A DAY IN A TAMARACK SWAMP. 



A half-day rather, for the other half was occupied 

 in reaching the swamp, and half of the night in 

 returning therefrom, so that part of the story must be 

 of some of nature's objects noted on the way and the 

 thoughts that they engendered. 



The 6 : 20 train on the "Logan" road was almost 

 ready to pull out on a recent Saturday, when, after a 

 brisk walk of half a mile through the cool enlivening 

 air of early morn, I reached the Union Station. The 

 platform was thronged with prospective passengers, 

 bound for the four corners of the globe and starting 

 with the coming of the sun. All was bustle and noise 

 but we were soon off to the quiet prairie region north- 

 east of Terre Haute. 



No frost as yet had seared the vegetation and the 

 late planted corn was ripening rapidly; its partially 

 green, partially yellow leaves glistening with the dew 

 of the night. The many wild plants growing along 

 the railway are to me, when traveling, objects of 

 exceeding interest, but on this day but few were at 

 first seen, the ruthless hand of the section boss having 

 caused their early downfall. Occasionally a sunflower 

 or stalk of golden-rod, which in some unknown way 

 had escaped destruction, waved its flowers in defiance 

 as we were whirled past; or the bright blue of the 

 wild morning-glory and brighter blue of the lobelia 



(179) 



