SHOOTING STAR. 



This pretty cluster of stately little flowers came from River 

 Side, and reminds me of lovely homes, orange groves, and 

 beautiful gardens of cultivated flowers. 



Of all the wild flowers I found here I thought the shooting 



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star the finest. It grows in a modest sort of way, n little bush 

 here and there, shooting straight up as if to hold its head above 

 its neighbors before uncovering the handsome face to the gaze of 

 its companions, and then blushes and looks down, never again 

 daring to raise its pretty face. One of the blossoms of this 

 pretty bunch I saw open. It was early morning, and when I 

 made my sketch a fine large bud was the first " laid on," and 

 when I had quickly sketched the others and was about to finish 

 the bud, I thought it moved. I looked closely and saw one of 

 the leaves slowly unfold, then another quietly spread out its 

 lavender loveliness, and soon the bud I had carefully sketched in 

 stood before me a full-blown flower. 



With this flower I associate one of the finest orange groves 

 it was my pleasure to visit while on the coast. I had finished 

 my work and was starting back to my hotel, when I met a little 

 boy a manly little fellow about four years old. He was walking 

 in the center of the road, and with each step a little cloud of dust 

 followed him. He seemed so interested in these little whirl- 

 winds he did not notice me until I spoke to him. 



" Where are you going, my little man ?" 



