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invasion as mine； if he will but give himself up to a sense of it。
I。
Of course it is altogether too late； now； to look for any of the early
spring flowers； but I can recall the exquisite effect of the tender blue
hepatica fringing the centre rail of the grip…cars； all up and down
Broadway； and apparently springing from the hollow beneath； where the
cable ran with such a brooklike gurgle that any damp…living plant must
find itself at home there。 The water…pimpernel may now be seen； by any
sympathetic eye； blowing delicately along the track； in the breeze of the
passing cabs； and elastically lifting itself from the rush of the cars。
The reader can easily verify it by the picture in Mrs。 Creevey's book。
He knows it by its other name of brook weed； and he will have my delight；
I am sure； in the cardinal…flower which will be with us in August。 It is
a shy flower； loving the more sequestered nooks； and may be sought along
the shady stretches of Third Avenue； where the Elevated Road overhead
forms a shelter as of interlacing boughs。 The arrow…head likes such
swampy expanses as the converging surface roads form at Dead Man's Curve
and the corners of Twenty third Street。 This is in flower now； and will
be till September； and St。…John's…wort； which some call the false golden…
rod； is already here。 You may find it in any moist； low ground； but the
gutters of Wall Street； or even the banks of the Stock Exchange； are not
too dry for it。 The real golden…rod is not much in evidence with us； for
it comes only when summer is on the wane。 The other night； however； on
the promenade of the Madison Square Roof Garden； I was delighted to see
it growing all over the oblong dome of the auditorium； in response to the
cry of a homesick cricket which found itself in exile there at the base
of a potted ever green。 This lonely insect had no sooner sounded its
winter…boding note than the fond flower began sympathetically to wave and
droop along those tarry slopes； as I have seen it on how many hill…side
pastures！ But this may have been only a transitory response to the
cricket； and I cannot promise the visitor to the Roof Garden that he will
find golden…rod there every night。 I believe there is always Golden
Seal； but it is the kind that comes in bottles； and not in the gloom of
〃deep； cool； moist woods；〃 where Mrs。 Creevey describes it as growing；
along with other wildings of such sweet names or quaint as Celandine； and
Dwarf Larkspur； and Squirrel…corn； and Dutchman's breeches； and
Pearlwort； and Wood…sorrel； and Bishop'scap； and Wintergreen； and
Indian…pipe； and Snowberry； and Adder's…tongue； and Wakerobin； and
Dragon…root； and Adam…and…Eve； and twenty more； which must have got their
names from some fairy of genius。 I should say it was a female fairy of
genius who called them so； and that she had her own sex among mortals in
mind when she invented their nomenclature； and was thinking of little
girls； and slim； pretty maids； and happy young wives。 The author tells
how they all look； with a fine sense of their charm in her words； but one
would know how they looked from their names； and when you call them over
they at once transplant themselves to the depths of the dells between our
sky…scrapers； and find a brief sojourn in the cavernous excavations
whence other sky…scrapers are to rise。
II。
That night on the Roof Garden； when the cricket's cry flowered the dome
with golden…rod； the tall stems of rye growing among the orchestra sloped
all one way at times； just like the bows of violins； in the half…dollar
gale that always blows over the city at that height。 But as one turns
the leaves of Mrs。 Creevey's magic book…perhaps one ought to say turns
its petalsthe forests and the fields come and make themselves at home
in the city everywhere。 By virtue of it I have been more in the country
in a half…hour than if I had lived all June there。 When I lift my eyes
from its pictures or its letter…press my vision prints the eidolons of
wild flowers everywhere； as it prints the image of the sun against the
air after dwelling on his brightness。 The rose…mallow flaunts along
Fifth Avenue and the golden threads of the dodder embroider the house
fronts on the principal cross streets； and I might think at times that it
was all mere fancy； it has so much the quality of a pleasing illusion。
Yet Mrs。 Creevey's book is not one to lend itself to such a deceit by any
of the ordinary arts。 It is rather matter of fact in form and manner；
and largely owes what magic it has to the inherent charm of its subject。
One feels this in merely glancing at the index； and reading such titles
of chapters as 〃Wet Meadows and Low Grounds〃； 〃Dry FieldsWaste Places
Waysides〃； 〃Hills and Rocky Woods； Open Woods〃； and 〃Deep； Cool； Moist
Woods〃； each a poem in itself； lyric or pastoral； and of a surpassing
opulence of suggestion。 The spring and； summer months pass in stately
processional through the book； each with her fillet inscribed with the
names of her characteristic flowers or blossoms； and brightened with the
blooms themselves。
They are plucked from where nature bade them grow in the wild places； or
their own wayward wills led them astray。 A singularly fascinating
chapter is that called 〃Escaped from Gardens；〃 in which some of these
pretty runagates are catalogued。 I supposed in my liberal ignorance that
the Bouncing Bet was the only one of these； but I have learned that the
Pansy and the Sweet Violet love to gad； and that the Caraway； the
Snapdragon； the Prince's Feather； the Summer Savory； the Star of
Bethlehem； the Day…Lily； and the Tiger…Lily； and even the sluggish Stone
Crop are of the vagrant； fragrant company。 One is not surprised to meet
the Tiger…Lily in it； that must always have had the jungle in its heart；
but that the Baby's Breath should be found wandering by the road…sides
from Massachusetts and Virginia to Ohio； gives one a tender pang as for a
lost child。 Perhaps the poor human tramps； who sleep in barns and feed
at back doors along those dusty ways； are mindful of the Baby's Breath；
and keep a kindly eye out for the little truant。
III。
As I was writing those homely names I felt again how fit and lovely they
were； how much more fit and lovely than the scientific names of the
flowers。 Mrs。 Creevey will make a botanist of you if you will let her；
and I fancy a very good botanist； though I cannot speak from experience；
but she will make a poet of you in spite of yourself； as I very well
know； and she will do this simply by giving you first the familiar name
of the flowers she loves to write of。 I am not saying that the Day…Lily
would not smell as sweet by her title of 'Hemerocallis Fulva'； or that
the homely； hearty Bouncing Bet would not kiss as deliciously in her
scholar's cap and gown of 'Saponaria Officinalis'； but merely that their
college degrees do not lend themselves so willingly to verse； or even
melodious prose； which is what the poet is often after nowadays。 So I
like best to hail the flowers by the names that the fairies gave them；
and the children know them by； especially when my longing for them makes
them grow h