Martinmas Summer 377 



gave large sums for cuttings from them, to plant in 

 their own gardens. The patriarch among these 

 beloved trees was the famous Glastonbury white- 

 thorn, which sprouted, so runs the story, from a 

 staff planted by Joseph of Arimathea. Its habit 

 of late-fall flowering gained for it a widespread and 

 holy reputation, which became its own undoing. 

 A Puritan soldier, moved by that strange spirit 

 which prompted the destruction of things because 

 other people thought them beautiful or held them 

 in reverence, cut it down as an " emblem of 

 popery." It was supposed to flower every Christ- 

 mas day. 



Leaves, like flowers, are sometimes " born out of 

 due time" under shining autumn skies. Among 

 the last of the old foliage, when the trees are 

 nearly stripped, sharp eyes may see, here and 

 there, a cluster of two or three leaves unfolding in 

 the tender green of spring. Horse-chestnut buds 

 are particularly apt to open thus unseasonably, and 

 elm buds are likewise prone to err. 



The October dandelions and November violets 

 make their ill-timed display on a stock of savings 

 which was intended for their use next spring. 

 Last spring, after the flowers faded and the pre- 

 cious seed was set, the plants turned their energies 



