the genus Erigeron. This name is in- 

 dicative of one of its characteristics. It 

 is from two Greek words meaning spring 

 and old man. Old man in the springs or 

 early old is an appropriate name, for the 

 young plants are quite hoary and this 

 hairiness remains throughout its life. 



The Blue Spring Daisy is not alone, 

 for it has about one hundred and thirty 

 sister species widely distributed through- 

 out the world, but they are more abun- 

 dant in the Americas, nearly seventy of 

 these occurring in North America. 



This unassuming plant frequently 

 grows in large patches, yet does not 

 crowd its fellows ; often it grows in lo- 

 calities -which the more delicate and bril- 

 liant of the early flowers are wont to 

 shun. This may have been the theme 

 which inspired these lines of the poet : 



I love the lowly children of the earth ! 



I linger 'mid their artless ways 

 To feel their kinship and their fragile worth, 



And catch their speechless praise. 



Though the species of Erigeron are 



coarse growing and unpretentious plants, 

 they lend themselves readily to garden 

 cultivation. They are easily propagated 

 and make good borders, for they are 

 much more beautiful when massed than 

 when allowed to develop as single plants. 

 The forms vary greatly in color — orange, 

 creamy, white, rose, violet, purple and 

 bluish illustrate the range of color. The 

 yellow centers heighten the color effect. 



The flowers resemble those of the as- 

 ters and the Blue Spring Daisy might be 

 mistaken for an Aster. But few of the 

 Asters, however, blossom earlier than the 

 month of August and none before July, 

 and the Spring Daisy does not blossom, 

 as a rule, later than in June. 



Miss Lounsberry says : "What 

 strange idea filled the pretty head of 

 Robin's Plantain when it decked itself 

 out to look like an Aster we do not 

 know, but its deception is very transpar- 

 ent and we readily discover that it is not 

 one of the Asters." May we not look 

 upon it as the harbinger of the true As- 

 ters? 



THE LITTLE FEATHERED BOYS AND GIRLS. 



In fragrant fields where graze the herds 



And all along the old highway. 

 The boys and girls among the birds 



Call each to each the livelong day. 



Bob White, Bob White, pipes out the quail 



From old fence posts and mossy stones. 

 In meadows where the ripened grain 



In golden stacks awaits the flail. 



A little tuft of feathers grey 



That snaps its bill in eager glee 

 When e'er a fly is caught on wing, 



Full forty times calls out Phoebe. 



When fragrant dews fall from the sky — 



And sinks the sun behind the hill, 

 From dark ning woods rings out the cry, 



O Whip poor Will— O Whip poor Will. 



— Blandina D. Miller. 



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