A SUMMER AT HOME. 225 



Leaving my botanical thoughts with the ferns in the 

 gully and along the hillside, I grew enthusiastic on 

 reaching the pasture -fields. Up from the red -clover 

 aftermath there arose a dozen or more beautiful upland 

 plover, as they are usually called, and whistled in their 

 peculiarly charming manner. 



To hear these birds, far overhead, whistling among 

 the clouds, is no uncommon occurrence, but they seldom 

 visit our fields. A few miles away, in Pennsylvania, 

 they have favorite feeding-grounds, and eastward, near 

 the sea-coast, they deign to alight. With us, it is their 

 custom to pass over and leave the rambler thankful even 

 for their song and the sportsman chagrined that they 

 see no merit in our acres. 



Having botanized a very little in the morning, and 

 given at least one bird a passing thought, later in the 

 day, I looked for shells along the river-shore as the sun 

 was setting. It was the abundance of mussel-shells that 

 led my thoughts towards molhiscan life. If we have 

 not an abundance of species, certainly there is compensa- 

 tion in the number of individuals. But after all, the 

 different kinds are not so very few. There are seven, 

 if not others. Three are true unios, as I prefer to call 

 them, for " mussel " is an ugly word ; then there are 

 two of another genus, but of same general appearance. 

 Open one, and you will find the arrangement of the 

 hinge quite dift'erent. There are no long, slender denta- 

 tions at one side of the broad cardinal teeth ; hence they 

 are not true unios, but Margaritanse, or pearl-bearers; 

 but do not expect a pearl in every one you find ; at 



10* 



