ps We FLOWERS AND FOLKS. 
What a contrast between such lowly- 
minded, unobtrusive beauties and egotists 
like our multitudinous asters and golden- 
rods! These, between them, almost take 
possession of the world for the two or three 
months of their reign. They are handsome, 
and they know it. What is beauty for, if 
not to be admired? They mass their tiny 
blossoms first into solid heads, then into 
panicles and racemes, and have no idea of 
hiding their constellated brightness under a 
bushel. “Let your light shine!” is the 
word they go on. How eagerly they crowd 
along the roadside, till the casual passer-by 
can see scarce anything else! If he does 
not see them, it is not their fault. 
For myself, I am far from wishing them 
at all less numerous, or a jot less forward 
in displaying their charms. Let there be 
variety, I say. Because I speak well of the 
violet for its humility, I see no reason why 
I should quarrel with the aster for loving 
to make a show. Herein, too, plants are 
like men. An indisposition toward pub- 
licity is amiable in those to whom it is nat- 
ural; but I am not clear that bashfulness is 
the only commendable quality. Let plants 
