haling the very breath of slumber from their 

 deeply hidden hearts. Years ago a chance 

 seed lodged in the root of a huge stump. It 

 grew up, blossomed, and bore seed after its 

 kind. It fell on good ground and safe, and 

 now the mouldering wood is each summer a 

 mound of white blossoms. A little later the 

 gatherer of simples will come and cut pop- 

 py-heads to dry and mix through her hop 

 pillows, that are the sov'reignest thing on 

 earth for wakeful souls. If she leaves but 

 one there will still be a plentiful sowing for 

 next year's flowers. 



In number as the sands of the sea, in dif- 

 ference as the stars of the sky, the aster 

 spreads her milky-way of blossom over field 

 and wood and highway and hedge -row. 

 Here a tall clump waves its rims of purple 

 and hearts of gold defiantly above your 

 head ; there a thousand small white sprays 

 cover the earth at your feet. Between, each 

 note of color, each gradation of size. If one 

 star differeth from another in glory, how 

 much more one star-flower ! Small or great, 

 they bloom and bourgeon, and in large part 

 make up the glory of " the happy autumn 

 fields " gorgeous autumn, whose harbinger 

 and sign -manual is burned in yellow and 

 red on this green late-summer world. See 



