134 BIRD-LAND ECHOES. 



cate shades of pink and purple lined the lichen- 

 covered fence, that was almost concealed by the stout 

 stalks of these showy plants. And how natural was 

 the remark of Aunt Peggy, "They ain't as pretty as 

 last summer ; somehow the season wasn't quite right" ! 

 Did the man or woman ever live who was quite con- 

 tented with what is ? How flowers could be brighter 

 I cannot imagine ; and how the trim gardens of these 

 later days pale in comparison ! 



It should be remembered, too, that many of our 

 native wild flowers can be transplanted without in- 

 jury, and will flourish even better in gardens than in 

 fields or meadows, where the struggle for existence 

 is always fierce. Our native plants, like our native 

 birds, are not sufficiently well known. In this matter 

 our grandfathers were wiser than we. They had a 

 loving regard for many a wild growth and garden 

 flower almost unknown to us. The birds, too, ob- 

 served less distinction between town and country. 

 The mere fact that houses occur here and there does 

 not frighten a bird, if about these houses are the 

 trees and bushes it loves. As I stood looking with 

 admiration at the display in this unpretending spot, 

 I heard a loud lisping, and, turning my head, I saw 

 a dozen cedar-birds in the cherry-tree. "I thought 

 they would take 'em all," said Aunt Peggy, "when 

 they came about June, but they left me plenty," 

 and the old woman smiled as she thought of the 

 pleasant ending to her fears. 



"This they always do, in spite of what Farmer 

 Greedy says," I replied ; but here the conversation 



