382 SPRING FLOWERS, AND 



fragrance, surpass the most gorgeous inmates of our gar- 

 dens. Scarcely have the March snows forsaken the sunny 

 forest nooks, when the chilly winds are redolent with a 

 strange perfume ; it is unlike any other, peculiar, 

 and calls up balmy memories of spring, and buds, and 

 flowers. 



Whence comes it ? The maples are still dark and gray, 

 in their winter's sleep ; not a crimson bud has yet dared 

 to peep forth ; and the willows, though glistening in the 

 sunlight with their peculiar spring color (if we may so 

 speak), still keep the downy catkins folded away beneath 

 the sheathing bracts. Search the woods around, and if 

 a stranger to woodland mysteries, if you have not that 

 hidden sympathy with Nature which draws you to the 

 flowers, your labor will be in vain. But brush away 

 the fallen leaves, which have so tenderly warmed the 

 earth during the long cold nights ; see, amid tufts of 

 rough roundish leaves, some dark green, some brown, 

 disfigured, a blossom which seems delicately fashioned 

 by fairy fingers, or a gem from Flora's own diadem. 

 Gather it carefully ; it is the first flower of spring, the 

 promise of the year, a token of sunny days and leafy 

 woods, of balmy winds and smiling skies. The botanist 



