OUR VALLEY. 



in 



ley darts a great shining object, for all 

 the world like a winged bottle with an 

 elongated neck. Then we realize we have 

 startled from its afternoon meal one of 

 the great anas boschas, or mallard ducks, a 

 rare visitor in this vicinity, who hurls him- 

 self Southward with a frightened quack. 

 This breaks the spell, and we wander into 

 a darkened ravine that we long ago chris- 

 tened "Arizona," it being the best imita- 

 tion of the mountainous gulches of that 

 country that Ashtabula county can produce. 

 Back in the depths of the ravine glint im- 

 mense, luxuriant stalks of black cohash, 

 looking in the gloom like slender ghosts, 

 mute and motionless. Distance enchants 

 in their case, as in many others, for this 

 graceful bugbane will not bear a too in- 

 timate acquaintance. It has an intensely 

 unpleasant odor, but as the Indians con- 

 sidered this plant an antidote for snake 

 bites, we will forgive its offense. 



Peeping out from beside a broken rock 

 we see the sweet face of a belated 



" Yellow violet's modest bell," 



of which Bryant sang so sweetly, if inac- 

 curately, and above it, shaded by tropical 

 looking ferns, rushes a foaming torrent. Be- 

 yond the ravine we discover some gleam- 

 ing strawberries. Near at hand I see the 

 handsome bush tree of the thus venenata, 

 or poison sumach, with its slender green 

 flower clusters, so artistically attractive ; 

 •but experience in the form of 2 weeks' 

 suffering from its bite has taught me 



REDWING BLACKBIRD. 



hands off. Beyond in the willows we hear 

 the liquid "Hol-ca-tee" of the swamp 

 blackbird, or red winged oriole, as he is 

 often called, which reminds one of the 

 sound of water dripping into a half filled 

 barrel. 



But behold ! We are not alone in this 

 primeval valley. Across one of those in- 

 human human inventions, a barbed wire 

 fence, we meet the astonished gaze of the 

 most gracious white heifer that was ever 

 enframed in a background of sunlit green. 

 The naive innocence of her great violet 

 eyes expresses interested curiosity and a 

 strong desire to make our more intimate 

 acquaintance. We can fancv that Io, be- 

 loved of Jupiter, and correspondingly dis- 

 liked by Juno, was another just such heif- 

 er as this, with her silvery grace of color 

 and gentleness of mien. To further the il- 

 lusion, we discover that she is amply en- 

 dowed with the strong feminine charac- 

 teristics of curiosity, for no sooner do we 

 surmount the barrier between us, in other 

 words, crawl carefully under the wicked 

 wires on our hands and knees, than she 

 commences to niake a meal of the back 

 •breadths of our gown. This, too, in the 

 face of pastures green, and it requires 

 considerable argument to divest her of the 

 idea that we would not be easy of diges- 

 tion. We finally succeeded in parting 

 company with her, bestowing a wish that 

 she may never be tormented by the his- 

 toric gad-fly of jealousy that overtook her 

 mythological namesake in her transgres- 

 sive love making. 



Once more we take to the pathless hill- 

 side, over which creeps the aromatic gill- 

 grow-over-the-ground. This hardy little 

 alien member of the mint family, like the 

 English sparrow has shown a Revolution- 

 ary spirit of fitness for the soil. Its vir- 

 tues are greatly underestimated in its 

 American home. It was much prized at 

 one time for medicinal purposes, and an 

 old writer tells us that "when boiled in 

 mutton broth, it helpeth weake and akeing 

 backs." 



We arrive at the summit almost out of 

 breath, but rush heroically onward until 

 we reach the cross-stile of bittersweet, 

 where we throw ourselves on the earth, 

 under the shadow of a great oak. All 

 around us flaunt tall stalks of yellow loose- 

 strife, about which great bees are "bum- 

 bling." They remind us of that quaint 

 little poem of Henrv Beers, about the ad- 

 ventures of a drunken bumble bee, whose 



"... heavy feet would stumble 



Against some bud, and down he'd tumble 

 Amongst the grass ; there lie and grumble, 

 In low, soft bass ; poor maudlin bumble." 



We throw our hands into the cool tufts 

 of blue-eyed grass, whose tiny blossom 

 gives it the nick name of "eye bright." 

 None but a botanist would dream that this 

 modest little flower is a blood relation of 

 the great showy fleur-de-lis, which blooms 

 in our marshes and lowlands. At this mo- 

 ment I discover on a plantain leaf near at 

 hand an atom of shining gold. Visions of 

 an escaped Klondike float before my eyes. 



