OUR COUNTRY LIFE 



snipped and the superfluous seed-pods of the snapdrag- 

 ons removed, a fragrance from the freshly opened nico- 

 tine calls us to admire its starry flower until the phlox's 

 honey-sweet perfume distracts our lingering gaze. 

 We lift up the dahlia's modest, drooping head (who 

 ever in the olden time heard of a dahlia being modest? 

 It must be a modern evolution), or we stoop to hunt 

 for the long threads of the yellow dodder among the 

 petunias. Someway before the helplessness and re- 

 sponse of much loved flowers and the self-will and de- 

 termination of much despised weeds, our thoughts are 

 distracted. All at once we are conscious that the dark 

 cloud which hung over us has vanished; and in this 

 present rosy atmosphere our troubles have assumed 

 their proper proportions, and we can almost be amused 

 at them. Could a trip to Europe be more efficacious 

 than this? 



Have you ever tried to cut off every single seed-pod 

 from a flourishing circular bed in your garden? Some- 

 times I have spent hours without success, for in the 

 very middle three or four would stand defiantly erect, 



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