My Boyhood and Youth 



grass became dry. If from any cause, such as 

 early snowstorms or late rains, they happened 

 to escape the autumn fire besom, they were 

 likely to be burned in the spring after the snow 

 melted. But whether burned in the spring or 

 fall, ashes and bits of charred twigs and grass 

 stems made the whole country look dismal. 

 Then, before a single grass-blade had sprouted, 

 a hopeful multitude of large hairy, silky buds 

 about as thick as one's thumb came to light, 

 pushing up through the black and gray ashes 

 and cinders, and before these buds were fairly 

 free from the ground they opened wide and dis- 

 played purple blossoms about two inches in 

 diameter, giving beauty for ashes in glorious 

 abundance. Instead of remaining in the 

 ground waiting for warm weather and com- 

 panions, this admirable plant seemed to be in 

 haste to rise and cheer the desolate landscape. 

 Then at its leisure, after other plants had come 

 to its help, it spread its leaves and grew up to a 

 height of about two or three feet. The spread- 

 ing leaves formed a whorl on the ground, and 

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