1 62 /A 7 " SPRING. 



seed-pod, or torus, is a prominent object. He- 

 rodotus likened it aptly to the nest of a wasp. It 

 is of the richest yellow, and surrounded by a deli- 

 cate fringe of the same color. The seeds are 

 seen imbedded in the flat upper surface, gems in 

 a golden setting so lavish that their own beauty is 

 obscured. After the petals have fallen they are 

 miniature boats of a beautiful pattern, that, catch- 

 ing the breeze, sail with all the grace of model 

 yachts this great seed-pod continues to grow, 

 and is a curious funnel-shaped structure, holding 

 the many seeds securely, yet not concealing any. 

 The latter become as large as hazel-nuts, and are 

 quite as palatable. And so, here in New Jersey, 

 one can be a lotus-eater, can float in his canoe 

 and pluck fruit from giant lilies. But be not too 

 free to do so. It is not the fabled lotus, after all, 

 and one's digestion may be more disturbed than 

 his mind pleasantly affected. 



In this isolated pond, seen by but few, and 

 unknown to hundreds living near it, a bit of a far 

 Eastern landscape is reproduced a forest of 

 graceful lotus, with its strange leaves, matchless 

 blossoms, and wonderful seed-pods; and what 

 has been here effected is being repeated in the 

 mud-hole of my pasture meadow. 



Less than a year ago, when spring was well 

 advanced, I placed a root in the mud, and left it 

 to battle with the crowding native growths. 



