158 FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



number of visitors called. There were the butterflies, ele- 

 gantly attired; numberless bees in black and gold; a few dragon- 

 flies honoured the garden with their presence, but for a very 

 brief period ; they care little to mix with the busy world, but 

 love the quiet of home, amid rushes, reedmace, and water- 

 lilies of the river. And I think also the bees would rather 

 frolic amid the woodland blossoms, playing at hide-and-seek 

 among the fingers and thumbs of the purple foxgloves. Lark- 

 spur and white lilies may be very lovely, rhododendrons and 

 azaleas very aristocratic, syringa very bridal in appearance ; 

 but none of them so enchantingly beautiful as the foxgloves 

 in their elfin home among the ferns on the margin of the 

 woods. Around the yellow snapdragon the humble bees' 

 own flower the moths are gathering, craving in vain for a 

 sip of honey. The snapdragon is especially formed to be 

 fertilised only by humble-bees ; to all other insects its blos- 

 soms are closed, and it is joy to watch their lips part when 

 visited by the favoured bee. 



Night comes out above the garden with her lap full of 

 stars, which she lets fall upon the violet fields, collecting them 

 again before the dawn. What memories come to us at the 

 hour when " the musk of the rose is blown " ; thoughts both 

 sweet and sad throng as we stand on the hushed brink of 

 twilight in the land of eventide, while overhead 



" Fair stars that crown a happy day 

 Go in and out as if at merrie play." 



