THE CARNIVAL 6i 
Mountain and elsewhere, closely resembling this 
of the brookside, though it grows on the dry slopes, 
yielding the same delicious fragrance. It may be 
said in passing that sweet-fern, dear to the heart of 
every one familiar with New England pastures, also 
grows on Toxaway, Pisgah, and other of the high 
mountains. What a turn it gives one to see it here 
unexpectedly and to smell its incomparable odor, an 
odor that more than any other revives slumbering 
memories. 
But these fragrant white azaleas are like the epi- 
logue at the end of the play. When the gleaming 
petals of the Rhododendron maximum fall away, the 
curtain has dropped on the Carnival of the Flowers, 
and spring moves on into summer and fruitage. 
