STEEP TRAILS 



the plain I came to a picturesque mass of rock, 

 cropping up through the underbrush on one of 

 the steepest slopes of the mountain. After 

 examining some tufts of grass and saxifrage 

 that were growing in its fissured surface, I was 

 going to pass it by on the upper side, where the 

 bushes were more open, but a company com- 

 posed of the two lilies I have mentioned were 

 blooming on the lower side, and though they 

 were as yet out of sight, I suddenly changed 

 my mind and went down to meet them, as if 

 attracted by the ringing of their bells. They 

 were growing in a small, nestlike opening be- 

 tween the rock and the bushes, and both the 

 erythronium and the fritillaria were in full 

 flower. These were the first of the species I 

 had seen, and I need not try to tell the joy 

 they made. They are both lowly plants, — 

 lowly as violets, — the tallest seldom exceed- 

 ing six inches in height, so that the most 

 searching winds that sweep the mountains 

 scarce reach low enough to shake their bells. 

 The fritillaria has five or six linear, obtuse 

 leaves, put on irregularly near the bottom of 

 the stem, which is usually terminated by one 

 large bell-shaped flower; but its more beautiful 

 companion, the erythronium, has two radical 

 leaves only, which are large and oval, and shine 

 like glass. They extend horizontally in oppo- 

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