TURTLE-HEAD AND JEWEL-WEED 125 



their real beauties revealed to one who carelessly 

 splashes in. Instead, he is liable to be mired in 

 black mud and see nothing so good as his way out 

 again, nor will he even notice the elfin laughter of 

 black crickets and green grasshoppers who rub 

 their preposterously long hind legs together in 

 glee at the joke, so eager will he be for dry land. 



The right of way leads over a level, firm trunk 

 of a fallen tree, one that has been so long down 

 that only a mossy ridge indicates its existence, to 

 a sphagnum mound which tops a stump as old 

 as the causeway. A swamp maple grows at this 

 stump as a back for my seat in this reception 

 room of the jewel-weeds. I think it is the sway 

 of the slender maple that puts me in rhythm with 

 the mood of the place and gives me eyes to see 

 things as they are, for after a little the rough 

 swamp snarl of straggling growth unravels it- 

 self, and things stand revealed. 



There is the rough bedstraw. Somebody who 

 saw it first shall burn for calling such a sweet 

 little plant such a mischancy name. I protest 

 that the bedstraw is worthy a better. To be 

 sure it is rough. The prickles that line the edges 

 of its stems all point back, and while they do not 

 wound they hold you tenaciously when you touch 



