THE WILD GARDEN. l ^ l 



underfoot ere I was aware; the imitative whorled foliage of the 

 medeolas having beguiled my discrimination. The secret was 

 safe, this secluded haunt having been selected as the choice of 

 all the earth by a nestling whippoorwill, which fluttered <& 

 from my feet, disclosing her downy brood like a spot of 

 mould down there on the brown leaves. But my po- 

 gonias were long past their prime, and I could get 

 little idea of their flower. Here bloomed, also, the 

 small green orchis and the purple-fringed orchis, 

 the Uvularias, and the cranesbill and loosestrife, 

 and the Solomon's-seal with its palm-like spray 

 and drooping yellowish pendants, and the An- 

 dromeda with its chime of ten thousand bells. 

 The swamp azalea shed a slight fragrance 

 from its remnant blossoms, and offered its juicy 

 apples that to me are never offered in vain. 



That whispered password to the pogonia 

 opened the door also to a rare wild-flower 

 bed that justly deserves the fame it has 

 won. All the dwellers of the "forest 

 ledge " were here ; the rue and maiden- 

 hair; the early harebells hung from 

 the crags above, and continued the 

 dance which the lingering " rock-lov- 

 ing columbines " were now bequeath- 

 ing; while the spotted leaves of liver- 

 worts, and spiry pods of bloodroots, and the 

 plenteous foliage of rue -anemone, and wind- 

 flower, and matted beds of arbutus, bore witness 

 of what a rare May-day had been celebrated hereabouts, and 

 doubtless the sweet deerberry, with its fragrant bells, and the 

 airy fumitory were there, draping the rocks, could I only have 

 happened their way. 



The lofty gnarled laurels ever and anon protested "no thor- 

 oughfare" as I crossed their path; and once, having made the 

 breach, somewhat to the disparagement of my garments, I was 



