SUMMER m A Boa. 11 



dry, tlie humps and tussocks furnishing a soft,i^ 

 if uneven, carpet to the feet. Here and there 

 were spots entirely bare of vegetation, sour 

 and barren, the mineral ingredients having 

 leached out in the persistent washings of the 

 springs, seeping up in holes and running in thin 

 threads of water through rusty-black borders 

 to the roots of the com a few yards below. 

 Several rods further down the slope, Mink Eun 

 crosses this young alluvial plain, which is be- 

 ing redeemed from its condition of a swamp 

 into the uses of agriculture as the finest com 

 land — when, at times, treated with lime or pot- 

 ash and properly drained. 



What is this odd, grass-like plant with tiny 

 barbs along the side, reminding of a fish-hook? 

 It is the arrow-grass, a new trophy; and near 

 it was another, the capillary beaked rush, which 

 seemed bent on taking the place of grass in 

 the burnt-looking soil. 



A group of Indian grass on a dry slope 

 would have aroused the acquisitiveness of the 

 horticulturist, with its graceful, silvery plumes><i 

 gently swaying in the summer breeze. Nearby, 

 a huge block of stone partially buried in the 

 soil, lifted its sub-angular surface invitingly 

 for rest after the labors of digging speci- 

 mens among the matted root-stocks of the peaty 

 bog. 



