CHAPTER XII. 
THE FALLING LEAF. 
*¢ Leaves have their time to fall, 
And flowers to wither at the north wind’s breath.” 
HEMANS. 
EVERY one admires the beauties of the flower, but 
how few properly appreciate the glories of the foliage! 
Only at two short periods of the year do we usually 
deign to give them a word of admiration. In spring 
we all seem to sing the praises of Nature, as we 
behold the delicate fresh green tints of the bursting 
leaf-buds and the tiny leaflets. With them come the 
harbingers of summer, the bright flowers of spring, 
led off by the pure white of the 
‘“¢ Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring, 
And pensive monitor of fleeting years!” 
followed by the ever-welcome 
‘¢ Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, 
The constellated flower that never sets,” 
as Shelley sings ; perhaps the most-valued flower of 
all that blow, for though it cheers us by its presence 
nearly all the year, we yet esteem its innocent beauty 
when we are surrounded by all the floral wealth of 
