IN SILENT WOODS 97 



"Ye ought to have seen that Pipe Plant up yon- 

 der under the Hemlocks, the same place that pink 

 Ladies' Slippers grow in May. It looked just like 

 snow comin' up through the ground and burstin* 

 into flowers; but take it out in the sun, it 's terrible 

 dead to see. The Ladies' Slippers, too, were just 

 like butterflies, a-perchin' up there on the bank; 

 but them that some o' the Hill Top folks yanked up 

 and put in the garden looked like lumps o' raw meat 

 with flies a buzzin' round 'em. Take even Laurel 

 and Dogwood, that 's tough and hardy; 't ain't the 

 same when they 're all trimmed and platted out in 

 beds in the open grass, even if they do grow." 



Time o' Year had the right of it, as usual. To 

 transplant a wild flower without making a semblance 

 of its haunt in its surroundings is to leave its attri- 

 butes behind. Even those that thrive in cultivation, 

 though they may gain in bodily vigor, lose the at- 

 mosphere that lent them charm, and soon become 

 the commercial plants of florists. Thus they take 

 the first step on the road that leads parallel to the 

 path to the hades of nature -lovers, the carpet gar- 

 den, once within whose gates those that have en- 

 tered willingly and knowingly must abandon all hope 

 of better things. And yet the characteristics of 

 wood plants are so marked that they will long sur- 

 G 



