the roots, when the older 

 Pitchers dry up and return to the swampy soil. These 



