THE WILD GARDEN. ^ 



you proceed, half dazed in the witching fragrance, which hangs 

 like incense in the evening mist an aromatic perfume giving 

 no hint of any other flower, unless, perhaps, the witch-hazel. It 

 is an event to date from, this first victory over Calypso, Arethu- 

 sa, or even the purple -fringed orchid, just described not that 

 the latter is so great a rarity as the others ; but, then, it is an 

 ORCHID. 



Indeed, what is that occult attribute of an orchid which should 

 so differentiate it in our fancy from all the floral tribe ? Long be- 

 fore I had heard of Darwin, except as a name, I had been brought 

 beneath their spell. 



What wild -flower hunter can ever forget his first glimpse of 

 the white cypripedium sunning its snowy cup far out in the cin- 

 namon ferns or brakes, or its yellow counterpart in the dark 

 woods, or the common moccasin -flower of the hemlocks, or the 

 rattlesnake plantain, which divulged its orchidaceous spirit to me 

 long before I knew its name, and whose unique reticulated leaf 

 has always haunted my fancy as a futile reminder of something 

 which will not be recalled a relic of the old Adam within me, 

 perhaps ? 



Calypso and Arethusa are often found in questionably queer 

 company; indeed, to the lovers of the eccentric our flora affords 

 quite a variety show. The botanical enthusiast who has never 

 found the side -saddle -flower or pitcher -plant has a sensation in 

 store for him. I recall one such notable swamp ; it nestles in a 

 huge bowl on the side of Black Mountain, Lake George, a quak- 

 ing sphagnum bog closing in around a tiny lake. I make no 

 hesitation in placarding the haunt, not only because its inaccessi- 

 bility protects it, but because its army is more than a match for 

 the whole tribe of vandals. 



I had heard for some time as a sort of tradition of .a certain 

 impassable bog nestling somewhere towards the summit of the 

 mountain, where brimming pitchers were offered to all guests, and 

 one day, like Rip Van Winkle, I determined to sample the good 

 cheer. With what meagre directions I .could obtain I mounted 

 my mustang and set out. For the first mile the path was clear, 



