174 IN SUMMER. 



grows out of the youth's body a green fir, out of 

 the maiden's a red rose, which entwine to- 

 gether." I should not wonder at learning that 

 so too the Indian believed that from the bodies 

 of braves, who had fallen together, fighting for 

 the same cause, had sprung these intertwining 

 vines that cling now so firmly to each other. 

 Why, indeed, should not the tragedy of Tristram 

 and Ysonde have been re-enacted on the Dela- 

 ware meadows ? 



But, though despised by man, this vigorous 

 plant has hosts of other friends. The summer 

 long, scores of bugs, butterflies, and beetles 

 crowd about. Whether when in leaf only, or 

 later when in bloom, or in autumn, when laden 

 with its wealth of blue-black berries, it is never 

 quite alone, and many of its attendants are fully 

 as curious as the plant itself. One or more mi- 

 nute beetles prefer it to all other plants, yet not 

 because of the peculiar odor. At least, the same 

 creatures do not crowd decaying flesh. On the 

 other hand, the dainty flies that linger about the 

 ruddy phlox, the blue iris, and purple pentste- 

 mon tarry likewise about the carrion-flower and 

 find it a pleasant place, if one may judge by the 

 length of time they stay. 



I was somewhat surprised to find this to be 

 the case, as I looked for a repetition on a small 

 scale of what is recorded of those strange plants, 



