I was tired and sat down under the shadow of the great pines in a Swedish forest, glad to find such a cool retreat from the broiling sun. I had not been there long before I noticed a fragrant odor and wondered what it could be and where it came from.
No Maréchal Niel rose grew on that barren soil, nor could the sun penetrate the shades of the forest to extract its perfume even if it had; I looked round, and found by my side a tiny flower about half the size of an ordinary daisy, nearly hidden from view by the moss. It was the little “Linéa Blomma.”
Oh, how fragrant it smelt! Again and again I held it near my face, enjoying the perfume, and then I looked up and thanked God for that tiny flower – so insignificant, growing in a wild, almost untrodden forest, yet bringing cheer and refreshment to me.
I thought, why is it so obscure, when it is a flower with such fragrance, and surely worthy of a place in the most stately grounds? I learned a lesson by it, and it spoke powerfully to my heart.