"You may take the same walk fifty-two times a year, year after year, as he did, and yet no two walks will be alike.
"Now Sarah shall clear the table and I will fetch my portfolio of sketches."
When Aunt Lizzie returned she said, "These are all wild flowers here.--You know that one?"
"Why, yes, it is a primrose. We should know what a primrose was like better by this than by the dried ones. Why, aunt! you have painted a whole lot of them growing just as they do grow."
"Yes; I like, if I can, to paint the flowers in their natural places, besides taking a single flower and painting it the size of life. Look at that wild rose-bush mixed with bramble in that piece of hedge; underneath it I have painted a small spray of roses and buds."
"What is that pretty little flower?" asked Annie; "I don"t remember ever having seen one like it."
"It is the wood-sorrel; a very lovely little thing it is too. It is common in woods and shady places; but the flowers are almost over now."
"We have some roots of it in the shrubbery, and I saw one flower in bloom there this morning," said Katey.
"Well, you may all go and look at it, if you like." So the children scampered away to look at the small pale, drooping flower.
"What pretty leaves it has!" said Mary. "I have brought one with me; it looks like a cl.u.s.ter of leaves in one."
"Yes; the bright, transparent leaves and stems are very delicate. These leaves will frequently fold up, if knocked, like the leaves of a sensitive plant. You can look for a plant in the woods and try it. The leaves, too, have a very acid taste."
"I see a violet root. I like violets because of their sweet smell," said Annie.
"I like what are called dog-violets too," said her aunt. "They have no smell at all, but they grow all the summer through, in hedges and in gra.s.s, in such large quant.i.ties that the turf often looks like an embroidered carpet.
"The flower is very similar to the scented violet, only it is of a pale grayish blue. I have painted two roots side by side, one of the scented, one of the dog-violet; also a specimen of the white violet, which is not so common as that of the dark kind, but its smell is quite as delicious."
The children were delighted to recognize, among others, sketches of daisies, cowslips, b.u.t.tercups, wood-anemones, wild hyacinths, forget-me-nots, eyebright, red and white clover, and many kinds of flowering gra.s.ses and graceful fern leaves.
"What is that?" they said, as they saw something that looked curious but not pretty.
"That is one of the sketches I took in Cornwall two or three miles from the Land"s End. It is a poor, unhappy furze-bush, covered with dodder.
The dodder is what is called a parasitical plant; that is, a plant that lives entirely on another. There are several kinds of dodders: some live entirely on flax, some on nettles, but those that stick to clover and furze-bushes are the most common in this country.
"When the seed of a dodder dropped into the ground begins to grow, it feels about for the kind of plant it wants to live upon: if it cannot find it, it dies.
"This furze dodder, you see, has found what it wanted, and, having done so, began at once to coil its pink thread-like stem on that of the furze. Now it had gained its footing, and threw out a great many more fine stems in all directions, after the fashion of strawberry runners, rooting as it grew. There are thousands of little dodder plants sucking the life out of the furze. I have seen many of the bushes quite smothered, and even killed, by this unpleasant and greedy plant.
"When you are older, if you study the ways of plants, you will find them quite as interesting as those of animals. They have to get their living; and some, like the dodder, prefer to get it at the expense of another; and others resort to all kinds of plans to keep themselves and their kinds alive.
"The acid of the pretty wood-sorrel is a poison, so nothing will eat it; and the b.u.t.tercups growing in meadows are untouched by cattle, because of the poison in their leaves and stems.
"I might tell you of many other plants that live in safety because they are defended by poison, or thorns, or p.r.i.c.kles, or some peculiar shape.
The leaves of the common holly are only p.r.i.c.kly on the lower branches, where it needs protection from browsing cattle.
"Then there are wonderful contrivances for keeping not only the single plant but its kind alive, which you will learn one day.
"There are plants which bear seeds in very great numbers, like the field-poppy, so that some of them are sure to survive. The winds carry other seeds to great distances, because they have beautiful feathery down attached to them, which causes them to be easily blown about--such as thistle and dandelion seeds.
"Birds, too, are great seed-sowers: they eat the wild fruits which contain the seed. These fruits are generally red or black, so as to attract birds to them. Among the red ones are hips, the fruit of the wild rose; and haws, which contain the seed of the white-thorn. Among the black are blackberries, the fruit of the bramble; and sloes, which are like a very small hard plum. The birds eat these, and drop the seed which is inside of the fruit on to the ground."
Then Sarah came into the room to say that Jane had come from Woodside to take the children back.
"We must wait for Jack," said Mary.
"Yes," said Aunt Lizzie. "I daresay the boys will be home directly. Why, here they are.--How hot you look, Jack!"
"It is so warm to night, aunt, and we have walked fast. We"ve had a splendid time of it at Charley Foster"s, and we stayed till the last minute, so we hurried home at last." Where-upon Jack drew out his pocket-handkerchief to wipe his hot face, forgetting all about the little frogs. The loose knot slipped, and you may guess what happened.
The frogs, delighted to get out of Jack"s warm pocket, were soon hopping about the room.
"What have you there, Jack? what does this mean?" asked Aunt Lizzie. But she could not help laughing, for she knew what odd things boys will do.
Jack explained to her how he had caught the young frogs to put into the Woodside pond, that he might watch them there.
"Well, you must catch them again," said his aunt, "and I will give you a paper bag to carry them in, only you need not suppose that there are no frogs in grandpapa"s pond. Charley"s pond is large and shaded, while the Woodside pond is small and open; and the weather has been very dry lately, so the frogs have kept in the soft mud at the bottom. You will see plenty of young frogs after the next shower of rain hopping about the edges of that pond."
IX.
_AFTER THE RAIN._
"The very earth, the steamy air, Are all with fragrance rife; And grace and beauty everywhere Are bursting into life.
Down, down they come, those fruitful stores, Those earth-rejoicing drops; A momentary deluge pours, Then thins, decreases, stops."
ANON.
"There seems likely to be a change in the weather," said grandpapa one morning at breakfast. "The wind has got round to the west, and there are clouds about."
"I am so glad," said Mary.
"So am I," added Annie. "It has been too hot for the last two or three weeks."
"We shall all be glad to see a little rain," said grandpapa; "the garden wants it badly enough, and so do the newly-mown fields."
Grandpapa was right, for sure enough during the day there were many cooling showers, which made everything out of doors look bright and fresh.
In the evening grandmamma sat at work in the drawing-room by the open doors which led straight into the garden, and the children were with her.
Jack was lying on the floor with his face to the garden, and supposed to be reading a book; while the little girls were busy with some easy fancy-work, making something to take home to their mother when they left Woodside.
Jack seemed to be more interested in something out of doors than he was in his book. At last he exclaimed, "Grandmamma, do look; isn"t that a beautiful white fleecy cloud?"
"Yes, it is indeed, Jack. Clouds _are_ beautiful and well worth looking at."
The girls put down their work and went to the doors to look out, or rather up, at the deep blue sky, covered with patches of downy white.