THE COUNTRY YARD 



weather promises overhead, and partly or wholly 

 closes when storms are brewing; at least, the 

 English peasantrv believe so. Goatsbeard and 

 marigold also fold together when it darkens, and 

 we have all seen the sleep of oxalis. Country- 

 men have observed that when the air is clear, 

 when tish dart about, when stagnant water smells, 

 when frogs look dull in color, when swallows fly 

 low, when cobs come out of their webs more 

 freely than in sunlight, then, flowers are apt to 

 shrink from bad weather, and it is time to make 

 things snug. These observations are not my 

 own. I have never seen timidity in flowers, but 

 only regular habits in some of them that incline 

 them to close against too fierce a light, or too 

 dead a darkness. Not only may it be possible 

 to study weather from our yard, but we may 

 know the time of day. At least, it was the dream 

 of Linne — absurdly Latinized as Linnaeus (for, 

 suppose we were to speak of our first martyr as 

 Lincolnius!) — to own a floral-lock. This uot- 

 anist, whose work is held in awe by all who have 

 tried to read it, and in admiration by those who 

 haven't, planned a bed of flowers such as had 

 regular times for opening and closing, so that 



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