AT PEEP OF DAY 



fountain, as if in rebuke for such a barbaric dis- 

 play of color, the delicately tinted flower-de- 

 luce lifts its stately head. But stationed midway 

 (as if to keep the peace) are graceful spireas in 

 feathery bloom and companies of peonies, some 

 bursting into blossom, others displaying only buds 

 among their rich leaf masses. 



From the shelter of their cool, protecting, 

 shrine-like leaves, the spotless lilies-of-the-valley 

 rise, as if for prayerful meditation ; but just be- 

 yond their precincts I see an array of dear, mis- 

 chievous, roguish little faces; the winning, af- 

 fectionate johnny- jump-ups or ladies' delights. 

 These are flowers upon which I never again can 

 look without a sympathetic thought of the touch- 

 ing mention made of them by the author of 

 " Old-Time Gardens." She says: " Ladies' de- 

 lights and ambrosia tell us, without words, of 

 their love for us and longing to be by our side; 

 just as plainly as a child silently tells of his 

 love and dependence on us by taking our hand 

 as we walk side by side. There is not another 

 gesture of childhood, not an affectionate word 

 which ever touched my heart as did that trust- 

 ful holding of the hand. One of my children 

 throughout his brief life never walked by my 



