278 Old Time Gardens 



ever he compares flowers to women it is in no flatter- 

 ing humor to either; which is, perhaps, what we 

 expect from a man who chose to be a bachelor and 

 a hermit. His love of obscure and small flowers 

 might explain his sentiment toward the radiant and 

 dominant blue Flag. 



The most valued flower of my childhood, outside 

 the garden, was a little sister of the Iris — the Blue- 

 eyed Grass. To find it blooming was a triumph, for 

 it was not very profuse of growth near my home ; 

 to gather it a delight; why, I know not, since the 

 tiny blooms promptly closed and withered as soon 

 as we held them in our warm little hands. Colonel 

 Higginson writes wittily of the Blue-eyed Grass, 

 " It has such an annoying way of shutting up its 

 azure orbs the moment you gather it; and you 

 reach home with a bare stiff* blade which deserves 

 no better name than Sisyrinchium anceps." 



The only time I ever played truant was to run off 

 one June morning to find " the starlike gleam amid 

 the grass and dew " ; to pick Blue-eyed Grass in a 

 field to which I was conducted by another naughty 

 girl. I was simple enough to come home at mid- 

 day with my hands full of the stiff blades and tightly 

 closed blooms ; and at my mother's inquiry as to 

 my acquisition of these treasures, I promptly burst 

 into tears. I was then told, in impressive phrase- 

 ology adapted to my youthful comprehension, and 

 with the flowers as eloquent proof, that all stolen 

 pleasures were ever like my coveted flowers, with- 

 ered and unsightly as soon as gathered — which my 

 mother believed was true. 



