

THE FLOWERY WAY 



WITHIN the village, where the road winds under the 

 hill before climbing the shoulder, the celandine is 

 now in full glory. Axle-high, all along the side of 

 the road, the dark, glossy leaves are starred with the 

 polished blossom, and a little maiden, free from the 

 fear of motor-cars in this quiet and ill-metalled lane, 

 is gathering them into a golden handful. Children 

 like their flowers in leafless bunches primroses or 

 celandine or violets pressed one by one into a palpable 

 hoard of blossom and a solidity of scent. Their 

 mothers please them by finding a crock to put the 

 bunches in, and at this time of the year every cottage 

 will show upon the dresser one or other of the 

 favourite spring flowers. Afterwards, when flowers 

 are everywhere and of many kinds, less notice is 

 taken of them. One would think that the spring 

 flowers would be exterminated and the summer 

 species far more common, but even the violets that 

 are for a week or two sought far and wide, at last 

 bloom unheeded all through the village street, to 

 come up just as abundantly again next year. 



The colt's-foot is comparatively immune, but the 

 dandelions have to pay heavy toll to the acquisitive 

 instincts of the children. Every paw in the place 

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