The Chorus of the Forest 



freedom and out-door sports, and seldom go to 

 the woods. 



I once knew an Irishman who, in reference to 

 being greedy about anything, said it was always 

 his way to "take a little and leave a little." I wish "Take a 

 I could impress this splendid doctrine upon all 

 flower hunters, especially city folk who go pleas- Little 

 ure-driving through the country. Frequently 

 while at my work in the fields and woods I meet 

 them, and they never leave anything, not even the 

 roots, unless it be wild rose, goldenrod, or some- 

 thing so profuse they can not possibly take all. 

 That is not the worst. They are not prepared to 

 gather flowers. They see a lovely red, blue, or 

 yellow bloom, and jump from their carriages long 

 enough to drag up the plant by the roots. If the 

 flower is a hardy annual, this means death. If a 

 seedling, it is death also, for no seed remains to 

 ripen. I hope that I may live to see the day when 

 our wild flowers will be protected by law, the same 

 as our birds. 



If the flowers had been created to furnish 

 sweets for honey-gatherers and feeders only, all of 

 them might as well have been green or have con- 

 sisted merely of stamen and pistil. I never will 

 believe that the gorgeously colored petals are only 

 a signal to attract bees and butterflies. The the- 

 ory is confounded in the beginning by the differ- 

 ing colors and the fact that many brilliant flow- 

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