FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 217 



seems at the beginning in good measure a 

 real part of herself, not a jarring note : prom 

 ising to become rapidly a true flower of the 

 landscape, and not a blot upon it, as I am 

 afraid that the majority of American houses 

 are. 



And speaking of flowers, I wish that you 

 could see the glory in lace and purple and 

 gold of my pasture, which I look down upon 

 between the unclothed ribs of the building. 

 Upon the upper portion, near the woods, a 

 great bed of the richly-hued ironweed ex- 

 ceecjs in beauty, I think, any that I ever 

 saw before, while mingled somewhat with 

 it and spread more fully over the body 

 of the field, the wild carrot lifts its stately 

 jewels, and the golden-rod is beginning to 

 hang out its graceful plumes. In the marsh 

 at the foot the intense green is beginning to 

 be sprinkled with the white flowers of the 

 sagittaria and the grass of Parnassus, while 

 the wild clematis twines gracefully over the 

 heaps of stones, and the rich clusters of the 

 elderberries hang nodding in the hedge 

 rows. The rose-hips are beginning to show 

 an orange tinge, and here and there over 

 the slope dark young cedars lift themselves 

 above the tall &quot; weeds &quot; and grass. 



On the other side of the house, the umlu- 



