U R C O U N T R Y HO M E 



of the buckthorn, the vivid green of the aralia and the thick-leaved 

 withe-rod, whose berries change from white to rose and deepen to 

 purple, while its leaves become vivid scarlet and orange. When I 

 say these are my favorites, the cut leaf and the staghorn sumacs 

 seem to wave their feathery fronds in gentle protest. I have no 

 sooner pacified the sumacs than the forsythias rustle and sway 

 their pendulous branches, exclaiming: "Ungrateful one, have 

 you forgotten our glory in the springtime, our sunshine when the 

 sky was gray, our cool greenness, the whole hot summer through ? 



1 must add too a word for my sister, the bridal wreath; surely your 

 memory is very poor if her lovely sprays have not remained en- 

 graved upon your very heart. Are you going to ignore the old- 

 fashioned lilacs, which now in different varieties bloom from May 

 to July ? Does the scent of your grandmother's mock-orange no 

 longer charm you ? And where on your list of treasures do you put 

 the exquisite soft deep rose of the winged-stemmed spindle-tree 

 and the white plumy seeds of the groundsel bush or the privet, 

 the full untrimmed, gracefully drooping, rich-flowering privet, 

 with its masses of blue clustered berries ? What has the barberry 

 done, your own, and its cousin from Japan, but flowered and ber- 

 ried and turned to scarlet and gold for your pleasure ? How about 

 the dogwoods and the roses ? " But here I cry, " Hold ! Enough ! M 

 It is true, I cannot discriminate, I love you all ! Even the choke- 

 berries and the brambles, the bush honeysuckle and the Indian 



currant with its graceful magenta sprays, but not its cousin the 



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