A JUNGLE CLEARING 35 



the States, with its clusters of tiny white blos- 

 soms bouqueted in the bracts of its leaves. 



A few yards down the hillside was a clump of 

 real friends the rich green leaves of vervain, 

 that humble little weed, sacred in turn to the 

 Druids, the Romans, and the early Christians, 

 and now brought inadvertently in some long-past 

 time, in an overseas shipment, and holding its 

 own in this breathing-space of the jungle. I was 

 so interested by this discovery of a superficial 

 northern flora, that I began to watch for other 

 forms of temperate-appearing life, and for a long 

 time my ear found nothing out of harmony with 

 the plants. The low steady hum of abundant 

 insects was so constant that it required conscious 

 effort to disentangle it from silence. Every few 

 seconds there arose the cadence of a passing bee 

 or fly, the one low and deep, the other shrill and 

 penetrating. And now, just as I had become 

 wholly absorbed in this fascinating game, the 

 kind of game which may at any moment take a 

 worth-while scientific turn, it all dimmed and 

 the entire picture shifted and changed. I doubt 

 if any one who has been at a modern battle-front 

 can long sit with closed eyes in a midsummer 

 meadow and not have his blood leap as scene after 



