their bony seeds. The blood-root, the hepatica, and the wild ginger
are showing big and healthy leaves, but the few lady slippers, here
and there, have faded almost beyond recognition.

When the summer shower patters down among the leaves the music of the
insect orchestra ceases and the performers shield their instruments
with their wings. It passes and gleams of sunshine make jewels of the
raindrops. Then a little breeze brings the aroma of the blossoming
bergamot, wild mint, basil and catnip, filling the air with a spicy
fragrance. The insects tune up; soon the orchestra is at it again.
White cumulus clouds appear, floating lazily in the azure, reflected
by the river below. They chase the sunlight across the amber stubble
of the oat-fields and weave huge pictures which flash and fade among
the swaying tassels of the corn.

[Illustration: "IN PLACID PONDS" (p. 92)]

And oh, the color-splendor of these August days! Here at the top of
the cliff, the orange-flowered milkweed still flames in beauty,
mingled with the pink and lavender bergamot and the varied yellows of
the sunflowers and the rosin weeds. Down nearer the water's edge where
the shelves of the cliff are layered with soil, the virgin's bower
twines clusters of creamy white. On the grassy shore where the river
begins to leave the rocks the brilliant blue lobelia is breaking into
blossom, contrasted with the bright lemon yellow of the helenium.
Masses of pink light up shady places where the false dragonhead grows,
and the jewel weeds are thickly hung with pendant blossoms of orange
and pale yellow. The river winds along the low shores and reedy
shallows, sometimes partly losing itself in placid ponds, gay with the
crimson and green and blue of the dragon-flies, and fringed by dark