138 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS. 



plant was here very noticeable : nearly one-lialf of it was 

 pale-green, and so contrasted well with that which was 

 deejDly colored. Yelvety sumach,with its crimson fruit, 

 was a fitting background to the picture, and the spot 

 needed nothing more. Nature had here finished her 

 work for the time. I had, as I drew my boat close to 

 the shore, a little tropic to myself — rich in color, rank 

 in growth, wild in surroundings, and shared only with 

 bees, butterflies, and birds. 



A year ago, I met the owner of these meadows — a 

 man of business — and when I sj)oke of the beauty of 

 this purple panicum he snorted, and I heard a growl 

 that it was "no use as fodder." To think that such 

 men live, ay, and are in the majority ! I would have 

 been glad to kick him. If it ever occurs to one to feed 

 the brain as well as the stomach, let such beautiful plants 

 as this grass be lovingly looked upon. To this crabbed 

 land-owner, it appeared to possess no beauty, because his 

 cows preferred clover or timothy wherewith to fill their 

 paunches. Whether this surly money-bags knows it or 

 not, a pleasing view from one's dining-room windows 

 is a safeguard against some of the dyspeptic ills that 

 plague mankind. After your meal, let 3^our eyes feast 

 on beauty. My mid-day lunch, I am sure, was sweet- 

 er because of this beautiful purple grass waving its 

 graceful plumes before me. Yes, it sweetened my 

 crust and gave an additional sparkle to my cup of cold 

 water. 



At the lower end of Dead Willow Bend there is a 

 pretty cove-inlet, through which the tides rush on their 



