DRIFTWOOD AND DREAMS 199 



dwarf white phlox which is through blooming about tube- 

 rose season. In the earlier summer the phlox make a 

 pretty green tangle above the tuberose plants, each giving 

 and taking amiably. 



The morning-glories from seeds that lay dormant until 

 late escaped notice while the phlox spread their stars, but 

 hardly had the tuberose spikes set to growing before the 

 morning-glory tendrils found them out and set forth to 

 climb. Round and round twined the ambitious vine, em- 

 bracing its host with such vigor that one day the tragedy 

 was discovered. The heads of tuberose buds hung 

 withered, choked to death by the vine which triumphantly 

 swung bells of crystal and crimson above the tombs of 

 those it had slain. 



There is a cherished waxen asclepias, as fragrant as the 

 tuberose, which catches the trunks of moths and butter- 

 flies and hangs them by the head when they come for nec- 

 tar and honey. Often on a summer morning the ground 

 beneath the plant is a battlefield strewn with the bodies 

 of wretched insects torn to pieces to escape the trap of the 

 asclepias. Should we uproot it and fling it to the winds? 



Now and then a field dodder reaches its white tendrils 

 through the fence or sets a foothold somewhere in the 

 shrubbery. This is a parasite of the first order in 

 crime. It throttles its victim, feeds on its life-blood, and 

 dresses gayly, affecting the thread-lace airs to conceal 

 its depravity. 



