sense of home." I never miss my chat with the void 

 "Morning Glories." What gay gossips they are! ! 

 How they peer up and down as if eager for news ! 

 But they are never unkind in their gossip, and 

 always have a word of cheer for the day. 



Maeterlinck speaks of the "loud laughter" 

 of the Phlox, and do we not hear its gay note 

 these summer days? 



A recent writer calls the Scarlet Sage a 

 "flaunting braggart." I cannot think it. To 

 me it says, "I bravely wear the color given me 

 by the Hand that fashioned me, and I love to 

 bloom, for I am sent to lend brightness to the 

 world"; and when I give it a proper setting 

 among the green things of the border with 

 some sweet white things near by, its bright- 

 ness lightens all about it. It is doing there just 

 what I would have my sons do take their 

 place where God calls them and bravely wear 

 their colors in the face of all the world. If I 

 misplace my Scarlet Sage the fault is mine. 



I often find myself lingering where the Mig- 

 nonette grows. Why is it that this plain little 

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