PEPACTON 



gentian, the burning cardinal-flower, or our asters 

 and goldenrod, dashing the roadsides with tints of 

 purple and gold, he found them scentless also. 

 " Where are your fragrant flowers ? " he might well 

 say ; " I can find none." Let him look closer and 

 penetrate our forests, and visit our ponds and lakes. 

 Let him compare our matchless, rosy-lipped, honey- 

 hearted trailing arbutus with his own ugly ground- 

 ivy ; let him compare our sumptuous, fragrant pond- 

 lily with his own odorless Nymphcea alba. In our 

 Northern woods he will find the floors carpeted 

 with the delicate linnsea, its twin rose-colored, nod- 

 ding flowers filling the air w r ith fragrance. (I am 

 aware that the linna?a is found in some parts of 

 Northern Europe.) The fact is, we perhaps have 

 as many sweet-scented wild flowers as Europe has, 

 only they are not quite so prominent in our flora, 

 nor so well known to our people or to our poets. 

 Think of Wordsworth's " Golden Daffodils:" 



"I wandered lonely as a cloud 



That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 

 When, all at once, I saw a crowd, 



A host of golden daffodils, 

 Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 

 Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 



"Continuous as the stars that shine 

 And twinkle on the milky way, 

 204 



