124 THE JOY OF GARDENS 



patch. The wild cherry hangs its shining fruit overhead. 

 In a shady place about the roots creeps the wild straw- 

 berry; a rod away is a plum hung with ripened fruit, 

 and here and there and everywhere the brambles of the 

 wild rose embrace those of the raspberry, the blackberry, 

 and the gooseberry. The perfume of sweetbrier fills the 

 air. 



The rose tribe is not one to forget its poor relations. 

 Indeed, it is a hard struggle to find the poor relations, if 

 any at all exist. The rose family seems to have been 

 endowed with the peculiar virtue of looking out for itself 

 and its progeny, and borrowing aid from all creation, 

 while still retaining the affection of all. What rarer 

 virtue could any climber in the scale of life pray for? 



The lowliest kinsmen of the tribe, the cinquefoil and 

 yellow-blossomed weeds, with hard, roselike, seeded fruit, 

 are established in little colonies on the turf. Next higher 

 in the scale above these is the strawberry, its rose-petaled 

 blossoms proclaiming its place on the family tree. But 

 how marvelously has it looked after the future, dressing 

 its dainty seeds upon a luscious pulp to tempt the appetite 

 of the most jaded robin or surfeited catbird! 



In the clover field, on the hilltop, the bees are bu:-y 

 transferring the pollen ' while collecting their bags of 

 honey. And down in the berry patch the birds dt 'Meir 

 share of work, in planting seeds under the wage of a 

 square meal. All is harmony in this exchange of favors. 



