THE EVENING PRIMROSE 

 BY DAYLIGHT 



Augiist nth 



AN we really claim to know 

 our evening primrose? Night 

 after night, for weeks, its pale 

 blooms have opened, and shed 

 abroad their sweet perfume 

 in the darkness in every glen 

 and by every road-side; and yet 

 how few of us have ever stopped to 

 witness that beautiful impatience of 

 the swelling bud, the eager bursting of 

 its bounds, and the magic unfolding of the 

 crinkly yellow petals? 



But it is not to the primrose of the twilight, nor the 

 opening bud nor fre-sh- perfumed flower, that I would 

 now invite attention. The sunset primrose we all know ; 

 it speaks for itself; but how few of us have the slightest 

 interest in those faded blooms of noon-day hanging like 

 a chime of bells on the drooping stems ! For twenty- 

 four hours they may be seen hanging there, and perhaps 

 for half that time who has guessed their pretty mystery? 



