THE STORY OF A BLADE OF GRASS. 
5 
IT. WHERE TO FIND IT. 
Everywhere ! In all climates, all soils, all positions. 
It will make a prostrate pillar into a cushioned seat for 
the meditative traveller among the ruins; it does not 
disdain a home on a dust heap; I have seen many a 
brave tuft high up on the shaft of a chimney; and last 
summer Poa annua grew luxuriantly at the foot of the 
statue of King William, on the city side of London 
Bridge. Many years ago there used to be some fine 
tufts of this poa , and also cynosurus crislatus, on the 
square blocks of stone above the steps leading to the 
water, on the City side of London Bridge, and in the 
midst of them, rooted firmly in the crevices between the 
stones, was a little cherry tree. Just about that time 
M. X. B. Saintine published his charming story of 
“Picciola,” which was translated into almost every lan¬ 
guage of the world; and here, through an abridgement 
published by the Messrs. Chambers, was read by 
thousands of persons. I remember once halting in 
front of the pigmy cherry tree, and revolving in my mind 
all the points in that enchanting story, in order to make 
a “ Picciola ” of it. I think it was a wall-flower which 
the reflective Charney set his heart upon with a fondness 
almost fanatic, and it was, therefore, a true prison-flower. 
But this cherry tree never put forth a blossom, and there 
was no prison even within sight of it, and by no stretch 
of the imagination could I make a decent day-dream; 
while a thousand elbows made a thousand separate 
thrusts at my ribs and sides, and the business that 
