124 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



In one little pool near the woodland basin, which, too, 

 had an abundance of these plants and lilies, I counted 

 eighteen pitchers and eight of the curious flowers. With 

 them was a single white lily, and these were all reflected 

 in a pool of inky-black water so distinctly that each was 

 duplicated and no water could be seen a few paces off. 

 The spot was surrounded by an impenetrable growth of 

 sapling birches ; and quite encircling the water's edge was 

 a narrow fringe of glistening filiform sun-dews. 



It is such places as these pools, swamps, and winding 

 creeks that relieve the monotony of these wonderful " bar- 

 rens," and will ever make them the Meccas of out-door 

 naturalists or will, until they are so far " improved " 

 as to have lost those features that now attract. This done, 

 an utterly tame, if not actually repulsive spot will remain. 

 A deforested tract is an eye-sore here, and, as farm-land, 

 will be little better. 



In the opposite direction from the village, or south- 

 ward, with the river usually in sight, I found a region 

 that was very attractive, and quite unlike in many re- 

 pects any meadow or swamp-land of the Delaware Valley. 



Here, instead of in the village, as I supposed I should, 

 I heard song-sparrows, cat-birds, and orioles birds that 

 usually do not seek retired localities ; but here they were 

 at home, for all were nesting ; and a pair of tree-creeping 

 warblers, the only ones I saw, took my intrusion into a 

 thicket of stunted oaks so much to heart that I know 

 they too had a nest. Here, too, the air was filled with 

 swallows, and the crested tit, the bird of all others that 

 perhaps I love the best, whistled with a vim no other 

 bird attains, H sweet here ! 't sweet here ! and the wise lit- 

 tle chap was right. It was. 



The forest growth was of little moment, except the 

 " islands," as the clustered cedars that grow so closely that 



