FLOWERS AND FOLKS. 219 
each with its couple of swinging, fragrant 
bells. So it bids the world good-by till the 
long winter once more comes and goes. 
The same engaging habit is noticeable in 
the case of some of our very commonest 
plants. After the golden-rods and asters 
have had their day, late in October or well 
into November, when witch-hazel, yarrow, 
and clover are almost the only blossoms left 
us, you will stumble here and there upon 
a solitary dandelion reflecting the sun, or 
a violet giving back the color of the sky. 
And even so, you may find, once in a 
while, an old man in whom imaginative im- 
pulses have sprung up anew, now that all 
the prosaic activities of middle life are over. 
It is almost as if he were born again. The 
song of the April robin, the blossoming of 
the apple-tree, the splendors of sunset and 
sunrise, — these and things like them touch 
him to pleasure, as he now remembers they 
used to do years and yearsago. What means 
this strange revival of youth inage? Isita 
reminiscence merely, a final flickering of the 
candle, or is it rather a prophecy of life yet 
to come? Well, with the dandelion and the 
violet we know with reasonable certainty 
