ll along the sides there were delicate mosses and tall
ferns and wildwood flowers that love the shade.

At the upper end of the bower our progress in the boat was barred by a
low bridge, on a forgotten road that wound through the pine-woods. Here
I left my lady Graygown, seated on the shady corner of the bridge with a
book, swinging her feet over the stream, while I set out to explore its
further course. Above the wood-road there were no more fairy dells, nor
easy-going estuaries. The water came down through the most complicated
piece of underbrush that I have ever encountered. Alders and swamp
maples and pussy-willows and gray birches grew together in a wild
confusion. Blackberry bushes and fox-grapes and cat-briers trailed and
twisted themselves in an incredible tangle. There was only one way to
advance, and that was to wade in the middle of the brook, stooping low,
lifting up the pendulous alder-branches, threading a tortuous course,
now under and now over the innumerable obstacles, as a darning-needle is
pushed in and out through the yarn of a woollen stocking.

It was dark and lonely in that difficult passage. The brook divided into
many channels, turning this way and that way, as if it were lost in the
woods. There were huge clumps of OSMUNDA REGALIS spreading their fronds
in tropical profusion. Mouldering logs were covered with moss. The water
gurgled slowly into deep corners under the banks. Catbirds and blue
jays fluttered screaming from the thickets. Cotton-tailed rabbits darted
away, showing the white flag of fear. Once I thought I saw the fuscous
gleam of a red fox stealing silently through the brush. It would have
been no surprise to hear the bark of a raccoon, or see the eyes of a
wildcat gleaming through the leaves.

For more than an hour I was pushing my way through this miniature
wilderness of half a mile; and then I emerged suddenly, to find myself
face to face with--a railroad embankment and the afternoon express, with
its parlour-cars, thundering down to Southampton!

It was a strange and startling contrast. The explorer's joy, the sense
of adventure, the feeling of wildness and freedom, withered and crumpled
somewhat preposterously at the sight of the parlour-cars. My scratched
hands and wet boots and torn coat seemed unkempt and disreputable.
Perhaps some of the well-dressed people looking out at the windows
of the train were the friends with whom we were to dine on Saturday.
BATECHE! What would