VI. 



A CINDERELLA AMONG FLOWERS. 



Like torches lit for carnival, 

 The fiery lilies straight and tall 

 Burn where the deepest shadow is ; 

 Still dance the columbines cliff-hung, 

 And like a broidered veil outflung 

 The many-blossomed clematis. 



SUSAN COOLIDGE. 



A ROUGH, scraggy plant, with unattractive, 

 dark-green foliage and a profusion of buds 

 standing out at all angles, is, in July, almost the 

 only growing thing to be seen on the barren- 

 looking mesa around Colorado Springs. Any- 

 thing more unpromising can hardly be ima- 

 gined ; the coarsest thistle is a beauty beside it ; 

 the common burdock has a grace of growth far 

 beyond it ; the meanest weed shows a color 

 which puts it to shame. Yet if the curious trav- 

 eler pass that way again, late in the afternoon, 

 he shall find that " Solomon in all his glory was 

 not arrayed like one of these." He will see the 

 bush transfigured ; its angular form hidden under 

 a mass of many pointed stars of snowy white- 



