Elfin Laundry 
flowering we know that winter is surely gone over the 
hills and can no more come back than last night can. It 
is noticeable that some of these trees are of a much more 
vivid red than others; a condition which is due to the fact 
that such individuals are bearers of the pistillate flowers, 
which are a deep crimson in color, while those of the stam- 
inate trees have a tone of yellow in them. 
Among the firstlings of the floral year is that dainty 
wild flower to which common speech has attached the 
unpoetic but obvious name of Dutchman’s breeches. 
These early April days, as one threads the recesses of rich 
moist woodlands, one occasionally comes upon a colony of 
it, the prettily dissected foliage covering the ground per¬ 
haps for square yards like a gossamer carpet. From the 
midst of leafy coverts here and there the flower stalks 
arise strung with the odd breeches-like blossoms, one set 
above another, sometimes eight or ten on a stalk. 
To walk unexpectedly upon such a scene is like sur¬ 
prising Fairyland with its masculine wash hung up on 
poles to dry. One’s fancy likes to dwell upon the thought 
of stout Hollandish elves fitted into those cream-colored 
inexpressibles, each with a lovely yellow frill at the waist¬ 
band, the whole of such a tinting and texture as philosophy 
of human tailor never dreamt of. This charming wild 
flower is cousin to the showy bleeding heart of old gardens. 
April 15. —“The rose is red, the violet’s blue”—so 
runs the familiar song of childhood, but it does scant 
justice to the various hues of either rose or violet. The 
first, indeed, of native violets to bloom bears a lovely yel¬ 
low blossom—a quaint, saffron bonnet streaked with brown 
[ 31 ] 
