94 THE MAGAZINE OF HORTICULTURE. 



stalks of the faded asters are still erect, with their downy- 

 heads shaking in the breeze which has already scattered their 

 seeds upon the ground : and the more conspicuous tufts of 

 the golden rods are seen in nodding and irregular rows under 

 the fences, or bending over the ice that covers the meadows 

 where they grew. All these are but the faded garlands of 

 nature, that pleasantly remind us of the past festivities of sum- 

 mer, of cheerful toil, or studious recreation. 



Nature never entirely conceals the beauties of the field and 

 wood save when, for their protection, she covers them with 

 snow. The faded remnants of last summer's vegetation may 

 have but little positive beauty ; but to the mind of the natur- 

 alist they are attractive on account of the lessons they afford 

 and the sentiments they awaken. But there are objects in 

 the wood which are neither faded nor leafless ; and many 

 that are leafless still retain their beauty and the appearance of 

 life. Besides the evergreens, many of the herbs that bear 

 the early spring flowers still retain their freshness, and spread 

 out their green leaves in the protected nook or in the recesses 

 of the fern-covered rocks. The leaves of the wild straw- 

 berry and the cinquefoil are always green in the meadow, and 

 those of the violet on the sheltered slope of the hill. The 

 croAvsfoot and the geranium are in many places as fresh as in 

 May ; and the aquatic ranunculus and the Avild-cresses are 

 brightly glowing with their emerald foliage, in the depths of 

 the crystal water-courses that remain unfrozen beneath the 

 wooded precipice, or in the mossy ravines of the forest. 



These phenomena are doubly interesting as evidences of 

 the continued life of the beautiful things they represent, and 

 of the invisible and ever watchful providence of nature. 

 Every step we take brings under our review other similar 

 curiosities of vegetable life, which, by reason of their com- 

 monness, often escape our observation. On the sandy plain 

 the slender birch trees are loaded with thousands of purple, 

 aments, suspended from their flexile twigs, all ready to burst 

 into bloom at the very first breath of spring. In the wet 

 lands, where the surface is one continued sheet of ice, the 

 crowded alder bushes are so full of these embryo blossoms^ 



