THROUGH LIBRARY WINDOWS 225 



lar and the red butterflies that I had often 

 picked from its blossoms, half tipsy from an 

 overdose of its rich, thick nectar; yes, it was 

 rash indeed in any one to say "I know the wild 

 flowers," by sight one may point out the violet, 

 orchid, anemone, columbine, prince's feather, 

 or those charming everlastings that abound in 

 our pastures and flavor the October atmosphere 

 with the nut-like fragrance, but how few have 

 ever taken the flower of the common milk-weed 

 and put it under the microscope and seen its 

 worlds of beauty excelling nine-tenths of the 

 floral world! 



Sitting here on this hill-side fully exposed to 

 the sun, I spy a belated strawberry, how luscious 

 it looked and what a prize. Shall I save it and 

 take it home? No! Can't resist the old re- 

 membered taste and boy-like thought "a bird in 

 hand is worth two in the bush," and ate it — > 

 Jack Horner. Its exquisite taste gave a thrill 

 of pleasure, no berry its equal, no palate-delight 

 can compare with it. Was there ever so much 

 sweetness packed into such an attractive com- 

 pass? No wonder the world is enamored of 

 the strawberry — it is easily queen of the whole 

 berry field. The garden-growths exceed it in 

 size but never in flavor. They are surely re- 

 lated and we could not well spare either. At 



