124 FLOIVERING SHRUBS. 



from her hiding place and stood upon the log and looked about her, 

 and was fortunately discovered by one of the searchers whom she knew 

 by sight — and then what a cry of joy arose, such as those wild plains 

 had never echoed before, " The Child ! The Child ! "—it reached the 

 father's ears, though distant far from the spot, and he scarcely believed 

 yet, for joy, till she was placed warm and breathing in his arms. The 

 crowd instinctively drew back for a space and left the father and child 

 clasped in each other's arms. Many a manly cheek was wet that day 

 when they saw the childish face, thin and wan as it \va^, nestling in the 

 father's arms, her thin browned hands clasped about his neck as if no 

 power on earth should part them again. 



Surely the father might have cried out in the fulness of his heart 

 " Rejoice with me, my friends, for this my lamb was lost and is found !" 



Years have passed away, and little Jane has long been a wife and 

 happy mother, and no doubt has often told her children the tale of her 

 being lost on the Rice Lake Plains, and pointed them to the gracious 

 Father in Heaven, who kept her under the shadow of His wing during 

 those days of danger, fear, and famine. 



The plains are now cultivated in every direction; the Huckleberries 

 are fast disappearing and will have to be sought for elsewhere. 



Frost Grape — Vitis cordifolia, (Mx.) 



Those deep, embowering masses of foliage : those verdant draperies 

 that fall in such graceful, leafy curtains from branch to branch, roofing 

 the dark shady recesses of nur wooded lakes and river banks : those 

 light feathery-clustered blossoms that hover like a misty cloud above 

 the leafy mass, giving out a tender perfume as the breeze passes over 

 them — like sweet Mignonette — those are our native vines, our Wild 

 Grapes. 



Yon tall dead tree, that stands above the river's brink, is wreathed 

 with a dense mantle of foliage not its own. The changing hues of the 

 leaves, the deep purplish clusters of fruit, now partially seen, now 

 hidden from the view, have given a life and beauty to that dead 

 unsightly tree. 



The ambitious parasite has climbed unchecked to the very top- 

 most branch, and now flings down its luxuriant arms, vainly endeavouring 

 to clasp some distant bough ; but no, the distance is beyond its reach, 

 and it must once more bend earthward or in lieu of better support, 

 entwine its flexile tendrils in a tangled network of twisted sprays, 

 leaf-stalks, and embowering leaves and fruit. 



• The fruit of the Frost-grape — our Northern grape-vine — is small. 

 The berries, round blue or black with little or no bloom, very acid, but 



