XI 



May SHo-wers and WKite Moccasin- 

 riow^ers 



If a man walk in the woods for love of them half of each 

 day, he is in danger of being regarded a loafer ; but if he spend 

 his whole day as a speculator, shearing off those woods and 

 making earth bare before her time, he is esteemed an industri- 

 ous and enterprising citizen. — Thoreau, Letters. 



THERE is something charming about an un- 

 wearied rain in spring. I chose a day upon 

 which rain was falling to journey through 

 the swamps, observing my orchid buds. The 

 clouds would lift now and then with sudden brighten- 

 ing, although the gentle patter of the rain was con- 

 stant. The wind scarcely stirred the leaves. Nature 

 was quiet in her weeping, as a heart that has a griev- 

 ance which it does not care to share with any one. The 

 meadows grew green, the buds expanded, and the 

 heart of May began to pulsate and sing new songs. 



I started out to visit the Glen of Coraus, but found 

 the underbrush too laden with rain. I then decided to 

 go through the fields and seek the Chalk Pond colo- 

 nies. Over the hills lowered a heavy fog, which, as 

 the rain slackened, would for a time lift again, show- 

 ing the blue peaks in the distance. I turned westward 

 137 



