VIOLET ON A MOSSY BANK. 65 



success, I perceived, on a mossy bank still wet 

 from the moisture of the lately melted snow, a 

 humble flower peeping out from under a withered 

 fern-leaf. Its colour caught my eye, and in a 

 moment more its shelter was carefully turned aside 

 that I might the better examine its simple struc- 

 ture and the perfect blending of its various shades. 

 Again and again I gazed upon this little treasure, 

 till the flood-gates of my memory were opened, 

 and a torrent of past episodes swamped my brain, 

 for the modest flower was a violet. In this dis- 

 tant land it was almost more than unexpected to 

 find a specimen of a family so treasured. Again 

 and again I gazed upon it, drank in afresh its 

 fragrant breath, and permitted my thoughts to 

 wander off to other scenes. The memories asso- 

 ciated with this flower were so tender that I 

 could not pluck it, and by doing so doom it to 

 wither and die before its time. I left with regret, 

 but not with sorrow, the little charmer who had 

 cheered my heart by recalling the treasured recol- 

 lections of the past. 



Next morning I made my start further north, 

 as my animals had very much improved in flesh 

 and spirits, and appeared capable of enduring 

 considerable fatigue. The rest had done me good 

 hi more ways than one. My wardrobe was much 

 improved ; I had got rid of symptoms of fever 

 and ague by drenching myself with a decoction 

 made from the bark of the wild plum ; and last, 



