and many other fine plant people
that lived in our meadow. The beautiful Turk's-turban (_Lilium
superbum_) growing on stream-banks was rare in our neighborhood, but
the orange lily grew in abundance on dry ground beneath the bur-oaks
and often brought Aunt Ray's lily-bed in Scotland to mind. The
butterfly-weed, with its brilliant scarlet flowers, attracted flocks
of butterflies and made fine masses of color. With autumn came a
glorious abundance and variety of asters, those beautiful plant stars,
together with goldenrods, sunflowers, daisies, and liatris of
different species, while around the shady margin of the meadow many
ferns in beds and vaselike groups spread their beautiful fronds,
especially the osmundas (_O. claytoniana, regalis_, and _cinnamomea_)
and the sensitive and ostrich ferns.

Early in summer we feasted on strawberries, that grew in rich beds
beneath the meadow grasses and sedges as well as in the dry sunny
woods. And in different bogs and marshes, and around their borders on
our own farm and along the Fox River, we found dewberries and
cranberries, and a glorious profusion of huckleberries, the
fountain-heads of pies of wondrous taste and size, colored in the
heart like sunsets. Nor were we slow to discover the value of the
hickory trees yielding both sugar and nuts. We carefully counted the
different kinds on our farm, and every morning when we could steal a
few minutes before breakfast after doing the chores, we visited the
trees that had been wounded by the axe, to scrape off and enjoy the
thick white delicious syrup that exuded from them, and gathered the
nuts as they fell in the mellow Indian summer, making haste to get a
fair share with the sapsuckers and squirrels. The hickory makes fine
masses of color in the fall, every leaf a flower, but it was the sweet
sap and sweet nuts that first interested us. No harvest in the
Wisconsin woods was ever gathered with more pleasure and care. Also,
to our delight, we found plenty of hazelnuts, and in a few places
abundance of wild apples. They were desperately sour, and we used to
fill our pockets with them and dare each other to eat one without
making a face,--no easy feat.

One hot summer day father told us that we ought to learn to swim. This
was one of the most interesting suggestions he had ever offered, but
precious little time was allowed for trips to the lake, and he seldom
tried to show us how. "Go to the frogs," he said, "and they will give
yo