158 A WHITE-PAPER GARDEN 



domains, but there is almost always a mis- 

 tress, who has lived long enough to have 

 much treasure laid up in that sweet and sacred 

 place, wherever it may be, where good pasts 

 are kept safe until "the day of the restitu- 

 tion of all things." Here are found those 

 humble livers in content who figure in no 

 nurseryman's list, but which are priceless in 

 their wealth of association heirlooms, as it 

 were, by which she tells her life-story, and if 

 she will but tell us whence they came we may 

 make a bede-roll of the friends she has loved 

 and the places she has visited. It is she 

 whom we see in the railway cars and on the 

 decks of summer-faring steamboats with her 

 basket of plants, and her little sheaf of slips. 

 We smile, but why ? Every slip will grow, 

 because it knows she loves them, and every 

 root will make haste to duplicate itself that 

 she may enjoy the privilege of giving. So 

 she passes through life and out of it, and 

 long, long afterward her name is kept dear 

 in a way the old hymn-writer did not dream 

 of when he said 



" The sweet remembrance of the just 

 Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust." 



