The Strange Story of the Flowers 



trees disposed in masses. Happy the 

 Tokio who sees in springtime the cherry blossoms 

 ready to lend their witchery to the Empi 

 reception! Much is done to extend the reign 

 of beauty in a garden when it is fitly bordered 

 with berry-bearers. Rows of mountain ash. 

 snow-berry, and hawthorn trees give colour just 

 when colour is most effective, at the time when 

 most flowers are past and gone. 



In the practical bit of ground where the ki I 

 garden meets the flowers, Japan has long since 

 enlarged its bill of fare with the tul >er < if a c< »usin 

 of our common hedge nettle, with the roots of 

 the large burdock, commoner still. In Florida, 

 the calla lily has use as well as beauty; it is cul- 

 tivated for its potato-like tul his. 



Much as the study of flowers heightens our 

 interest in them, their first, their chief enduring 

 charm consists in their simple beauty— their 

 infinitely varied grace of form, their exhaust less 

 wealth of changeful tints. Off we go with 

 delight from desk and book to a breezy field, 

 a wimpling brook, a quiet pond in woodland 

 shade. A dozen rambles from May t>> October 

 will show us all the floral procession, which, be- 

 ginning with the trilliums and the violets, ends 

 at the approach of frost with the golden-rod and 

 aster. But who ever formed an engaging ac- 

 quaintance without wishing it might become a 

 close friendship ? Never yet did the observant 

 culler of bloodroot and columbine rest satisfied 

 with merely knowing their nanus, and how can 

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