204 UPLAND AND MEADOW. 



dance to my sense of sight, seen, as it was, surrounded 

 by an ocean of green leaves. 



And how like the hum of summer seas is the mur- 

 mur of the wind through the dense foliage. To add to 

 the likeness, the twittering swallows chirped cheery 

 '''' peetrweeU^'' so that, with my eyes closed, I saw troops 

 of sand-pipers tripping on 'the sand, and chasing each 

 receding breaker on the beach. 



But perhaps we can best realize the beauty of vegeta- 

 tion, other than trees, by standing on the edge of a 

 marsh. There is needed the deep black peaty soil and 

 constant moisture to give that perfection to vegetable 

 growth which is so attractive. In the reach of swampy 

 meadow where I linger longest in my rambles, for nat- 

 ure is there a wondrous picture-book, there are clusters 

 of arums worthy of the tropics, and reedy growths that 

 tempt certain warblers that I find nowhere else. The 

 docks, pickerel-weed, and arrow-head here reach per- 

 fection, and every leaf, if you scan it closely, will be 

 found a marvel of beauty. It is far too common to 

 look at such objects collectively, and pass through life 

 knowing but the bare fact that leaves are green. 



June 19. — In the meadows, this evening, there are 

 apparently thousands of green frogs in every ditch and 

 pool, so great is the volume of sound that fills the air. 

 It is a steady, uniform rattle, occasionally ending in a 

 loud chuck! but the cessation is for a moment only, 

 when the ringing rattle is resumed. There is heard 

 with it, at times, the deep bass of the bullfrogs, and it 

 is a pleasing accompaniment. It may strike one as 



