274 In Touch with Nature. 



semblance to the plant mentioned very naturally 

 gave rise to the common name. 



Time and again, as my companions wandered 

 away in search of new treasures, I fell a-dreaming ; 

 and therein lies a merit of a wet day in the woods. 

 The patter of the rain upon the carriage-roof, like 

 the songs of childhood, brought back that other, 

 beneath which I can never rest again, the roof of 

 the little unceiled chamber of the old farm-house, 

 where I whiled away the rainy days of forty years 

 ago. The same low plaint of the dripping trees 

 iilled the air ; the same gray mist walled in our little 

 world ; the same dull, leaden sky shut out the sun. 

 But never a hint of sadness sobered us then ; why 

 should it now ? Why, indeed ? But how usually 

 it does ! Be the effort ever so sincere, we fall short 

 of perfect joy, having put by childish things. I 

 know I love the woods as when a child, but their 

 greeting now is more formal. I can chase a but- 

 terfly with old-time ardor, but the ecstasy of vic- 

 tory is mine no longer. It is a melancholy change 

 from loving a captive for its beauty only to merely 

 prizing a specimen because of its rarity. 



I have said there were no birds about the woods. 



