AMONG THE WILD FLOWEES 25 



that this mother root in all cases comes to the 

 surface. Why it should como at all is a mystery, 

 unless it be in some way to get more power for the 

 downward thrust. My own observations upon the 

 subject are not complete, but I think in the fore- 

 going I have given the clew as to how the bulb each 

 year sinks deeper and deeper into the ground. 



It is a pity that this graceful and abundant flower 

 has no good and appropriate common name. It is 

 the earliest of the true lilies, and it has all the grace 

 and charm that belong to this order of flowers. 

 ErythroniuTTb, its botanical name, is not good, as it 

 is derived from a Greek word that means red, while 

 one species of our flower is yellow and the other is 

 white. How it came to be called adder's- tongue 

 I do not know ; probably from the spotted character 

 of the leaf, which might suggest a snake, though it 

 in no wise resembles a snake's tongue. A fawn is 

 spotted, too, and " fawn-lily " would be better than 

 adder's- tongue. Still better is the name " trout- 

 lily," which has recently been proposed for this 

 plant. It blooms along the trout streams, and its 

 leaf is as mottled as a trout's back. The name 

 " dog's-tooth" may have been suggested by the 

 shape and color of the bud, but how the " violet " 

 came to be added is a puzzle, as it has not one 

 feature of the violet. It is only another illustra- 

 tion of the haphazard way in which our wild flow- 

 ers, as well as our birds, have been named. 



In my spring rambles I have sometimes come 

 upon a solitary specimen of this yellow lily grow- 



