A SUBURBAN RAMBLE 
23 
name. The Hepaticas come out as if they had 
enjoyed the winter. Their characteristic leaves are 
full of vitality, although their stems may droop. And 
in the centre among the stems the rising woolly 
bunches are reaching up, preparing to unfold the 
delicate flowers already impatient for the early sun. 
The Trailing Arbutus is still more eager, though 
advancing more quietly under the dead Oak leaves. 
Where an occasional leaf shows only a hard vitality, a 
careful search close to the moist ground will disclose 
flowers already open, showing delicate white and 
pink and enriching the air with perfume. 
Rich red patches on the Silver Birch show where 
vandals have robbed the trees of their beauty. The 
sublime egotism of the human name, at which the 
greatest of all egotists in modern literature marvelled, 
is seen in the initial letters with which the bark is 
defaced. More stirring to the fancy is a cabalistic 
design cut with care and regularity in the white bark. 
It is not the insignia of any secret order, inscribed in 
the enthusiastic faith of a neophyte. There is no 
clue to the intent or purpose of the strange marks. 
They are hidden away in the loneliest spot, in 
contrast with the conspicuously displayed initials. 
Fancy and speculation are dampened by the multi- 
plicity of influences that prompt humanity to action. 
In the nibbled bark of a broken limb we see where the 
Field Mice, driven from home by the recent floods, 
