A Window in Arcady 
wake-robins of America are those pretty mountaineer 
cousins of the lilies known to the botanical as trilliums. 
In our neighborhood we have but one species, a denizen 
of loamy, moist woods, and nowadays somewhat of a 
rarity. The plant looks very much like the Jack-in-the- 
pulpit, but the pure white blossom is hidden from view 
beneath the large green leaves that top the stalk. 
Wake-robins are strange plants in their persistent de¬ 
votion to the mystic number three. Thus the number of 
leaves is three ,* three are the petals of the flowers, and three 
the divisions of the calyx; the pistil is three-parted and set 
about with stamens whose number is twice three. To 
cap the climax, the seed vessel is three-celled within and 
frequently three-angled without. In the mountains a 
species is common which bears conspicuous pods of a dull 
crimson color. These have appealed to the rustic imagina¬ 
tion in such a way as to gain for the plant among the 
country folk the very realistic names of “bloody noses” and 
“nose-bleed.” 
Thick as autumn,; leaves-in Vallambrosa’s storied brook, 
the mottled leaves of* the^ dog’s/tooth violet are clustered 
now in almost every damp wood and shady meadow, and 
lifted above them here and there the yellow lily-like blos¬ 
soms nod and nod. That this flower should be called a 
violet is misleading, for it is a true lily, and looks every 
inch its lily-hood—one of the most splendid of our wild 
flowers. The plants that bloom are, as a rule, at least three 
years old, and their history is rather interesting. The first 
year’s seedling consists simply of one leaf springing from a 
bulb lying close to the surface of the ground. This little 
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