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 inimitable tenderness, “Has something hurt thee, my poor Auli? Observe,” she proceeded, rising, and pointing to the cows, which never stopped to graze on one spot, but moved from place to place, cropping the freshest and tenderest herbage—“observe how cunning the cattle are: they know the different herbs as well as our Haller and Gessner, and your Wildenow.”

I looked at her in astonishment. “What,” I asked, “do you know about Haller and Gessner and Wildenow?”

“I know something about them,” replied she, with a smile. “Look you,” she continued, with an artlessness that might be termed the shadow to the light which she now unconsciously placed upon the bushel, and picking, as she spoke, a handful of flowers—“look you, if I did not know that this is Anemone alpina, this Dryas octopetala, and this Ranunculus nivalis, should I not have reason to be ashamed of my ignorance? Why should we not be as well acquainted with the plants and grasses of our pastures, as the girls of your country with those which grow in your fields? No sooner is the snow gone than they all shoot up here vigorously.—But come along a little higher. You have not there the blue-bell of the Alps, Soldanella Alpina, which flowers even upon the snow, and the Crocus vernus beneath it. These are fond of a cool situation; for when the snow melts, they