12 AMONG THE WILD-FLOWERS 



more, and the flowers show like a broad scarlet 

 cap. 



The only thing I have seen in this country 

 that calls to mind the green grain-fields of 

 Britain splashed with scarlet poppies may be 

 witnessed in August in the marshes of the 

 lower Hudson, when the broad sedgy and flaggy 

 spaces are sprinkled with the great marsh-mal- 

 low. It is a most pleasing spectacle, — level 

 stretches of dark green flag or waving marsh- 

 grass kindled on every square yard by these 

 bright pink blossoms like great burning coals 

 fanned in the breeze. The mallow is not so 

 deeply colored as the poppy, but it is much 

 larger, and has the tint of youth and happiness. 

 It is an immigrant from Europe, but it is mak- 

 ing itself thoroughly at home in our great river 

 meadows. 



The same day your eye is attracted by the 

 mallows: as your train skirts or cuts through 

 the broad marshes, it will revel with delight in 

 the masses of fresh bright color afforded by the 

 purple loosestrife, which grows in similar locali- 

 ties, and shows here and there like purple bon- 

 fires. It is a tall plant, grows in dense masses, 

 and affords a most striking border to the broad 

 spaces dotted with the mallow. It, too, came 

 to us from over seas, and first appeared along 

 the Wallkill, many years ago. It used to be 

 thought by the farmers in that vicinity that its 

 seed was first brought in wool imported to this 

 country from Australia, and washed in the 

 Wallkill at Walden, where there was a woolen 



