FLO WEES 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 years ago. What means 

 this strange revival of youth in age ? Is it a 

 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 



