62 THE HAUNTS OF FLOWERS. 



A moor is seldom adorned with plants that would pros- 

 per in the uplands ; but if it be encompassed by a circle 

 of wooded hills, a gay assemblage of flowers will congre- 

 gate in its borders, where hill and plain are impercepti- 

 bly blended. We may always find a path made by cattle 

 all along the border. If we thread the course of this 

 path, we pass through bushes of moderate height, consist- 

 ing of whortleberries, clethra, and swamp honeysuckles, 

 and now and then enter a drier path, through beds of 

 sweet-fern, and occasional open spaces full of pedate 

 violets. The docile animals, picturesque artists who 

 constructed this path, while gazing upon the clover- 

 patches, will turn their large eyes placidly upon us, still 

 heeding their diligent occupation. We keep close to the 

 edge of the moor, not disregarding many common and 

 homely plants that lie in our way, till we discover the 

 object of our search, the sarracenia, or sidesaddle plant, 

 with its dark purple flowers, nodding like Epicureans 

 over their circle of leafy cups half filled with dew. This 

 is a genuine " pitcher plant," and is the only one of the 

 family that is not tropical. The water avens con- 

 spicuous for its drooping chocolate-colored flowers and 

 the golden senecio congregate in the same meadow, bend- 

 ing their plumes above the tall rushes and autumnal 

 asters not yet in flower. 



Very early in the season, if we are near an oak 

 wood, standing on a slope with a southern exposure, 

 we enter it, and if fortune favors us, the liverwort will 

 meet our sight, pushing up the dry oak leaves that 

 formed its winter covering, and displaying its pale bluish 

 and purple flowers, deepening their hues as they ex- 

 pand. When they are fully opened, there are but few 

 sights so pleasant as these circular clusters of flowers, on 

 a ground of dry brown foliage, enlivened with hardly a 

 tuft of verdure, except the trilobate leaves of this inter- 



