CHAPTER IV

MAY FLOWERS

Primroses and Violets

Do you know what a pentagon is? Probably not, so here is one to show you. It is a mathematical figure, with five sides and five angles all exactly equal, and all at the same distance from the centre, and very troublesome it is to draw one. But what has it to do with

flowers? It relates to them thus-that

it shows the beautiful regularity and de

sign which is perceptible through all the works of the great Creator.

Take a primrose, and compare it with the pentagon. Five gathered into one, or one divided into five; that, as you will soon perceive, is what may be called the principle upon which these, and many other of our prettiest flowers, are formed.

First, the primrose has a calyx all in one, a deep, close, hairy, green cup, with five divisions, and five points. This encloses a corolla,1 also all in one, consisting of a

1 Corolla, another name for the petals or coloured part of the flower.

single petal, which might be compared to a funnel, as it has a long narrow pipe or throat, fitting into the calyx below, and above spreading out into the five divisions which, at first sight, one would almost take for separate petals. What an exquisite colour they are, such as can only be called primrose colour, for it is so delicate that it is like no other yellow; and what a beautiful little mark of deeper yellow there is at the lower part of each, so as to make another little pentagon round the throat, corresponding with the cleft in the middle of each division of the corolla. How wonderful it is that it should be so perfectly regular, without being stiff or formal.

The end of the throat serves as a nectary; there is a sweet drop of juice at the bottom, as the little tiny black flies that creep in well know, and so do the sparrows, though I am not sure whether it is for the sake of the flies or of the honey that they are so apt to pick off the heads of the primroses, and leave the path strewed with them.

The more important parts of the flower are within the throat. The five stamens, which have very short filaments, raise their anthers like a crown just within, and in the midst is the pistil, with a round green germ, a tall slender style, and a stigma just like a pin's head.

The stalks are of a very pretty pale pink colour, and covered with down; the leaves all grow directly from the root, without leaf stalks. They have one principal large rib, like a backbone, down the middle, and a number of branches spreading on each side; and these again are connected with each other by lesser veins, which give the leaf a very curious crumpled appearance. Nothing is prettier than a fresh, bright bunch of primroses, the graceful bending stems appearing to repose upon the green

leaves; and no plant chooses prettier places for growing; on the side of a mossy bank, or niched into the rugged roots of some old tree. There sits the sweet pale primrose, seeming almost to smile out of its quiet retreat, and giving forth a delicious mild fragrance that seems just suitable to its soft, pure, delicate flower.

Prime rose means early rose, and in other languages its name has the same meaning. The French call it the prime vère, first of the spring, and its Latin name is Primula, which also means the first.

Primula is, in fact, the family name of the primrose and its numerous relations, the first English one of which is the oxlip. The oxlip's Latin name is Primula Elatior, one which I think suits it very well, as it seems like a conceited elated primrose, which had managed to perch itself up upon a second set of stalks, and had thereby grown hard and formal, without the delicate bending grace of the primrose; and it is curious to see how like, yet how much less pretty it is, than its quiet retiring sister. Indeed, botanists are not quite agreed whether the oxlip is really an aspiring variety of the primrose or a distinct species; that is to say, sort of flower.

The cowslip, which has a second set of stems by nature, is a much more modest flower; it muffles up its throat closely in its long large calyx, and hangs down its head so as to form one of the bells, which, according to a pretty German fancy, serve to ring in the spring.

"In the cowslip's bell I lie,"

says the fairy's song, and no fairy could look for a better lined palace, or a more sweetly perfumed one. The corolla is like soft yellow velvet, and in each division there is a beautiful red spot, as if to set off the rest.

The stamens and pistil scarcely vary from those of the primrose.

Cowslips can hardly be thought of without many a sunny remembrance of the broad green meadows where they may be gathered by handfuls, and the borders of coppices, where having a richer soil, they grow so much larger. Oh, the pleasure of finding a noble, great cowslip plant, with four or five stems, and perhaps one of them with as many as seventeen bells! Then there is sure to Perhaps it is for a

be an object in gathering cowslips. garland, perhaps for cowslip tea, though I suspect the chief niceness in that is, that it is an excuse for having the pleasure of making a mess, perhaps for cowslip wine, or, perhaps, best of all, for a cowslip ball.

Oh, the deliciously sweet, soft thing! Let southern children keep their citrons, while we can have our cowslip balls, as large, as yellow, as fragrant, much softer, and giving far more pleasure, both in making and the using. What can compare with the delights of a cowslip ball? And yet it may be a trial of temper too, as perhaps you may have found, when some little one may have nipped off her stalks too short, or, worse still, let go the string, so as to make all the cowslips fall down. If you do not keep your temper in such a case, even a cowslip ball may bring a painful remembrance with it, but I will hope better things of you, that so your balls may have as sweet an odour in remembrance as during their short life.

Neither primroses, cowslips, nor oxlips will grow in all the counties of England; and there is a fourth rare sort, of a purple colour, called the bird's-eye Primula, which only grows in the north.

Now we mention purple primroses, the common regular primrose may be made to turn to an unwholesome-looking

pale purple, by being planted in richer soil; the seeds of these empurpled primroses will grow up of a deeper, richer colour, sometimes purple, sometimes bright red, preserving the little yellow pentagon round the throat. Again, they may be doubled, and there are very pretty lilac double primroses, white ones too, and others which look as if they were cut out of crimson velvet, with little yellow spots.

The cowslip will turn scarlet on being cultivated; and by giving the pollen of the coloured primroses to the pistil of the cowslip, other varieties have been produced. That odd flower, like an oxlip with a frill on, is one; and another is that curious dweller in cottage gardens, called Jack-in-a-box, his box being no other than his calyx, very much enlarged, but a few traces of its origin still remaining in the green marks on the edges.

The polyanthus is another variety of the cowslip, and that to which most attention has been paid. Polyanthus fanciers have shows of them, and are very particular that the dark spots on the corolla should be quite regular, and that there should not be what they call a pin-eye; that is, that the pin-like head of the pistil should not appear above the throat. Other people may be quite contented with the bright yellow and brown polyanthus, or spring flower, as it is called, without caring for these fancied beauties.

There are many foreign sorts of Primula. They grow in great beauty on the Alps, on the borders of the snow; and many sorts have been brought to England. Auriculas, which name means bears' ears, have very curious powdery centres, and are of numerous colours-green, yellow, or purple.

The last to be mentioned is one which town children