THE FLOWERS OF SPRING 23 



More impatient of the wind, it may be called a 

 shade flower. It loves the woods where the sun- 

 shine is broken into patches, and finds out all sorts 

 of sheltered corners, or primrose niches. Some- 

 times it gets its roots into a crack of the rock 

 overlooking a woodland pool, in which it can see 

 itself. 



It is by no means the first rose, as its name 

 would seem to imply ; nor is it a rose at all, any 

 more than a jelly-fish is a fish. The only explana- 

 tion I can offer of this second double name is that, 

 whereas the earlier forms grow in out-of-the-way 

 places, are scentless, and appear when out-of-door 

 life has scarce as yet begun, the primrose is by 

 the brookside, where the girls play ; in the strip 

 of wood, where the boys go a-nesting; and all 

 on those bright days when the sun has taken the 

 chill off the air and sufficiently dried the natural 

 playgrounds. 



Well do I remember finding my first thrush's 

 nest, under the green rosette with its crown of 

 yellow. The spotted breast of the sitter, the 

 spotted blue eggs when she arose, the crossing 

 shadows, and the prattle of the burn, form a 

 picture which has not yet perceptibly faded. 



This fixes the date of the flower, according to 



