BROOK AND LAGOON 181 



cross-bones." It can do no better than to keep 

 up its reputation. Has it, then, no virtues? Will 

 no one speak a good word for this plant? 



I will. 



Stand off and look at it ! As a climber does 

 it not compare finely with Virginia creeper? Will 

 you not concede that its young leaves are exqui- 

 sitely colored and delicate of texture ? How well 

 its gray -white berries harmonize with the blue 

 ones of the ampelopsis and the rich transparent 

 red of the bittersweet! 



Poison ivy reaches its full glory with the crim- 

 soning sumach in October. Mingling with the 

 brown of burdocks, pitchforks, and other disrep- 

 utable weeds with which it consorts in the dry 

 bed of a certain brook of my acquaintance, its 

 unmistakable beauty challenged my admiration. 

 Such riot of red and orange and flame color! 

 The wind, one perfect autumn day, played among 

 its leaves, lifting them that I might see them to 

 advantage. It was as if one had set fire to the 

 brook bed. The very next day, when I took the 

 Artist down there to see the wonder, there was 

 nothing left but smoke and ashes. Some one had 

 indeed set fire to the place, and burdocks and 

 ivy had perished together. 



"It's just as well," said the Artist. "Some chil- 

 dren might have seen and gathered it, and that 

 would have been a pity." 



I'm glad I saw it, though ; for now I know 

 that even the despised and maligned poison ivy 

 has its moments of beauty. 



