May and Early June 



most capacity, we reach finally masses of 

 the funnel-shaped, white-bearded flowers 

 of the buckbean. 



Near at hand we excitedly espy the 

 " brimming beakers " of the pitcher-plant 

 winged, hooded leaves relentlessly hold- 

 ing captive a host of unfortunate insects, 

 which have been tempted into their hol- 

 lows by the sugary exudation for which 

 they have unwittingly bartered their lives 

 for the downward pointing bristles will 

 prevent their escape. The plant is said 

 to be nourished by the decomposing bod- 

 ies of these captives, and we fancy that 

 the great, purple-red flowers which nod 

 from their tall stalks have drawn their hue 

 and vigor from the blood of a hundred 

 victims. 



Our homeward way leads us through 

 pastures reddened with sheep - sorrel, 

 gemmed with the yellow constellations of 

 the stargrass, and enamelled with delicate 

 bluets, or Quaker-ladies. As we cross a 

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