In all th' sisterhood o' flowers ther's no bloom quite so graceful an' stately an' beautiful as th' lowely hollyhock. Modest, retirin', unassumin', yit militant, hardy an' self-reliant, it thrives an' blossoms forth in th' hard, barren door yards o' th' humble, on th' dumps, an' sometimes along th' back fences o' th' rich an' snobbish, if it has good luck an' reaches maturity before it's whacked down. Th' hollyhock is a native o' India an' southern Europe an' prob'ly it wuz brought t' America on th' Mayflower t' adorn th' gardens o' some o' th' sturdy Puritans, an' surely no flower wuz better qualified t' brave th' perils o' a new country. Ther's been little printed about th' hollyhock. Poets have allus kept off o' it, an' prose writers rarely condescend t' mention it. We often encounter th' hollyhock along a lonely country road where it marks th' site where early pioneers once reared ther young. Year after year it blooms in th' same spot where it was planted by th' tired hands o' some gentle wife. If we investigate maybe we'll find an ole well or some rudely fashioned chimney stones near by hidden by th' undergrowth. But th' hollyhocks rise majestically above th' weeds an' briars an' proclaim t' the' passerby that here on this lonely spot th' prattle o' children, th' rattle o' pans an' th' clarion notes o' th' rooster, once echoed through th' wilderness. Maybe th' plowman that skirts th' fence corner wonders how th' durned things got ther. Perhaps th' fact that th' hollyhock throws forth no fragrance accounts fer its unpopularity among th' high brows, but how about th' other garden flowers, th' marigolds, that are cultivated an' bugged an' watered an' coddled? They smell fierce. We love th' hollyhock. We admire its independance an' its friendliness an' its disposition t' make th' best o' things. We like th' way it steps in an' relieves th' ugly places with its beauty without expectin' anythin' in return. We love th' hollyhock because it keeps away from its stuck up relatives an' seems t' prefer th' door yards o' th' poor an' unorganized. No other plants makes as big a showin', or shows as little resentment when grubbed out. No plant bows as gracefully t' th' inevitable as th' hollyhock. It's been kicked about until it's glad t' light any place, an' moreover, it allus puts on its whole show whether ther's anybuddy aroudn t' admire it or not.