THE WARBLING VIREO. 



Through saffron tints of twilight, 



Moves the young moon, remote. 

 Ah, listen! Wandering, sweet — 



The Vireo's tender note. 

 All that was dear in yesteryear, 



Or dreamed, or won, or missed. 

 The Vireo flutes at eventide — 



When Memory's keeping tryst. 



The summer flowers are fading, 



Dead leaves bestrew the ground. 

 Entranced past smile or tear. 



My face lifts to the sound. 

 All that was dear in yesteryear, 



Or dreamed, or won, or missed. 

 Wakes in that melting melody, 



Wlien Memory's keeping tryst! 



— Lulu Whedon Mitchell. 



AN AUNT JANE STORY. 



CURIOUS PLANTS.— PART IL 



''Besides these royal Orchids, what 

 other queer things are there in the his- 

 tory of flowers?" inquired AUce. 



''Luminous flowers are interesting to 

 me," was the reply. 



"You know some flowers have the 

 habit of emitting sparks or flashes dur- 

 ing twilight." 



"No, I have never heard of such a 

 thing. Where do they grow?" 



"Right here in this garden — the nas- 

 turtium, the sunflower, the yellow lily, 

 the tube rose, are all 'fire-plants,' throw- 

 ing off, under certain atmospheric con- 

 ditions, electric flashes." 



"Fire-plants," repeated Howard, a lit- 

 tle doubtfully. "Now, auntie, we are 

 often in the garden and we have never 

 seen these floral fire-works, not even on 

 the Fourth of July !" 



"That is not at all strange, Howard; 

 very few people are patient, careful ob- 

 servers ; but we must accept the testi- 

 mony of scientific ,men, who give their 

 time to the study of nature. I very 

 much doubt if ever you have listened to 

 the mysterious, httle vibrating sound 



which the Evening Primrose makes when 

 she unfurls her yellow tent." 



"The Primrose makes a noise?" ex- 

 claimed all the children in astonishment. 

 "Can flowers really be heard. Aunt 

 Jane?" Howard inquired, with a sur- 

 prised look. 



"Yes, the Aloe, or Century Plant, 

 whose fifty-foot flower-stalk grows six 

 inches in a day, can really be heard 

 growing. If you wish to test the mat- 

 ter go into a growing cornfield on a very 

 still night, and you can yourself hear the 

 ticking sound of the bursting sheath, as 

 the young blades grow, or, to-night, 

 listen while I water the artillery plant, 

 and see if the noise it makes warrants the 

 correctness of its name. Of course you 

 must not expect a report as loud as a 

 cannon would make." 



"Oh, no; FU be satisfied if I hear the 

 slightest sound." 



"Another curious feature of the Aloe 

 is this, that you can snap off the point 

 of one of its leaves, and have a needle, 

 and a thread clings to it, which may be 

 peeled off a yard long." 



126 



