CHAPTER IX 



THE JULY FIELDS 



" Through rich green solitudes, 

 And wildly hanging woods 

 With blossoms and with bell, 

 In rich redundant swell. 



And the pride 

 Of the mountain daisy there. 

 And the forest everywhere. 

 With the dress and with the air 

 Of a bride." 



Duncan Ban MacIntyre. 



Amid the brilliant floral gathering which crowds 

 into the arena of the Alps upon the blazoned entry 

 of July, one marks no sign of the fair and frail 

 St. Bruno's Lily. Nor is this as it should not be. 

 Dainty to the point of extreme delicacy, this 

 flower of Paradise is justly of a season more 

 restrained, and one should not heap regrets upon 

 its absence from so flamboyant a concourse as this 

 present. The rich-blue Bell Gentian is hkewise 

 absent from the gay and jostling crowd, having at 



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