1be^Gerow0 an^ IbUlocfte 



and well he sang, of a man and arms, of heroes, kings and ) 

 gods, but in the end needs must that he should sing of nature 

 in her piuity, her simpHcity and her bounty, and tell his i 

 Maecenas, ^"^^i^ 



.-0^ 



" What makes a plenteous harvest, when to turn 

 The fruitful soil, and when to sow the com; 

 The care of sheep, of oxen, and of kine; 

 And how to raise on elms the teeming vine; 

 The birth and genius of the frugal bee, 

 I sing Maecenas, and I sing to thee." 



But we have wandered far afield. Angelus has rung, the 

 slopes are silent and night comes on when no man can work, 

 and we must "make the most of time, it flies away so fast, 

 yet method will teach us to win time." We will trudge 

 homeward over the hills and far away to our garden where 

 some of oiu- flower friends love best to grow. How often do 

 you suppose the poor things would choose for a home the 

 places to which they are so ruthlessly transplanted? Talmud 

 says, "There is a certain spot appointed for every man where 

 he is to die and he can die there only." Fatalistic doctrine, \\ 

 but perhaps not entirely untrue either of Hfe or death, of man 

 or of flower. Can we not imagine a sort of heaven where a 

 golden rule is enforced for flowers and animals as well as for 

 man? WHhy not consult them once in a while, they who so 

 richly repay every loving thought or attention. 



I perfectly knew it would be just so. Here is the whole 

 day gone, — Phoebus fled and Luna getting ready to peep 



