14 AMONG THE WILD-FLOWERS 



Certain flowers one makes special expeditions 

 for every season. They are limited in their 

 ranges, and must generally be sought for in 

 particular haunts. How many excursions to 

 the woods does the delicious trailing arbutus 

 give rise to ! How can one let the spring go 

 by without gathering it himself when it hides 

 in the moss! There are arbutus days in one's 

 calendar, days when the trailing flower fairly 

 calls him to the woods. With me, they come 

 the latter part of April. The grass is greening 

 here and there on the moist slopes and by the 

 spring runs; the first furrow has been struck 

 by the farmer; the liverleaf is in the height of 

 its beauty, and the bright constellations of the 

 bloodroot shine out here and there; one has 

 had his first taste and his second taste of the 

 spring and of the woods, and his tongue is 

 sharpened rather than cloyed. Now he will 

 take the most delicious and satisfying draught 

 of all, the very essence and soul of the early 

 season, of the tender brooding days, with all 

 their prophecies and awakenings, in the handful 

 of trailing arbutus which he gathers in his 

 walk. At the mere thought of it, one sees the 

 sunlight flooding the woods, smells the warm 

 earthy odors which the heat liberates from be- 

 neath the dry leaves, hears the mellow bass of 

 the first bumble-bee, 



" Rover of the underwoods," 



or the finer chord of the adventurous honey- 

 bee seeking store for his empty comb. The 



