FERNS AS A HOBBY 



in the plant-world, travel is quite a different thing 

 from what it is to one who does not know a mint 

 from a mustard. The shortest journey to a new 

 locality is full of interest to the traveller who is striv- 

 ing to lengthen his list of plant acquaintances. The 

 tedious waits around the railway station are wel- 

 comed as opportunities for fresh discoveries. The 

 slow local train receives blessings instead of anath- 

 emas because of the superiority of its windows as 

 posts of observation. The long stage ride is too 

 short to satisfy the plant-lover who is keeping count 

 of the different species by the roadside. 



While crossing the continent on the Canadian 

 Pacific Railway a few years ago, the days spent in 

 traversing the vast plains east of the Rockies were 

 days of keen enjoyment on account of the new 

 plants seen from my window and gathered breath- 

 lessly for identification during the brief stops. But 

 to most of my fellow-passengers they were days of 

 unmitigated boredom. They could not comprehend 

 the reluctance with which I met each nightfall as 

 an interruption to my watch. 



When, finally, one cold June morning we climbed 

 the glorious Canadian Rockies and were driven to 

 the hotel at Banff, where we were to rest for 

 twenty-four hours, the enjoyment of the previous 

 week was crowned by seeing the dining-room tables 

 decorated with a flower which I had never suc- 

 ceeded in finding in the woods at home. It was the 

 lovely little orchid. Calypso borealis, a shy, wild 

 creature which had been brought to me from the 



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