58 THE ROLL OF THE SEASONS 



whereas the cowslip sends it up an inch or two, and 

 even sometimes a foot, so that the flowers may make 

 a display in the long grass of April. The wild prim- 

 rose occasionally comes pink, and in some rich-soiled 

 gardens "sports" all colours from pale pink to 

 mauve and nearly black, and produces its flowers 

 sometimes straight from the root and sometimes on 

 flower-stalks. 



Thus, anything might have been made of the 

 primrose if only its tube had been shorter, or if bees 

 would cultivate longer tongues. As matters stand 

 to-day, any thinking naturalist would say that the 

 primrose was a night flower. It does not, like the 

 celandine or the daisy, furl its tender petals when 

 night comes on, but, knowing no fatigue, keeps open 

 the whole twenty-four hours. Because it is so con- 

 spicuous by day, we seldom realise that it is still more 

 obviously coloured for effect by night. When the 

 sun is down and sable night reigns, few objects more 

 quickly attract attention than a bunch of primroses 

 on their root As though they had collected the 

 sunshine and stored it in their pale tissues, they are 

 so clearly seen that we imagine them to shine a little. 

 Certainly if the moths, whose tongues are easily 

 capable of reaching their sweets, want to find the 

 primroses, they should find no difficulty. So the 

 naturalists who spoke loosely of the bee and the prim- 

 rose have been taught by the criticisms of the late 

 Mr. Edward Bell, and a very few others, to bring in 

 the moth instead to dust its proboscis with short- 

 styled pollen and wipe it on long-styled stigmas, and 

 vice versa. The case is not quite satisfactory yet, 

 for some critics, like the indefatigable Mr. E. T. 



