APRIL DAYS 59 
that the Norse Eddas fabled the first woman to 
have been named Embla, because she was cre- 
ated from an alder bough. 
The first wild-flower of the year is like land 
after sea. The two which, throughout the 
Northern Atlantic States, divide this interest 
are the L£pig@a repens (Mayflower, ground 
laurel, or trailing arbutus) and the Hepatica tri- 
Joba (liverleaf, liverwort, or blue anemone). Of 
these two, the latter is perhaps more immedi- 
ately exciting on first discovery, because it is 
an annual, not a perennial, and so does not, 
like the epigzea, exhibit its buds all winter, 
but opens its blue eyes almost as soon as it 
emerges from the ground. Without the rich 
and delicious odor of its compeer, it has an 
inexpressibly fresh and earthy scent, that seems 
to bring all the promise of the blessed season 
with it; indeed, that clod of fresh turf with the 
inhalation of which Lord Bacon delighted to 
begin the day must undoubtedly have been 
full of the roots of our little hepatica. Its 
healthy sweetness belongs to the opening year, 
like Chaucer’s poetry; and one thinks that 
anything more potent and voluptuous would be 
less enchanting — until one turns to the May- 
flower. Then comes a richer fascination for 
the senses. To pick the Mayflower is like 
following in the footsteps of some spendthrift 
