186 PEPACTON 



purple and gold, he found tiiem scentless also. 

 "Where are your fragrant flowers? " he might well 

 say; "I can find none." Let him look closer and 

 penetrate our forests, and visit our ponds and lakes. 

 Let him compare our matchless, rosy-lipped, honey- 

 hearted trailing arbutus with his own ugly ground- 

 ivy; let him compare our sumptuous, fragrant pond- 

 lily with his own odorless Nymphcea alba. In our 

 Northern woods he shall find the floors carpeted 

 with the delicate linnaea, its twin rose-eolored, nod- 

 ding flowers filling the air with fragrance. (I am 

 aware that the linnsea is found in some parts of 

 Northern Europe.) The fact is, we perhaps have 

 as many sweet-scented wild flowers as Europe has, 

 only they are not quite so prominent in our flora, 

 nor so well known to our people or to our poets. 

 Think of Wordsworth's "Golden Daff'odils: " — 



" I wandered lonely as a cloud 



That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 

 "When, all at once, I saw a crowd, 



A host of golden daffodils, 

 Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 

 Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 



" Continuous as the stars that shine 

 And twinkle on the milkj' way, 

 They stretched in never-ending line 



Along the margin of a bay. 

 Ten thousand saw I at a glance. 

 Tossing their heads in sprightly dance." 



No such sight could greet the poet's eye here. 

 He might see ten thousand marsh marigolds, or ten 

 times ten thousand houstonias, but they would not 



