27 
is the Greek word for flower. The yellow dust 
they contain is called farina.” 
“ How I wish all the flower-language was En¬ 
glish,” said Mary, “ and then I could understand it 
better.” The Crocus smiled and continued. 
“ Each separate grain of that fine dust is like a 
balloon full of light vapor, which floats on the in¬ 
visible wings of the air, or is carried by insects to 
the stigma which looks so much like the crest on 
the head of that great cock who crows so loud in 
the morning. Within the stigma it finds a drop of 
moisture, and when the bafloon of air and that drop 
of moisture meet, the balloon bursts, and their 
spirits mingle together, and descending through the 
long pistil into the dark bulb, make new life in my 
seeds for another year.” 
“ I do not like the bulb,” said Mary ; “ it is ugly, 
and keeps in the ground where it should be.” 
