Picturesque Lanes 
terprising American that it is, has even invaded Europe, 
where it has become naturalized in the basin of the Medi¬ 
terranean, and where the thrifty natives have found a use 
for it in the adulteration of wine. It is a plant full of 
energy, as is evidenced by its still blooming, although 
borne down with fruit and Jack Frost like a sword of 
Damocles hanging over its head. New Englanders know 
it under the name of garget, which is a rather more digni¬ 
fied term than poke, although both names appear to be 
incomprehensible to our philologists. 
The word poke is perhaps of Indian origin, but the 
plant which we know specifically as the Indian poke is of 
quite another family, being a rank plaited-leaved weed of 
swamps and low grounds, the leafy stems of which are 
topped in early summer with great pyramids of dingy yel¬ 
low flowers. Indian poke is quite poisonous, a fact well 
known to the red men, who, it is said, sometimes turned 
the quality to account in selecting their chiefs—the can¬ 
didate who could imbide most of the poison and survive 
being regarded as born to leadership. 
October io. —The lanes are now among the most pic¬ 
turesque of sights, and offer much entertainment to one 
who has a taste for enjoyment on a low key—to use John 
Burroughs’ phrase. Among our hills there are many such 
pleasant lanes, half hiding between stone walls and fences 
that are buried in clambering vines, now skirting woodland 
or orchard, now winding up hill and along the ridges by 
cornfields and turnip patches, and now descending into 
little dales that carry in their laps brawling streams to 
feed the river. 
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