66 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS. 



dry localities, according to the text-books ; but I know 

 of no other spot where it grows in such luxuriance as 

 here. Has some recent freshet brought the seed from 

 a distant point 2 And from this sj^ot onward, until I 

 reached my boat, there was color everywhere. I an- 

 ticipated a red-letter day in consequence. 



For no half-mile of the creek's course is it so astonish- 

 ingly crooked as where we approach its next point of 

 interest, Watson's Crossing ; for thus it was known in 

 colonial days, and by this name only shall I hereafter 

 mention it. The railroad crosses the creek at this point, 

 and the farmers unmindful of the earlier and better 

 history of the place, or else ignorant of it, call this twist 

 of the stream " High Bridge." Fortunately, the railroad 

 passes over a trestle sixty feet in the air, and is, more- 

 over, so shut in by trees that it does not materially affect 

 the absolute wildness of the spot. 



While beautiful at all times, Watson's Crossing is 

 charming now. Lusty button - bushes crowd its banks, 

 and jut out, as small peninsulas, at every turn. They 

 are now at their best, heavy with perfect globes of deli- 

 cate white bloom. Creeping over many is the venture- 

 some Rutland beauty. So lithe a growth, so fair a face, 

 Rutland may well be proud of her charms ; and it is not 

 to be wondered at that she blooms onlv where the wa- 

 ters beneath afford her a mirror, in which, while the day 

 lasts, she can gaze admiringly. 



E'estling about the roots of the button-bushes, and in- 

 deed wherever it is permanently shady, grows the in- 

 conspicuous ground-nut, now in full bloom. The flow- 

 ers are small, sweetly scented, darkly purple and brown, 



