FLOWERS AND FOLKS. 229 
of the roadside. Yet its blossoms have only 
to be looked at and smelled of to make their 
way, homely as is the stalk that produces 
them. They love darkness rather than 
light, but it certainly is not “because their 
deeds are evil.”” One might as well cast 
the opprobrious text in the face of the moon 
and stars. Now and then some enterprising 
journalist, for want of better employment, 
investigates anew the habits of literary work- 
ers; and it invariably transpires that some 
ean do their best only by daylight, while 
the minds of others seem to be good for 
nothing till the sun goes down; and the 
wise reader, who reads not so much to gain 
information as to see whether the writer 
tells the truth, shakes his head, and says, 
“Oh, it is all in use.” Of course it is all 
in use, just. as it is with whippoorwills and 
the morning-glory. 
The mention of the evening primrose calls 
for the further remark that plants, not less 
than ourselves, have a trick of combining 
opposite qualities, —a coarse-gramed and 
scragey habit, for instance, with blossoms 
of exquisite fragrance and. beauty. The 
most gorgeous flowers sometimes exhale an 
