The Autumn Crocus. 189 



but it makes no show; and though there are daffodils in 

 a few places, they are not prominent to view. A field 

 at the head of Prestwich Dells is for a little time plenti- 

 fully strewed with their lively yellow. When September 

 comes the want of the primrose is almost compensated 

 by the cheerful autumn crocus, which lifts its purple 

 abundantly among the grass, in the low meadows on 

 the further side of Kersal Moor, near the rivulet; also 

 in the fields below Prestwich Church, the same that in 

 spring are dressed with the daffodil, and again in those 

 between the asylum and the dells. The autumnal 

 crocus, like the colchicum, is curious in seeming to pro- 

 duce its seeds before the flowers, the former being ripe 

 in May and June, whereas the latter do not open till 

 three months after. When the great Swedish botanist, 

 Linnaeus, was engaged in promulgating the great doctrine 

 of the sexuality of plants, now about a century and 

 a half ago, the circumstance in question was pointed to 

 as upsetting it. But the young seed-pod lies low down 

 in the bosom of the leaves, where it is fertilised, as in 

 all other flowers, by the pollen from the stamens, and 

 there it abides during the winter, elevating itself above 

 the ground with the warmth of the ensuing summer, 

 when it ripens and scatters its contents. The true time 

 of the vital energy of the autumn crocus is thus, not 

 from May to September, but from September until May. 

 The history has always seemed to us a memorable in- 

 stance of the quiet dignity with which truth and genuine 

 science pursue their way, triumphing and silencing all 



