SUMMER IN A BOG. 46 



weeds, ye might run back to the other road an' 

 make her a visit." 



Lost in doubt as to just what she meant by 

 her reference to the botanizing trips which took 

 up most of my spare time in the country, we 

 arrived in town and she signified her wish to 

 alight. 



A few days later, as I made my way toward 

 the road out of a thick tangle of poison ivy and 

 tick- trefoil (of which latter I had been trying to 

 secure a good specimen — a difficult task), I 

 came face to face with a couple of pedestrians 

 emerging from behind a hill, going in the same 

 direction. 



They were a woman dressed in black and a 

 man whom I at once recognized as a noted 

 scholar and professor of geology in a leading 

 university. I had met him in the city a few 

 months before. 



I was very glad indeed to see the professor, 

 and told him so. 



"I suppose," said he, "you know your 

 neighbor, Mrs. Wier?" 



So I had to explain to Mrs. Wier, whom I 

 was also very glad to meet, that I had been 

 planning to call on her for a long time, but 

 somehow the time has a way of slipping by and 

 one has never half enough of it. 



"And, Mrs. Wier, there is a fascination 



