250 ARBOR DAY 



or down in those lovely woods among the beds of 

 linnaea! Never to have found the spring-beauty 

 and the wood-sorrel, and the dog's-tooth violet, and 

 Jack-in- the-pulpit! Never to have seen banks 

 of scarlet columbine, and a whole milky-way of the 

 silvery miterwort! Never to have come home from 

 the pasture with lady's slippers and red lilies; 

 or been on the meadows in cowslip time, or by the 

 pond when the lilies were open! Never to have 

 had all the goldenrod and asters one wanted! 



It seems as if a child had not had his rightful share 

 in this world when he has been limited to some pent- 

 up court or narrow street. Every child is born with 

 a love for flowers. Yet many a little one must be 

 satisfied with the dandelion that comes up in the 

 backyard, which the eager fingers reach for as a 

 miser would for gold. 



Every generous boy and girl who has been used 

 to having wild flowers enough must have often 

 longed to share them with those who had none; 

 to send them by the barrel full; to load down express 

 wagons with daisies and lilies (oh, so many there are 

 on the green meadows in midsummer!) and have 

 them distributed all along those city byways, and 

 in the hospitals where sick children are lying in 

 pain. It would be like opening the doors and letting 

 the country in; for they would carry with them the 

 dew of the meadows, and the woodsy smells. You 

 could almost seem to hear the cow-bells tinkle, the 



