They had done well, too, in selecting purple as the emblem of royalty.

It was a dignified, compelling color, while in its warm tone there was a hint of blood.
It was the Limberlost's hour to proclaim her sovereignty and triumph.
Everywhere she flaunted her yellow banner and trailed the purple of her mantle, that was paler in the thistle-heads, took on strength in the first opening asters, and glowed and burned in the ironwort.
He gazed into her damp, mossy recesses where high-piled riven trees decayed under coats of living green, where dainty vines swayed and clambered, and here and there a yellow leaf, fluttering down, presaged the coming of winter.

His love of the swamp laid hold of him and shook him with its force.
Compellingly beautiful was the Limberlost, but cruel withal; for inside bleached the uncoffined bones of her victims, while she had missed cradling him, oh! so narrowly.
He shifted restlessly; the movement sent the snake-feeders skimming.

The hum of life swelled and roared in his strained ears.

Small turtles, that had climbed on a log to sun, splashed clumsily into the water.