154 FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



crisp and full of life ; the peonies hang almost to the ground 

 their rain-filled blooms. But the sun will soon kiss their tears 

 away, bidding them gaze into his face. The last of the lilac 

 was washed away in the heavy downpour ; the iris stands 

 royally in purple array ; the flower-flames of poppies, rhodo- 

 dendrons, and azaleas leap from out the green of garden 

 pathway and lawn-side. To my mind, amid all the bright 

 array of June gardens, there is one tree, the guelder rose, that 

 stands out the most beautiful of all, calling in a less conceited 

 way for admiration. So pure, so fragile-looking are its 

 globular flowers, each hanging from the branches by a delicate 

 thread, like a child's Christmas-tree hung with snowballs for 

 toys ! Over the many-coloured blooms flutter the butterflies 

 those " blossoms of the air " ; over all is heard the cheery 

 twitter of the swallow. As I walk in this garden, in fancy I 

 trace these words in thrift-flower letters : " Our moments of 

 leisure should not be given up wholly to idleness, nor should 

 we try how we can kill time, but rather how we may use the 

 hours to their best advantage. Life is so short, there are so 

 many beautiful things to consider, so much that is lovely to 

 scan, so numerous the things to gather and treasure from good 

 books. The chances of lost hours are never re-offered. Be 

 thrifty with the hours ! " So speak the purple blossoms. The 

 little thrift will soon, too soon, have spent its beauty, whose 

 fading tells of flying summer and shortening days ! 



