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tered flowers suggesting St. Andrew’s cross in 
shape, and if the rambler will take the trouble 
to dig an inch or two into the moist soil below 
them he will find a group of little tubers whose 
pleasant taste touches his tongue with the pun- 
gent joy of spring. In the swampy place near 
iby are the broad leaves of the marsh marigold 
(Caltha palustris), often incorrectly called 
ithe cowslip, and above the heart-shaped shields 
rise the golden flowers. 
In a sheltered open where the wind does not 
reach and the sunshine falls in a fitful burst, 
the rambler can pause and listen. Far away, 
NATURE'S REALM. 
high among the bare branches of a knot of 
oaks, a pair of crows are cawing, laying plans 
doubtless for the summer. In a cluster of 
beeches a squad of blue jays are mustering 
noisily, From some nearer sunny nook close 
by its nesting place come the sweetest notes of 
spring, the bluebird’s song. The cheery tones 
of the robin ring out not tar away, and with 
that most beloved of our bird songs, memory 
draws again the pictures of cherry trees snowy 
with blossom and a peach orchard pink with 
bloom, and there comes a flood of associations 
clustering around a boyhood country home. 
