A GLANCE AT BRITISH WILD FLOWERS 173 



no brookside flower that equals our jewel-weed; no 

 rock flower before which one would pause with the 

 same feeling of admiration as before our columbine; 

 no violet as striking as our bird's-foot violet; no 

 trailing flower that approaches our matchless arbu- 

 tus; no fern as delicate as our maiden-hair; no 

 flowering shrub as sweet as our azaleas. In fact, 

 their flora presented a commoner type of beauty, 

 very comely and pleasing, but not so exquisite and 

 surprising as our own. The contrast is well shown 

 in the flowering of the maples of the two countries, 

 — that of the European species being stiff and coarse 

 compared with the fringe-like grace and delicacy of 

 our maple. In like manner the silken tresses of 

 our white pine contrast strongly with the coarser 

 foliage of the European pines. But what they 

 have, they have in greatest profusion. Few of 

 their flowers waste their sweetness on the desert 

 air; they throng the fields, lanes, and highways, 

 and are known and seen of all. They bloom on the 

 housetops, and wave from the summits of castle 

 walls. The spring meadows are carpeted with 

 flowers, and the midsummer grain-fields, from one 

 end of the kingdom to the other, are spotted with 

 fire and gold in the Scarlet poppies and corn mari- 

 golds. 



I plucked but one white pond-lily, and that was 

 in the Kew Gardens, where I suppose the plucking 

 was trespassing. Its petals were slightly blunter 

 than ours, and it had no perfume. Indeed, in the 

 matter of sweet-scented flowers, our flora shows by 



