Alpine Blossoms of tHe Dome 203 



tant sounds came whispering to me from out this wild 

 solitude of Nature. The myster}' of wild wood isola- 

 tion, in the presence of the scars of ages, took possession 

 of me, and filled me with a nameless fear. I gave vent 

 to a wild howl in order to relieve the tensity and por- 

 tentousness of the situation. It was a damp, mossy 

 place, such as bears, lynxes, and wild cats choose in 

 which to nap during the day, being located in their run 

 from the Petersburgh Hills to the Dome of the Green 

 Mountains eastward, above. As Thoreau described 

 one of the Maine woods swamps: " It was ready to echo 

 the growl of a bear, the howl of a wolf, or the scream 

 of a panther; but when you get fairly into the middle 

 of one of these grim forests, you are surprised to find 

 that the larger inhabitants are not at home commonly, 

 but have left only a puny red squirrel to bark at you. 

 Generally speaking, a howling wilderness does not 

 howl: it is the imagination of the traveler that does the 

 howling." ' 



I ventured on farther east, until I came to the true 

 spring of the swamp. Every swampy region reveals 

 innumerable springs, and this swamp was no exception. 

 Many were oozing through the carpets of moss. Around 

 such fountains I searched for the familiar leaves of 

 Moccasin-Flowers without success. 



I returned to the open pastures, all fear of the wilder- 

 ness having subsided. I looked about, and saw from 

 the lay of the land that this had been the bed of a 

 glacial lake. It is in such regions as these that fossil 

 'Thoreau, 3faine Woods, p. 300. 



