THE BLUE BELLS 33 



whole plant out. And there, half a foot down in 

 the brown mould, is the store of food laid up in the 

 past season against the spring. 



Several flowers are so closely woven-in with the 

 name of our country, that we, who were born here, 

 can scarcely recall the day we thought of them 

 apart. When we begin " the blue bells," we feel 

 as if we had not said enough till we add " of 

 Scotland." 



The blue bell has found its way into song, as 

 blooming more distinctly than any other wild 

 flower in the author's mental picture of the land. 

 Others have had some favourite object chosen from 

 amid the scenes where they were reared, some 

 symbol of so much combined love of nature and 

 patriotism as they possessed. An exile passion- 

 ately recalled Scotland by " the broom that hung 

 its tassels on the lea," and, among birds, by the 

 " lintie's sang." Being destitute of imagination 

 or the power of expression, we borrow from the 

 more gifted. And it is amusing how fervently 

 some of us, when in poetic vein, sing of what we 

 never saw, and exult in what we never cared for. 



In the esteem of this man, the blue bell is not 

 only worthy of Scotland, but also more to be proud 

 of than the "jasmine bowers and rose-covered 

 3 



