PEPACTON 



yonder woods, where the ground is moistened by 

 hidden springs, and where there is a little opening 

 amid the trees, we shall find the closed gentian, 

 a rare flower in this locality. I had walked this way 

 many times before I chanced upon its retreat, and 

 then I was following a line of bees. I lost the bees, 

 but I got the gentians. How curious this flower 

 looks with its deep blue petals folded together so 

 tightly, a bud and yet a blossom ! It is the nun 

 among our wild flowers, a form closely veiled 

 and cloaked. The buccaneer bumblebee sometimes 

 tries to rifle it of its sweets. I have seen the blos- 

 som with the bee entombed in it. He had forced 

 his way into the virgin corolla as if determined to 

 know its secret, but he had never returned with 

 the knowledge he had gained. 



After a refreshing walk of a couple of miles we 

 reach a point where we will make our first trial, 

 a high stone wall that runs parallel with the wooded 

 ridge referred to, and separated from it by a broad 

 field. There are bees at work there on that golden- 

 rod, and it requires but little manoeuvring to sweep 

 one into our box. Almost any other creature rudely 

 and suddenly arrested in its career, and clapped 

 into a cage in this way, would show great confusion 

 and alarm. The bee is alarmed for a moment, but 

 the bee has a passion stronger than its love of life or 

 fear of death, namely, desire for honey, not simply 

 to eat, but to carry home as booty. " Such rage of 

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