CHAPTER TEN 



BORDER IRISES 



"I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out." 



Shakespeare. 



WHEN one sees the rainbow banners of the Iris 

 unfurling along the borders in the sunshine 

 it seems highly probable that the mantle of 

 their namesake has fallen upon them, and that they are 

 indeed messengers of the gods, and it seems well to in- 

 cline one's ear and open wide one's eyes lest we miss 

 some smallest shade of meaning in this rarely illumi- 

 nated message brought to us by these brave couriers 

 across the wintry wastes. 



The period covered by the blossoming of the Iris is 

 full of enjoyment to me. Since the days when all my 

 knowledge of this great and varied family was vested 

 in the common purple Iris of old gardens and the gay 

 Flag-flowers, which lie in June upon our moist meadows, 

 "like the silent shadow of a cloud," their spell has been 

 upon me, and it was a discovery of much delight that 

 these two were but lowly members of a great company 

 that would gladly bloom in my garden; would fill 

 it from April through July with a lovely, unexacting 

 throng demanding little attention and no special con- 



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