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whose lobes are narrow and much recurved, other flowers having 

 lobes almost as broad as they are long, and opening nearly flat. 

 The flowers most commonly found, however, have lobes about half 

 as wide as long, one being less recurved than the others. Young 

 bushes are very symmetrical but after they begin blooming they 

 soon become ragged and misshapen. A bush in full bloom is 

 almost beyond description. The flowers are rich in perfume, and 

 bees are always busy among them. I saw a bush this spring which 

 I am tempted to believe had never before been seen by human eyes 

 — at least not in bloom — and I would not have seen it if I had 

 not heard the hum of the bees. I was "way in the back of 

 beyond," enjoying earth and sky and trying to be thankful 

 enough for all the beauty around me, when I became conscious 

 of a peculiar sound, which I soon realized was the hum of many 

 bees. "Where bees are flowers are," I thought. "There must 

 be many bees to make such a nofse so there must be many 

 flowers." On my left were open meadows, full of beautiful 

 things, but nothing to account for the bees. To the right was 

 a dense thicket, extending to the wooded hills beyond, and as 

 I listened the sound seemed to come from the right and a little 

 ahead of me, so I started in that direction, cutting my way through 

 alders, spice bushes, wild cherries and viburnums, all interlaced 

 with cat-brier. My progress was slow and painful, but presently 

 I caught a glimpse of pale pink, like a fluffy cloud resting on the 

 ground. With growing wonder I plied my knife, and edged my 

 way on, until I suddenly came into a little open space, and then 

 I was more than repaid for my toil. The bush was close to 

 ten feet high, I should think, and fully that in its greatest 

 diameter. "Nudiflora" exactly described it, for there were no 

 leaves, and hardly a bit of the twigs could be seen, the flowers 

 were crowded so closely. They were much smaller and paler 

 than those usually found, but it seemed to me they were more 

 fragrant. One gaunt dead branch was mute evidence of the 

 recent hard winter, and I braved the bees long enough to cut it 

 away, then sat down and enjoyed that bush for half an hour. 

 I longed for my camera, yet knew no camera could do justice to 

 its beauty, so I have only a memory of one of the most beautiful 

 things I ever saw. 



