212 FLOWERS AND FOLKS. 



much the blacker, by laying them liable to 

 the additional charge of hypocrisy. The 

 question is a nice one, and I gladly leave it 

 for subtler casuists than I to settle. 



How refreshing to turn from all these, 

 from the thistle and the bramble, yea, even 

 from the rose itself, to gentle spirits like the 

 violet and anemone, the arbutus and hepat- 

 ica! These wage no war. They are of the 

 original Society of Friends. Who will may 

 spoil them without hurt. Their defense is 

 with their Maker. I wonder whether any- 

 body ever thinks of such flowers as repre- 

 sentative of any order of grown people, or 

 whether to everybody else they are forever 

 children, as I find, on thinking of it, they 

 have always been to me. Lowly and trust- 

 ful, sweet and frail, "of such is the king- 

 dom of heaven." They pass away without 

 losing their innocence. Ere the first heats 

 of summer they are gone. 



Yet the autumn, too, has its delicate 

 blooms, though they are overshadowed and, 

 as it were, put out of countenance by the 

 coarser growths which must be said to char- 

 acterize the harvest season. Nothing that 

 May puts into her lap is more exquisite than 



