14 UPLAND AND MEADOW. 



The botanist came. He minded no paths, but darted 

 from point to point with that delightful uncertainty 

 that made it a nice study for me to keep at his heels. 

 What cared he ? Indeed, the cholera may come, and 

 he will not fret. Has he not found a plant not previ- 

 ously known to grow in New Jersey ? He was a bit 

 indignant that I took the whole matter quietly. He 

 shouted until hoarse, and all because of a little vine 

 which not one man in a thousand would notice, in 

 spite of its pretty flowers. 



And he of the shells ! How eagerly was the dip-net 

 thrust into the mud of every little pool in search of a 

 diminutive bivalve, with a name long enough and high- 

 sonnding enough for the largest mollusk of the ocean. 

 I may as well admit it now and here ; I had never be- 

 fore seen or heard of these baby-clams, as I called them, 

 although the mud that harbored them was before me 

 year in and year out. I am thankful that the conchol- 

 ogist came. If another visits me, how Pisidium and 

 Sphgerinm will figure as old acquaintances of mine. 



My friend's enthusiastic search for still smaller shells 

 — pup(B he called them — was an excellent illustration of 

 how earnest a naturalist can and should be. Dirt, sticks, 

 and stones were carefully passed through liis fingers, 

 and scrutinized with a lens. The naked eye cannot 

 readily detect these shells, and so a long summer af- 

 ternoon passed, and not one pupa rewarded his labo- 

 rious search. Was he discouraged? Not a bit of it. 

 He searched for a week, and found them. This, too, 

 was but the beginning of his work. The tongues of 



