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"Zat is zee pitcher-plant," said Verkimier, as Nigel stopped suddenly before a plant which he had often read of but never seen.
Though it is inconceivable that a structure like that of the pitcher-plant could have been produced by accumulated effects of function on structure; yet it is conceivable that successive selections of favourable variations might have produced it; and the like holds of the no less remarkable appliance of the Venus's Fly-trap, or the still more astonishing one of that water-plant by which infant-fish are captured.
And as a last touch to his rage and shame, thinking in his deadly thirst of the wine, he beheld on the ground, still left in the snow, a last summer's pitcher-plant, half full of what might indeed pass for wine by the mere sight thereof, though hardly to the taste. While seeking for the biscuits on a platter, he found only certain small pellets, such as abound about a rabbit warren.
We kept on walking, but it was only to stop every now and then before some fresh find sometimes it would be a curiously-shaped orchid, or a pitcher-plant half full of dead insects.
"Zat is zee pitcher-plant," said Verkimier, as Nigel stopped suddenly before a plant which he had often read of but never seen.
Azalias and wild roses made its shrubbery, while pitcher-plant, moccasin-flower, gentians blue and white, with brilliant lobelias, were among the native blossoms that charmed the author's childhood and made this Three-Mile Point especially dear to him. The Italian part of Cooper's "Gleanings in Europe" was brought to print in 1838, and later in this year appeared "The American Democrat."
Here were blood-root, moccasin-flower, hepatica, pitcher-plant, Jack-in-the-pulpit, and every other flower of the Limberlost that was in bloom or bore a bud presaging a flower. Every day saw the addition of new specimens. The place would have driven a botanist wild with envy.
In the margin of the pond we found the pitcher-plant growing, and here and there in the sand the closed gentian lifted up its blue head. In traversing the shores of this wild, desolate lake, I was conscious of a slight thrill of expectation, as if some secret of Nature might here be revealed, or some rare and unheard-of game disturbed.
He tore a dry leaf from a notebook and broke the bullet out of a cartridge, damping the powder with water from a pitcher-plant. Smearing the composition on the paper, he placed it in the sun, where it dried at once. He gathered a small bundle of withered spines from the palms, and arranged the driftwood on top, choosing a place for his bonfire just within the shade.
The sun had burst royally through the clouds, and her chilled limbs were gaining some degree of warmth and elasticity. "What is it?" she repeated after another delicious draught. "The leaf of the pitcher-plant. Nature is not always cruel. In an unusually generous mood she devised this method of storing water." Miss Deane reached out her hand for more.
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