THE WILD GARDEN. 



157 



we all know the daisies, the clovers, buttercups, lilies, and mead- 

 ow-rue. Even in the burning sand-dunes of the sea -shore or the 

 desert we may be sure of a number of faithful missionaries, while 

 the same sand that chances to rim the lake 

 nurses a distinctly different brood. 



The swamp claims a long list of choice 

 favorites, while even from the ripples of the 

 lake or the " depths beneath " you may 

 gather the same consistent bouquet. 



When the geologist hears of the open- 

 ing of a new quarry or the blasting of a 

 tunnel he is quickly on the spot for his 

 harvest of crystal. So with the botanist ; 

 the same new conditions turn up nuggets 

 for him also. 



Burroughs discovered a blasted ledge 

 draped in the beautiful climbing fumito- 

 ry where the plant had never before been 

 known, which singular fact may possibly 

 throw some light on the old belief 

 which is said to have christened the 

 flower. " The fumitory/' as Gerarde 

 says of an allied plant with similar 

 ways of sudden appearance in broken 

 ground, " is fabled to be engendered of 

 a coarse fumosity rising from the earth, 

 which windeth and wrieth about, and 

 by working in the air and sun is turned 

 into this herb." How simple it all seems 

 when it is explained ! 



I once visited a similar blast in a haunt 

 known all my life, and was astonished to 

 find the ruins rosy with literal beds of the 

 small catchfly pink, accompanied by a rank 

 growth of pasture mullein, growing in the, depths of a dense wood ! 



Who knows what a wild garden might be coaxed from a 



A GROUP OF ORCHIDS. 



