2O SHARP EYES 



the bee has long settled the question of its qualifica- 

 tions. It is a flower, perhaps, but not a blossom, so 

 says the sentimental fiat. Upon what fairer shoulders, 

 then, does its mottled mantle fall? 



It were a rash commentator who would approach 

 this question idly in the face of the host of natural- 

 ists, botanists, spring poets, and " careful observers," 

 each with his array of facts and dates and witnesses, 

 his unimpeachable note -book, and his especial floral 

 favorite for the vernal honors. The question has been 

 satisfactorily decided by each of them ; and by a wis- 

 dom born of experience the subject is avoided in mix- 

 ed botanical councils as one prone to incite to con- 

 fusion if not to riot. The dogged pertinacity and 

 unreasonableness of the brethren on this matter are 

 past belief. I never knew a botanist or spring poet 

 to be convinced of his error on the subject of the ear- 

 liest flower, and yet the truth of the matter is as plain 

 as A, B, C. I long ago settled the question absolutely 

 and irrevocably. The authorities who differ from me 

 are all wrong. And what an array of floral candidates 

 they have put in the field ! There is Bryant, who 

 voiced the claims of the " yellow violet," which he ob- 

 served in April "blooming by the snow-bank's edges 

 cold," and which he further apostrophizes : 



" Of all her train the hands of Spring 

 First plant thee in the watery mould." 



But the yellow violet has never since fulfilled the 

 poet's confidence. Then there's the trailing arbutus, 

 another favorite of the poet, which has so often been 

 found in bloom at the edge of the snow or even be- 



