Winter Meeting. 239 



In May and June there are the cinquefoil, moccasin flower, in 

 pink and yellow, widow's tears, wild azalias and rhododendrons, 

 not to mention scores of others to be had for the seeking. 



June and July will supply our vases with the fringed orchis, 

 golden rag\vort, several colors of the oxalis, wild lillies, blue flags, 

 arrow heads, primroses, geraniums, petunias and sweet williams, 

 all growing brightly in the Master's garden. 



July and August have an abundance of brilliant blossoms ; for 

 then the wild daisies begin to bloom, and the golden rod, of which 

 there are, according to Mathews, about seventy varieties. The 

 wild sunflowers bloom in these months, the rosin weed, and other 

 things which flaunt their brilliant yellow hues in the sunshine, 

 flinging back to the sun god their smiles of gladness, lifting up 

 shining faces in praise to the great Master in whose garden they 

 so bounteously grow. 



From August to November the forests and fields are all aflame 

 with beauty. Weary nature dons her most royal robes, and sinks 

 to her annual rest in colorings so gorgeous that no painter's hand 

 has yet even faintly delineated her glory. Crowned with blue, purple 

 and white wild asters, all the leaves radiant with rich color, surely 

 the MavSter has made these last months of the year the most beauti- 

 ful of all the seasons. 



There are between forty and fifty varieties of wild asters 

 growing in our country, and these flowers are fit to adorn the 

 dainty tea table of a queen, while the brilliant ox-eye daisies and 

 the golden rod might fitly grace the banqueting table of the most 

 august personage. 



I have mentioned only a few of the thousands of lovely wild 

 flowers, and have purposely omitted the many beautiful flowering 

 shrubs that adorn our fields and forests, for my essay must not be 

 too long, and I have yet to speak of other and better things that 

 flourish under the Master's fostering care. 



In the Master's garden 



Virtues grow, 

 Large minds, pure souls, 



And hearts that glow 

 With love and truth. 



His toilers seek 

 To know His way, 



To hear Him speak. 



Therefore, I crave permission to speak of the Master's garden 

 in a half -poetical way, for poetry, no matter how much it may be 

 ridiculed, is the highest conception of human thought. Mammon 

 is not a poet nor is he expected to understand poetry. The shine 



