A DAY IN AN OLD ORCHARD. 131 
plore far-off countries to see the most interesting objects 
in nature. I can find more of interest in Limestone 
groves, in Wende’s woods and meadows and in the vicin- 
ity of Portage than I can in the Adirondacks, the wilds of 
Northern Michigan or the primitive forests of the Caro- 
linas. Even this old orchard of less than a dozen acres 
has so many charming things growing and _ living, 
flowerless and flowering, winged and four-footed in it, 
that a Gray or a Nuttall would find it a field of delight 
and study. There are mosses on the north side of the 
tree trunks and lichens pendant from leafless branches. 
Tall ferns are growing in a shaded corner of the lot near 
a rivulet of pure water, and their broad fronds are as 
green and thrifty as in the shady woods. The jewel 
weed, with almost transparent stem, and leaves that 
look like silver, when immersed in water, are abundant 
and luxuriant. 
Dicentras, cardamines, trilliums, anemones, podophyl- 
lums, Claytonias, and the beautiful little Geranium 
dissectum grow here. The spikenard (Awralia race- 
mosa) is so plentiful that neighbors come to dig the root 
for medicine; and, later, a troop of boys will be gather- 
ing the sweet, juicy and aromatic berries. What a 
field for the herbal women! such hosts of simples! 
spearmint, peppermint, catnip, horsemint, hoarhound, 
pennyroyal, thoroughwort, yarrow, mayweed, smart- 
weed, heartsease, wormwood, tansy, comfrey and bur- 
dock. My friend smiles when I ask him to spare a few 
of the finer burdocks, and replies that “they are the 
pest of the premises, good for nothing but to keep boys 
