grandly rugged columns of oak, maple, cottonwood, sycamore and 

 many others, reaching far up to the leafy arches of the roof— the 

 profound silence brooding over all, call the soul to humble adora- 

 tion of the great Father of all. Except the occasional chatter of a 

 squirrel, the tremulous, half frightened twitter of a bird, or the 

 monotonous hum of an insect, scarce a sound is heard above the 

 rustling of leaves, murmur of wind, or creaking of interlocking 

 branches, sounds all of them only serving to make the silence 

 seem the more profound. Undevout and inappreciative indeed 

 must be the heart that can resist the sombre fascination of such a 

 place, a place where, away from life's cares and vexations, away 

 from human influences, surrounded by majestic trees, whose huge 

 trunks by their ribbed and seamed sides tell of centuries of 

 growth, while their tops, green and leafy, declare that the mystery 

 of life and growth still goes on with unabated vigor, is found 

 closest communion and fullest sympathy with nature. But there 

 are broad tracts too wet to afford a suitable soil for the growth of 

 forests. In such places only groves or belts of woodland are 

 found. These cover the higher portions of land, while all around 

 are wide marshes covered with tall reeds, sedges and grasses, and 

 lowest parts filled by ponds. 



After the high water of spring has subsided, the ponds are bord- 

 ered by a belt of mud or sand, over which crawl hosts of Palu- 

 dinas, Lymnteas, Physas, and other "snails," while just below the 

 water's edge the more strictly aquatic Unios, Anodontas, Planorbis 

 and the like are equally abundant, so that these places offer great 

 attractions to the conchologist. 



Although I have collected fresh water shells in many localities, 

 I have never secured so rich a harvest of some of the larger spe- 

 cies as in some of these sloughs. And specimens are not only 

 abundant, but of large size and with unusually bright colors. Nor 

 are these localities less inviting to the ornithologist. Quite a 

 number of species of birds find in them a congenial home and 

 abundant food, ducks in the water, and plovers, herons and the 

 like along the margins of the ponds, and in the rank growth of 

 sedges and grasses, or the copses of button-bush which afford 

 them shelter, many a thrush and warbler, while over all, like an 

 untoward fate, hovers the bird of prey. Passing these attractions, 

 interesting as they are, without further notice, let us now devote 



