ACCORDING TO SEASON 



there are others, many others, who can cry with 

 Mr. Norman Gale, 



" And oh, my heart has understood 

 The spider's fragile line of lace, 

 The common weed, the woody space ! " 



who are quick to detect each bird-song, and eager 

 to trace it to its source ; who follow curiously the 

 tiny tracks of the wood creatures ; who note the 

 varied outlines of the forest leaves, and discover 

 the smallest of the flowers that grow beneath them. 

 If we do not happen ourselves to be blessed 

 with a natural turn for observation, a little com- 

 Habit of panionship with one of these more fortunate be- 

 to C m g s wiU persuade us, I think, that the habit is one 

 which it would be both possible and desirable to 

 cultivate. It had never occurred to me, for ex- 

 ample, that it would be worth while to look for 

 wild flowers on Fifth Avenue, until a certain 

 morning when a keen-eyed botanical companion 

 stooped and plucked from an earth-filled chink in 

 its pavement, a little blossom which had found 

 its way hither from some country lane. Since 

 then I have tried to keep my wits about me even 

 on that highway of the Philistines. 



We are prone, most of us, to be inaccurate as 

 well as unobservant ; and I know of no better an- 

 tidote to inaccuracy than a faithful study of plants. 

 It is sometimes difficult for the flower-lover to 



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