A TALK ABOUT THE PRIMROSE. 
67 
and then my aunt waited till he put on his work-a-days, because 
he had gone out in his Sunday knickers, and took him home 
with me. 
After dinner, aunt says, “ I’ll tell you, young ones, why I was 
so cross this morning. I live in a town near London, and although 
there are lanes and hedges near it, there are no wild flowers. In 
some parts of these lanes primroses and violets used to grow, but 
men came with sacks and dug them all up, so that now you may 
walk for miles before you can see a flower. It is the same with 
ferns, which I love to see growing, because they remind me of 
the days when I lived in this beautiful country, far away from 
hateful smoke and filthy dust, and horrible smells from refuse 
and drains. I have no garden, and near me there is no common 
or open space even, on which the grass might grow through the 
smuts. I live in a tangle of houses.” Tom looked quite 
frightened. “ I try to keep the wild flowers in my memory, by 
reading about them and getting as much out of them — though 
not by your plan, Tom — as I can.” 
“ What do you mean, aunt ? ” I asked. 
“ Well,” she said, “ I know that the root which Tom dug up 
is formed at the radicular e.xtremity of the embryo. I know how 
to pronounce these words, because the last curate lodged at our 
house, and taught me the meanings and quantities of them.” 
“Aunt,” I said, “I am so sorry, but I have such a pain in my 
head; perhaps it’s the sun.” 
“No,” replied aunt, “it is not, it is the long words; they 
generally make young people faint. Tom has a primrose still 
sticking out of his pocket, and we will see whether we can get an 
answer to its riddle. Girls are sharper than boys. Can you 
describe this primrose, Olive?” asked aunt. 
I said, “ It has five yellow leaves stuck in a — in a — sort of a 
green holder with five points, and down the middle there is ever 
such a long hole, with a sort of planty stick with some thready 
things with tops to them in it.” 
“ There’s sweet stuff at the bottom,” said Tom. 
“ I must tell you,” began aunt, “ that plants are related to 
each other like your brothers and your cousins and your aunts, 
and people who know all about them put them, according to their 
habits and appearance, into families and classes. First they are 
divided into two groups, those that flower, and those — like 
mosses, ferns, and seaweeds — which do not. The primrose, of 
course, belongs to the group producing flowers and seeds, from 
which grow little plants. The cord-like roots spring from a 
rough underground stem, called the root-stock, crowned with 
leaves. If you cut the primrose in half you will see that around 
the top of the little flower-stalk is one green cup with the five 
points, in which rests the tube of the five yellow flower leaves. 
Inside the tube are the five thread stalks, on the top of which a 
double purse holding a yellow flower-dust, which, when made 
large through a magnifying glass, is wonderfully beautiful. In 
