136 STIje ffiarHen's Storj. 



onward during August over stubbles gay with 

 vervains and willow-herb, and meadows fragrant 

 with trumpet-weed ; it files more slowly in Sep- 

 tember along streams flaming with cardinal-flow- 

 ers and lanes lighted by golden-rod ; until it halts 

 and breaks ranks in late October, crowned with 

 aster and everlasting, and strewed with painted 

 maple-leaves. Do we half appreciate these sum- 

 mer days ? We long for them in winter, and wish 

 the months were weeks, to bring them nearer to 

 us. Let us enjoy them when they come ; let us 

 get nearer to this joyous life of nature, and join 

 in the procession of the flowers. 



You would know by the scent of the lilacs 

 that summer was here. How fragrant the cen- 

 ser of June! how profuse with the scent of 

 blossoming vegetation ! odors not alone from 

 myriads of plants, but breathing from orchards, 

 hedges, and thickets, rising from woods and 

 hill-sides, blown from far meadows and pastures. 

 What an exhalation of millions of opening pet- 

 als, mingled with the scent of green growing 

 things ! It seems as if Nature could not do 

 enough when her appointed time arrives ; as if 

 there were no end to her prodigality of bloom 

 and song and color and sunshine : birds sing- 

 ing amid the orchard-blossoms, bees plunging 

 into the flower-cups, meadows smothered with 



