100 The Pond-Meadow. 



runs across a little swamp on the borders of the meadow, 

 and there the bitterns often stationed themselves, and sat 

 silently watching the surface of the water. One summer 

 that portion of the pipe that was lain in the salt meadow, 

 was dug up for the purpose of being cleaned and boxed, 

 and placing my ear to its side, I could. hear the slow flow- 

 ing oil within. 



Where the meadow meets the upland there is a proces- 

 sion of flowers, and at mid-summer the array is particularly 

 splendid. The turk's cap lilies make its edge quite 

 gorgeous in August, and later the sunflowers cause it to be 

 still more gay. The upland has a golden fringe, the 

 meadow a yellow border. 



The purple bonesets are conspicuous at the end of the 

 trestle in season, intermixed with the giant sunflowers and 

 the golden rods — the royal colors of purple and gold. 

 Probably no single species of flower gives a greater and more 

 wide-spread splendor to the low-lands, than does the purple 

 boneset. It stands often seven feet high, and as a little 

 man walks beside it, is it any wonder that he should open 

 wide his eyes at its glory, and marvel at the growth of a 

 single summer ? The equally tall swamp thistle, with pur- 

 ple flowers that match the bonesets in hue, and also 

 with a maroon stem, likewise grows along the edge of the 

 meadow. Its prickly arms stretch about it, and bid you let 

 it alone, or at least to handle it gently. " Go round," says 

 the thistle, " touch me not," and it sways gently in the 

 breeze. A bumble-bee burys itself as deeply as it can in 

 the soft heads, and the heads that have gone to seed are 

 pulled apart by the yellow-birds, and the downy-winged 



