This is the admonition that should be 
carried abroad on every suburban 
ramble. The healthy and growing 
interest in the great out-of-doors 
cannot be contemplated without a shudder at the 
destruction of plant life it seems to entail. A 
childish delight in the brilliant or delicate tints 
of a flower, in its enticing perfume, and its spirit 
of renewing life, prompts the ready little hand 
to reach and pluck. There is no more delightfu 
sight than a child with cheeks and eyes aglow 
and hands filled with the rich and dainty trea- 
sures gathered from the deep shades of the woods. 
But the speedily wilted and faded masses must 
inspire a feeling of regret, and perhaps of pity, even 
in the childish mind, for the fruitless destruction that 
has been wrought. Wild flowers unresistingly wither 
and die when plucked and brought out into the bright 
sunshine, a most appealing protest against their 
destruction. Their place is in the shades of wooded 
hillsides, along damp, swampy ravines, or nestling 
among ungainly roots, where the trunks of an older 
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