PS 1558 
 .D15 P3 
 Copy 1 
 
 Pasque-flowers 
 
 FROM 
 
 Pike's Peak 
 
 A STORY 
 
 BY 
 
 SUSAN T. DU NBA 
 
 BOSTON 
 LEE AND SHEPAKD PUBLISHERS 
 
 1SS5 
 
<5'^ ■ 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 
 iSSs, 
 
 BY SUSAN T. DUNBAR. 
 
 PRESS OF I-ANNING I'KINTING CO., 
 NEWTON UPl'ER FALLS, MASS. 
 

 Easter, iS8j. 
 
 Searching my books to-day there fluttered trom the leaves 
 of one a pressed flower still delicately beautitul. It Avas the 
 anemone ox pasque-Jioiver of Pike's Peak, and, when it came 
 to me some years ago, just in the Easter season, from its 
 far Western home, it was fresh with life and beauty. On the 
 Easter-tide of this New Year goes forth its simple life story, 
 an earnest of the season's promise. 
 
PASOUE - FLOWERS. 
 
 NE early March morning a little bunch 
 of gray fuzz nestled among the dead, dry 
 leaves of last year's anemones. It felt a 
 little lonesome for there wasn't another 
 l)unch of gray fuzz to be seen ; but this was a partic- 
 ularly brave little Colorado anemone, and was dressed 
 up warm in her chinchilla furs which she kept close 
 around her, and drew up over her head. The anem- 
 ones always come out early in Colorado, but Spring 
 was late herself this year and none of Anemone's sisters 
 had been willing to leave home with her quite so soon. 
 It was well that she was early for a long journey to 
 Massachusetts was before her, and a mission was hers 
 to perform, though of these things she did not know^ 
 No w^onder she was lonely, for there she w^as all by 
 
6 PAS(;iLTE-FLOWERS. 
 
 herself on the north slope of a foothill, where the sun 
 did not come, and with not even a spear of green grass 
 to keep her company ; everything was brown and 
 dead, vShc had almost w^ished she had not come, 
 when a little bird flew down singfino: a w^elcome to 
 her. Oh, how glad she was to hear the song; and 
 she felt so happy that her heart began to swell and she 
 had to push her fur bonnet oft' a little way just for 
 breathing room. Now the birds and the flowers al- 
 ways remember each other, and these two talked 
 together in their own language telling how happy 
 they were to see each other again. 
 
 "Am I the first flower out, did you say. Little Bird ?" 
 asked the anemone. But before the bird could answer 
 her, a little breeze came hurrying by and said : 
 
 •'Oh, no indeed! but we are glad you are here. 
 You are the first anemone. I met the Townsendias, 
 dear little Peeps-o'-Spring /call them, on the Twenty- 
 second of February, up in the Garden of the Gods, 
 cuddled up against some rocks." 
 
 "Was it nice and warm there, Little Breeze?" 
 asked Anemone. 
 
 "Yes indeed ! the sun was pouring such a quantity 
 f)f heat all around them that I was warmed clear 
 
PASqLTE-FLOWERS. 7 
 
 through before I got near enough to kiss them," said 
 the breeze. " But I must hurr}- on now, good-bv," 
 and oft' he went and the Httle bird with him. 
 
 " The Townsendias always get the warm phices," 
 and the anemone ahiiost pouted as she talked to her- 
 self. " But then, I don't know why they shouldn't 
 when they come so early, and they have no fur cloaks 
 like ours to keep them ^varm," and Anemone nestled 
 down into hers. '^ Peeps-o'-Spring, Little Breeze 
 said. That's a real pretty name, much better than 
 Townsendia, I think, and when my sisters come I'm 
 going to tell them the new name, and they must call 
 those little blossoms bv it." 
 
 Just then Anemone peered out of her hood which 
 had come open when the bird came, and the first look 
 showed her, on the opposite slope, a cluster of Peeps- 
 o'-Spring between a rock and the bare roots of an old 
 pin on; 
 
 " No wonder the sun loves them," she thought. 
 " How white they are, like the snow that is up on 
 the mountains." 
 
 ••ril tell you what I think about it. Anemone," 
 said Little Breeze as he whisked up the slope ; ^^ I 
 think the snow doesn't like it verv well because it has 
 
S PASC^UE-FI.OWERS. 
 
 to take itself oil to tlie mountains and j^lains so often 
 throui^li the winter, instead of lying around quietly 
 down here and in town where the children are. I've 
 known any number of snow-flakes to pile themselves 
 up t()<i,-eLher in that same place, and a good many other 
 places like it, and manage to stay there all winter, 
 thinking tliev are out of the way and won't be found 
 out. But the sun always does find them, and every 
 day there are fewer and fewer of them till finallv 1 
 come and there isn't a flake to be seen. 
 
 '•One day I was lazy and didn't get round till late, 
 and I was astonished to see what I thought \vas a hand- 
 ful of snow-flakes up in that nook. Of course I went 
 right u]D there to find out the reason, and there were 
 those flowers and not snow-flakes at all ; I think thev 
 must be the spirit of the snow, or something else, I 
 don't know what. We whispered and w hispered to 
 ihem to tell me- l)ut the\ won't sa\- a word, and onh' 
 look at me with their yellow eyes ; they couldn't shake 
 their heads l^ecause they ha\ en't an\- stems, the\- grow 
 so close to tile ground. At night they fold their 
 white rays o\er their eyes, and if you will wacli 
 them to-night you will see that they are lipped 
 with pink on the under side. Thex are dear little 
 
PASGiLTE-FLOWERS. 9 
 
 things," and the breeze sighed itself across to diem. 
 
 Anxious to see all that was going on, Anemone 
 lifted her head and stretched up out of the dead leaves, 
 and found she had grown almost an inch. She found 
 the sky blue and cloudless, and troops of birds 
 and breezes went fluttering by, to all of whom she 
 nodded gaily. 
 
 "Mistress Spring is here surely now, and it is high 
 time my sisters came ; I must send them postals to 
 hurry out. It won't be long before the Mountain- 
 Lilies are here, and we must be ready to give them a 
 hearty welcome, they are so timid and so delicate 
 looking." 
 
 So to ever}' breeze that came, and to every bird that 
 flew low enough, she gave her messages. She told 
 the breezes that they must gather all the w armth from 
 the sun that they could possibly carry, and must spread 
 it thickly over the northern slopes, and in all the cool 
 places where the sun did not send its rays. She told 
 the birds to give her sisters just such a welcome as she 
 had had, and she charged the birds and breezes all to 
 do everything they could to make the Colorado hills 
 and plains beautiful. She sent numberless quick little 
 despatches down her own furry stem to the rootstock 
 
lO PASCiyE-Fr.OWERS. 
 
 uiuleii^iound, (this was ane?none patens you see) with 
 directions to send them on and on till all anemone 
 households in Colorado knew that it was time to be up 
 and doing. She sent them word that the breezes were 
 already at work <=^athering sunshine warmth for the 
 northern slopes, and the breezes, anemones ought to 
 know, are on these foot hills of Pike's Peak, as busy 
 as bees. When night came she had finished her letters 
 and messages, every one with the postscript: *' don't 
 forget your furs," and, knowing the answers would 
 begin to come in by morning, she wrapped herself up 
 snuglv in her soft gray cloak, while watching the sun 
 kissing her neighbors good night, and leaving pink 
 blushes on their white rays. 
 
 Sure enough, in the morning there were several 
 fuzzy heads all about our little friend, and cheerily 
 she greeted her sisters. They were not all dressed 
 in cliincliilla though ; there were seal brown furs, 
 and squirrel furs, and others nearly as white as 
 ermine ; and some had on green cloaks that looked 
 almost as if the anemones had forgotten the post- 
 script, and had l)rought their leaves with them 
 instead. But there wasn't any mistake ; there 
 couldn't l)e, l)ecause Colorado anemones never want 
 
PASqUE-FLOWERS. II 
 
 their leaves till they are about through blossoming. 
 
 When the\' had chattered and talked with each 
 other, and the birds and the breezes, about their 
 night's journey from home, about the messages the 
 rootstocks and the rootlets had sent to their friends 
 the air, the sunshine, the snow and the clouds, and 
 had made up their minds that the weather was 
 so warm they had better get out of their furs as 
 quickly as possible, Anemone shook her head wisely, 
 and said : 
 
 " Dear little sisters, don't be too hasty; you know 
 I have been here longer than you, and I assure you, 
 you will need your wraps for several days yet. These 
 sunny breezes won't be with us all the time, and when 
 they are not here we shall have to trust to our cloaks 
 to keep us w^arm." 
 
 Then she told them what the breeze had told her 
 about the snow and the Peeps-o'-Spring. " Last 
 night I had some company," she went on to say, 
 '' and wdiile you are resting from your journey I wall 
 tell you about it. 
 
 "I was very homesick yesterday morning after I 
 got here, and when I went to sleep last night I did 
 wish some of you were here w^th me. I think it must 
 
12 I'AS(^rE-FLOWEi;S. 
 
 have been ([iiitc laic when 1 heard somebody calling 
 ' Anemone, Anemone.' A m^Vi wind was shaking- 
 me ruilely, and wl^.en I opened my eyes a ray from a 
 sliooiinij^ slar ahnost ])linded me. Altogedier, I was 
 Startled, for I dioufj^ht none of you could have come so 
 quickly in answer to my message ; but when I had 
 taken down a corner of my cloak there stood, looking 
 up into mv face, all those little flowers that are up 
 there by that rock. 
 
 •••Dear Anemone,' they said, ^ we are very glad 
 to see \()u, and we would have come down to cheer 
 vou when you were lonely, but it is only in the night 
 that we can travel, so here, we are now. In the 
 morning troops of your sisters will be about you, and 
 \()u will be merrv together. We heard wdiat Little 
 Bird cold you. and he was onl}- partly right. We are 
 not the spirit of die snow any more than you are. 
 All [he Howers around here are the foster-chil(h"en of 
 die snow and the !^un. and the earth is their mother. 
 The snow has gone from here now, but it is up in the 
 mouiuains where it is hastening the coming of odier 
 flowers. Way up on Pike's Peak, 8,000 feet above 
 us, and over 14,000 feet above the flowers that grow 
 near the sea, it will nourish and shelter the tinv blue 
 
PASqiLTE-FLOWERS. I3 
 
 For-get-me-nots and Summer Beauties that are going 
 to blossom up there in August. We think that Little 
 Breeze was jealous ; he*s a good little fellow, but in- 
 clined to be airy and fitful. The snows always gave 
 him a cool greeting because he likes to plague the 
 Hakes, and scatter them about when they are looking 
 for a good place to rest. But no matter about him, 
 we all know him and understand him. 
 
 "'We early flowers have a special work to do. 
 Anemone ; since so many tired and sick people have 
 come to live in Colorado Springs and Manitou, these 
 homes of sunshine and pure air, we must be just as 
 beautiful and lovely as God will let us; we must let 
 them see that these brown plains and foot hills have 
 just as fair flowers as those that grow in the East : 
 and so we can cheer their loneliness and help them to 
 love their adopted home. We cannot come down 
 here again to see you. Anemone, but we can w^atch 
 you from our home near the rock. We shall soon be 
 through blossoming, and shall take our long sleep till 
 next spring comes. 'Tis nearly daybreak now, and 
 we must bid you good-by, and be home before the 
 sun lights up the summit of Pike's Peak.' 
 
 " They hadn't given me a chance to say a word, 
 
14 PASqi'E-FLOWERS. 
 
 and tliev were all talking together ; but I was looking 
 at them all the time, and I made a discovery about 
 them. I don't believe the birds or the breezes know 
 it !" Here Anemone paused to note the effect this 
 announcement would have upon her sisters who were 
 listening intentlv. 
 
 " Go on, go on, dear sister, and tell us what.vou 
 saw. Please hurrv, we want to hear so much," said 
 all the anemones together, and there was a thrill of 
 anxious expectation in their tiny voices. 
 
 While Anemone had been talking a little bird had 
 been listening, and had stopped a little breeze that he 
 might listen too ; when Anemone said she did not 
 think the birds and breezes knew, thev were s:reath' 
 puzzled. 
 
 ''Tell us, tell us," twittered the bird, and the breeze 
 whistled -Oh yes, do!" 
 
 "Well," said Anemone, "I didn't know you tw^o 
 were listening here ; you are very impolite," and 
 Anemone and all her sisters flushed a faint purple 
 tint, they were so indignant. 
 
 '• Oh, how pretty, how pretty, you are!" sang the 
 l)ird, and the breeze played among them so pleasantly 
 that they couldn't help shaking ofl' their furs a little 
 
PASQLTE-FLOWERS. I5 
 
 to feel its freshness, and they all together urged their 
 sister to go on. 
 
 ''I always thought," began Anemone, "that Peeps- 
 o'-Spring had white petals, and that their yellow 
 centers were much like our stamens and pistils." 
 
 " So did w^e !" chorused her sisters. The little bird 
 hopped about as if he wanted to say something, and 
 the breeze seemed restless ; but Anemone hastened to 
 say, " They haven't, and that's my discovery." 
 
 " I knew it !" sang the bird. 
 
 "So did I!" piped the breeze. "Those centers 
 are clusters of wee bits of yellow blossoms, and each 
 tiny blossom has its ow^n mites of stamens and pistils, 
 just the same as all asters have and sunflowers too." 
 
 " Yes," said the bird, " but I'd like to know what 
 the white rays are for that look so much like petals ; 
 I couldn't find out." 
 
 "You go to bed so early. Bird, in that high home 
 of yours, that you have never seen them draw up 
 those white rays close about them when they go to 
 sleep. They keep the little- blossoms warm all night, 
 that's what they are for ;" and the breeze felt very 
 proud that he had been able to tell the bird something 
 so important. 
 
1 6 PASqL^E-FLOWERS. 
 
 Poor Anemone had felt quite cruslied to have the 
 story taken away from her so completely, but now she 
 brightened up \'er3' happily and said, before any one 
 sliould interrupt her : 
 
 ''I saw those wdiite rays used for something else 
 last night. When the flowers were ready to go home, 
 each yellow cluster clasped hands just as tight as it 
 could, and then the \\hite rays ti^oped up on their 
 points, and they went rolling down the hill like 
 wheels, and they went down so fast that they kept on 
 rolling up the opposite hill till they got to their own 
 little corner. They looked like the shooting stars up 
 in the sky." 
 
 Little Breeze was so provoked because Anemone 
 had scan \vhat he had not, that he started oft' without 
 a word, resolving that he wouldn't go to bed at all 
 that night till he had seen these wdieeling flowers too, 
 though he half believed that Anemone had dreamed 
 it, for he sometimes had queer dreams that really 
 seemed true. 
 
 Little Bird was expressing his delight to the anem- 
 ones in a gush of music, when the sun began to drop 
 behind Pike's Peak, and he knew he must fly to 
 his home which was in one of the holes in the Qvent 
 
PASQUE-FLOWERS. 1 7 
 
 rocks that form the gateway to the Garden of the 
 Gods. He sang all the way home, and then sang to 
 the other birds the story Anemone had told. 
 
 The next day the anemones found their fur cloaks 
 very necessary, for the provoked little breeze had 
 persuaded his brothers to keep out of the sun as much 
 as they could, so as to be very cool and chilly to the 
 anemones when blowing around their home. But 
 the birds came in flocks to cheer them, and the little 
 breezes, who are nearly ahvays good-natured, couldn't 
 keep up their pretended coldness very long, and soon 
 birds, breezes and flowers were happy together. 
 
 So day after day went by, and the an,emones grew 
 large and strong and tall, and the whole slope w^as 
 bright with their beautiful blossoms. There was 
 every shade of purple, from the darkest to the palest 
 lavender, and their fuzzy coats added a quaintness to 
 their beauty wdiich made them all the more attractive. 
 There were anemones of all sizes and ages, for they 
 had been coming out ever since the day the first one 
 came. There were the babies still bundled up. 
 Others had thrown back their cloaks so far that each 
 purple cup rested in a cup of fuzz. Older ones still 
 were growing out of theirs so completely that these 
 
1 8 PASC^rE-FI.OWEKS. 
 
 fuzzy cups were from a half incli to two inches back 
 on the stems, and the purple and la\ ender cups were 
 openings wide and showing their silver linin2,s. 
 Every blossom was almost filled with the <.>;olden 
 stamens and the silvery brush of pistils. Their cloaks 
 had not changed except to become more fuzzy, and 
 they would be kept about on the stems somewhere as 
 long" as the blossoms lasted. 
 
 They had, indeed, done as the Peeps-o'-Spring had 
 suggested : made this northern slope very beautiful : 
 and the\- knew that sisters (some of them every shade 
 of blue) were making other places just as lovely. 
 They knew that flowers slighted the northern slopes 
 usually till late in summer ; but, because of their 
 warm furs the anemones felt that they could easily 
 make these lonely places attractive. 
 
 The tallest anemones, six and eight inches high, 
 could see on the opposite slope (the south one) , that 
 a few Townsendias still lingered as if waiting to greet 
 the first Mountain-Lilies, whose pale green leaves 
 were just breaking through the ground ; they knew 
 that on the sunny plains and hill-sides, and even in 
 the hard streets of the town, these lily-leaves were 
 cracking the earth and reaching up into the light. 
 
PASQLTE-FLOWERS. 1 9 
 
 How did :hey know? The birds and the breezes 
 told diem and carried their greetings to and fro. And 
 of other things the birds and breezes told them. 
 
 AT OT many days after Anemone had welcomed her 
 ■•-' sisters, a party of boys went by this very slope, and 
 the sharp eyes of one of them espied our little friend : 
 she was quite tall compared with her sisters, and had 
 thrown back her furs enough to give glimpses of her 
 six purjDle sepals — anemones' sepals are so very 
 pretty that petals are not necessary — and she, with 
 some of her sisters, was soon on the way to the town 
 in this lad's hands. 
 
 ''The sick man shall have them," the boy said to 
 himself, and the anemones soon found themselves 
 transferred to the sick man's hands. 
 
 " Wild flowers, wild flowers," he murmured as he 
 buried his feverish cheeks in their cool softness ; and 
 Anemone felt a drop of moisture foil on her purple 
 cup. Her little heart ached for him, for she knew 
 that he was homesick, and she remembered how" she 
 had felt alone and away from her sisters. She wanted 
 very, very much to tell him she had come to cheer 
 him, but she trembled so she could not speak. 
 
20 PASC^UE-FLOWERS. 
 
 •• Ah I you bring the fresh, earthy smell that comes 
 with the first spring rains, little blossoms," said the 
 man at last, taking long, deep breaths of their fresh- 
 ness. '^ There, you are like yoiu- IMassachusetts 
 sisters, but I never should ha\e thought you anemones 
 by your looks," and the sick man fell to thinking ; 
 pleasant thoughts and pictures came to him, the 
 anemones knew by the light in his eves, and the 
 smiles that lingered about his lips. The anemones 
 smiled back to him, and brightened themselves with 
 full draughts of the water in which they had been 
 placed. When evening came Anemone tried hard to 
 keep her blossom-cup open, after the others had 
 closed ; but, tired too, sleep at last overcame her, and 
 she nodded with her sisters. 
 
 Strange doings the anemones saw next morning. 
 On the table near them lay half of a large raw potato. 
 Pillowed in his easy chair the sick man sat holding in 
 his thin w^hite hand the other half, and feebly scraping 
 out some of the pulp. After a little he took up Anem- 
 one and put her into the hollow he had made ; tlien 
 when he had prepared the other half in the same way, 
 two of Anemone's sisters were placed in this hollow 
 which was just large enough for them. 
 
PASQUE-FLOWERS. 21 
 
 Little Breeze had come into the window early that 
 morning, and with some of his brothers had been 
 playing abont among the flowers and books and 
 papers lying on the table ; he had brought loving- 
 messages from the sisters on the hill-side, and was 
 charged with many to take back. He was as much 
 interested in the doings of the sick man as the anem- 
 ones, and had quietly hidden himself in Anemone's 
 sepals, where they talked together sofdy while they 
 watched him. 
 
 "What does it all mean, Breeze.^" whispered 
 Anemone. 
 
 "I think it must be that he- is going to shut you 
 and your sisters up in the potato and send you 
 home," said Little Breeze. 
 
 " Send us home ! What good woidd it do to send 
 us back ? We should surely wither up and die on the 
 cold ground, and we wanted to do some good, and 
 cheer him as we did last night," grieved Anemone. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean to your home Anemone ; I 
 mean to /iz's home fiir in the East, nearly 2,500 miles 
 from here ; it's where the East Winds live too. You 
 will have a long journey of three days and four nights ; 
 but vou will have the moisture of your potato house 
 
22 PAS(^UE-FLO\VEKS. 
 
 to live upon ; it will be dark, I know, but you will 
 not mind that, ]")ecause you \\ill prol:>ablv sleep most of 
 the way, and when you get to the end of yoiu" journey 
 you will be all the brighter and fresher. 
 
 •• Did anemones ever travel so far before, and is it 
 perfectlv safe, dear Breeze?" She felt a little faint- 
 hearted to think of what was before her. 
 
 '' I never knew of flowers travelling so before, in a 
 potato ; but they must have, because I heard somebody 
 telling the sick man how to fix the potato for you. I 
 don't see why it should not be safe enough, for you 
 are going with the letter that the man is writing nows 
 and a great many letters are sent from here, and a 
 great many come here too ; I've read lots and lots of 
 them," and the breeze liegan to feel like stirring about 
 again. '"I'll go now and read the letter he has written, 
 and perhaps it will tell just where you arc going." 
 
 But the breeze was too late to see much ; the letter 
 was sealed and directed, and all he could make out 
 was Boston^ Alass. So back he and some of his 
 companions whisked and told Anemone ; said good- 
 by to her and her sisters, and sent their love to their 
 brothers in the East; wished them a pleasant journev, 
 and blew off outside the window which the man was 
 
PASQITE-FLOWERS. 23 
 
 shutting, because the breezes had become so frisky 
 that they were disturbing everything in the room thai: 
 they could move or rustle. Outside the window, 
 Litde Breeze waited to see the last of the anemones. 
 Then he blew out to the foothill and told the anem- 
 ones there what had happened, and that the sick man 
 had tied the two halves of the potato tightly together 
 with their sisters inside, and then tied the potato 
 in strong paper, and after w^riting something on it, 
 *•• the directions" he supposed, it had gone off with 
 the letter to the post office. 
 
 " Do you think the sick man was angry.?" asked an 
 anemone anxiously. 
 
 "Angry ! Well, I should say he was not,'' said the 
 breeze. " He w^as smiling and humming, and trying 
 to whistle like me all the time he was fixing the 
 anemones' trunk ; he couldn't whistle much though," 
 and thereupon the breeze began to whistle himself out 
 of breath to show wdiat a whistle should be. 
 
 Three days and four nights the anemones travelled ; 
 they were very much alarmed at times when their 
 potato trunk was taken up and tossed about, lest it 
 should be broken ; but it had been tied securely and 
 no harm came. At last, on the morning of the fourth 
 
24 PASC^UE-FLOWERS, 
 
 (lav, they knew they had reached their journey's end, 
 for the mighty rumbHng had ceased, and all was quiet 
 outside their dark prison. Gentle fingers were taking 
 away their covering, and suddenly they were in a 
 blaze of light it seemed to them after the long dark- 
 ness of their journey. 
 
 This was the way three Colorado anemones came 
 to the '' City of East Winds." They were bright and 
 fresh, and not one whit the worse for their trip. Lov- 
 ing hands received them, and many were the words of 
 welcome that they heard. Anemone found she had 
 grown quite out of her cloak, and her sisters had 
 grown also, but were not yet much more than opening 
 their cups. They were glad of the water in which 
 the}' were placed, but when they drank of it they 
 could not help thinking how much nicer was the last 
 which they had had to drink. 
 
 '' That water," said Anemone, " came pure and 
 fresh from the springs and melting snows on Pike's 
 Peak ; nothing could be purer than that." 
 
 '' How cold and cloudy it looks out of doors," said 
 one of her sisters. " It isn't much like our beautiful 
 sky, is it.?" 
 
 ''No," said the smallest sister, "but it's warm in 
 
PASQUE-FLOWERS. 25 
 
 this room ; we must not expect such clear bright days 
 as we have at iiome," and the Httle flower sighed very 
 softly for that far oft' home. 
 
 Just then there came a rattling at one of the win- 
 dows, and die anemones heard a whistling that 
 reminded them of their friends, the breezes. The sun 
 had covered his face completely with clouds, and a 
 company of breezes, shrill and sharp, came crowding 
 through a small opening in the window. The anem- 
 ones couldn't help shivering \\hen they rushed down 
 to them and shook them heartily, but not intending to 
 be rougfh ; it was their natural manner. 
 
 " Ha, ha! well, well I here you are I Glad to see 
 you, anemones all ; glad to see you in Boston," and 
 the breezes shook the anemones again, they were so 
 glad to see them. 
 
 " Heard two days ago you were coming," contiimed 
 the breezes. " ' Old Prob.' received a message from 
 Pike's Peak that you had started. When we were 
 whirling and tearing around the Signal Station 
 down town this morning, we blew down into the 
 Post Ofhce windows to make a little stir, and saw 
 your queer trunk come in ; its paper cover was 
 torn some. We followed the letter-carrier up here. 
 
26 PASqi'E-FI.OWERS. 
 
 and tried to get into his bag, but it was too tight." 
 " Yes," said another breeze, " and then we l:)lew 
 round the corner to have some fun with the school- 
 children, and when we got back we couldn't tell at 
 which door 3^ou had been left, so we've been flying 
 about the windows on this street ever since. We saw 
 you a fe^v minutes ago — lucky we found the crack in 
 the window, we were about out of breath." 
 
 " We are glad to hear from our brothers," said 
 another breeze more quietly. While the anemones 
 had given them the greetings brought from home, the 
 warmth in the room had subdued some of the breezes, 
 and the friskiest fellows had gone oft". " We hope our 
 western brothers will do what is expected of them 
 with the help of the sun ; you see we are rather 
 damp and rough here, particularly at this time of the 
 year, and a good many of our people need to go where 
 the air is dry ; so we recommended Colorado ; her air 
 is dry enough we should judge." 
 
 Somebody was closing the window, and the March 
 winds were shut out entirely. They had made the 
 room chilly, and the anemones nestled close together 
 thinking that the old friends were the best. They fell 
 to wondering how they should like the Massachusetts 
 
PASQUE-FLOWERS. 27 
 
 anemones if they should meet them, as they hoped 
 they should, when they heard the lady, who had been 
 so glad to see them, say somediing about Colorado 
 Springs ; and h'ing near them they recognized the 
 letter the sick man had written and sent with them on 
 their eastern journey. The lady was reading the 
 letter now, and listening, they heard this: "I send 
 to you my Easter greetings, these beautiful anemones : 
 they came to me like rays of hope in a very loneh" 
 hour, when despairing and discouraged ; I take the 
 promise of renewed health and strength that tliese 
 pasque-flowers bring to me ; truly they have been to 
 me, a prisoner here in Colorado, real ' Picciolas^' 
 and I bless them with all my heart." 
 
 The lady was crying softly as she kissed the 
 anemones, but they were happy tears. Although the 
 anemones did not exactly understand all that they had 
 heard, they comprehended enough to feel that they 
 had accomplished much good in their short stay with 
 the sick man. They had brought good cheer to him, 
 and to the lady, their new friend ; and they knew they 
 could repay her loving care best by doing all in their 
 power to live and to be beautiful, although they 
 missed their mother earth sadlv. 
 
28 PASqi'E-FLOWERS. 
 
 They knew that by-and-by their pretty purple cups 
 would fade and droop, and spill the golden pollen ; 
 that their tiny seeds would never mature, nor the 
 many seed-vessels ripen and form the beautiful feathery 
 clusters like the akenes of the clematis. They were 
 sorry that their friend could not see their sisters grow- 
 ing in loveliness on the hill-side home. They knew 
 just how pleasant that whole north slope of the foot- 
 hill was, and would still be when the blossoms w^ere 
 gone, for then the leaves would be out, and the plume- 
 like akenes would be as fair as many blossoms. 
 
 One day as they dreamed in the warmth of the 
 heai^th fire, for outside the March w inds still blustered, 
 and the clouds swept quickly across the face of the sun, 
 a few delicate blossoms, white and palest pink, with 
 fresh green leaves, were placed in the glass with them. 
 Somehow, Anemone, who w^as beginning to droop a 
 little, felt instantly that these were her sisters of the 
 woods, ane7nane nemorosa^ and she thrilled with 
 delight as she told her thoughts and lovingly greeted 
 the new comers. 
 
 •'Yes, we are your sisters, dear Windflowers of 
 the Plains," said a white anemone. " On our way 
 the March winds told us that ^ou had come, bringing- 
 
PASQUE-FLOWERS. 29 
 
 tidings of hope and jo}' from the sick man ; liow 
 happy it must make you. March winds said they had 
 not talked with you much, for they were rather cold 
 for you, although you had come in your fur cloaks. 
 They said that the March winds in your home were 
 w^armed by the bright sun on their way from Pike's 
 Peak, where thev are even colder than the March 
 winds here, but not so damp and chill. They told 
 the woods, when they bent and tossed the heads of the 
 tall pine trees, that you w^ere coming, and so we ha^■e 
 hurried ourselves, hoping we might see you ; it is 
 a little early for us to be out." Then the anemones 
 nestled together, and shared the' warmth of the furs as 
 well as they could ; thus closely companioned the>- 
 proceeded to tell to one another the family histories. 
 Day by day they dreamed the time away, with 
 loving reminiscences of their homes and their friends, 
 till it seemed to the western anemones as if they had 
 always know the Windflowers, and to the Windflowers 
 almost as if they had been to Colorado. And day b\- 
 day while they dreamed, they were also growing old. 
 and the oldest anemone felt very old indeed ; and one 
 evening when she fell asleep she knew she should 
 never lift her head again. But she was happy, she 
 
30 PASQUE-FLOWERS. 
 
 and her sisters too. They knew from the daily letters 
 that the sick man was growing stronger, and that he 
 was getting to love their dear home in the West which 
 would always now have to be his ; and they knew 
 that the ladv was going to Colorado soon. Many 
 times had she told them of the comfort they had 
 brought to her, and on this nisrht when Anemone was 
 dying, she took them all, the anemones of the plains 
 and of the woods, and placed them between the leaves 
 of her bible, where she said she could keep them 
 always, symbols to her of Faith and Hope and Love. 
 
 '• In all places, then, and in all seasons, 
 
 Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, 
 Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, 
 How akin they are to human things. 
 
 " And with childlike, credulous affection 
 We behold their tender buds expand ; 
 Emblems of our own great resurrection. 
 Emblems of the bright and better land." 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS \ N 
 
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