SPRING. 57 



it is apt to die out, not being so hardy, I suppose, as the 

 single native kind. This is one of our easily transplanted 

 wild flowers, and among grass, and at the roots of trees, it 

 will flourish for years, shewing its delicate white or pink- 

 tinged flowers early in spring. 



This endeavour to bring within our garden the flowers 

 of the field or the wood is not always successful, though 

 there are some which thrive w^ell when thus transplanted 

 into a more artificial hfe. It is very delightful to set out 

 on a bright spring day, basket and trowel in hand, on a 

 plant-gathering excursion ; the places where wild primroses, 

 anemones, woodsorrel, and foxgloves grow naturally are 

 always lovely — either woods, whose tender foliage is just 

 beginning to burst, or sunny banks under a hedgerow ; 

 and very beautiful it is to see the brown carjDet of last 

 year's leaves starred over with the snowy bells of the wood- 

 sorrel, or the drooping flowers of the anemone, while bank 

 and brae are yellow with starry primroses. No thought 

 then of the gardener's rule not to lift flowers in full bloom ; 

 the larger and more profuse the flowers, the more eager do 

 we feel to get them up by the root. In a wood among the 

 half-decayed leaf-mould this is an easy operation, but in 

 a grassy bank how often does the primrose tuft come up 

 with half its fibres cut away, the peculiar perfume of the 

 root telling at once the mischief it has sufi'ered. Some- 

 how these little flowers do not seem to suffer from this 

 transplanting, if kept moist and cool for a day or so ; it is 

 true, and " pity 'tis, 'tis true,'' they do not look so fair as 

 in their own native haunts, but the desire to transplant 



