142 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 
nodded from slender stems. It was the pitcher-plant, 
which J had never seen in blossom before. 
From the stream the hidden path wound through 
thicket after thicket, sweet as spring, with the fra- 
grance of the wild magnolia and the spicery of the 
gray-green bayberry. Its course was marked with 
white sand, part of the bed of some sea forgotten a 
hundred thousand years ago. By the side of the path 
showed the vivid crimson-lake leaves of the wild 
ipecac, with its strange green flowers; while every- 
where, as if set in snow, gleamed the green-and-gold 
of the Hudsonia, the barrens-heather. The plants 
looked like tiny cedar trees laden down with thickly 
set blossoms of pure gold, which the wind spilled in 
little yellow drifts on the white sand. In the dis- 
tance, through the trees, were glimpses of meadows, 
hazy-purple with the blue toad-flax. Beside the path 
showed here and there the pale gold of the narrow- 
leaved sundrops, with deep-orange stamens. Beyond 
were masses of lambskill, with its fatal leaves and 
crimson blossoms. 
On and on the path led, past jade-green pools in 
which gleamed buds of the yellow pond-lily, like 
lumps of floating gold. Among them were blossoms 
of the paler golden-club, which looked like the tongue 
of a calla lily. At last the path stretched straight 
toward the flat-topped mound that showed dim and 
fair through the low trees. The woods became still. 
Even the Maryland yellow-throat stopped singing, 
the prairie warbler no longer drawled his lazy notes, 
and the chewink, black and white and red all over, 
