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f ^ Zl)C Dingle Dell 



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blows, "where there is much light, and the shade is deep" 

 and where our reward will be a peep at those less sturdy 

 flowers which have been planted here to bask in the sun, 

 cloaked 'round by the sheltering hills. 



Now if one is to beHeve all the tales of mythology, how 

 very deeply every flower lover must feel indebted to the 

 gods and goddesses, the heroes, and the nymphs of Mount 

 Olympus, whose welling blood, as in the case of Narcissus, 

 could scarcely touch Mother Earth but a new and beautiful 

 blossom must spring up to grace the spot and commemorate 

 the immortal. The memory of the ancient tale of Narcissus 

 and Echo has scarcely faded from our minds when sweet 

 hyacinth pricks the soil in this secluded nook and claims our 

 attention to his equally royal origin and charming personal- 

 ity. And it was another case of Olympic jealousy too, with 

 three being one more than company, — ^Apollo this time filling 

 the r61e of chief attraction. Now Apollo was by nature 

 gregarious and when he threw the discus or hurled the javelin 

 El^ ■ t''t^ or otherwise disported himself like the young Olympian he 

 was, he greatly craved companionship. Hence it was that 

 the other little gods and mortal princes came to play with 

 him and stayed to wonder; and if they ran less swiftly and 

 hurled less surely than the youthful god of prophecy then 

 so much the olympian better, especially if the captivating 

 little brown nymphs (or were they little white nymphs?) 

 were dodging around behind the trees and watching from 

 every coign of vantage instead of hiding on the slopes of 



JS^ 



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