Ill 



ward the bravery of their brown velvet hearts, 

 enrayed with hue so dazzling it outvies the 

 summer sun. Until frost falls they are fade- 

 less ; scentless, too. What wonder that no 

 hand cares to pluck ! Of a verity, sweet- 

 ness is sometimes better than light, especi- 

 ally if you happen to be born a flower. 



Or even a fruit. Here, in the orchard, 

 harvest-apples hang palely golden amid the 

 clustering leaves. Fair to see, indeed, but 

 not for a minute comparable with the mel- 

 low, pinkish-streaked Junes. Who eateth of 

 them shall not find 



" Dead Sea fruit, that tempts the eye, 

 But turns to ashes on the lip." 



<> (Tfe 



Walk but a little farther, though, and ap- 

 ples shall not tempt you, howsoever much 

 of Eve our mother there may be in your soul. 

 At the farther edge you come on peach- 

 trees bent to earth with a rich burden. Big, 

 downy ovals, pink and white or yellow and 

 crimson, and fairly bursting with sweet juice. 

 Pluck one from a topmost bough, one that 

 the sun has but just warmed on one side, 

 while the other is yet cool and dew-wet ; 

 eat it upon the instant ; then say if you 

 would change for nectar and ambrosia, 

 though served by Hebe's self. Whoso nev- 



