176 THROUGH GLADE AND MEAD. 
Peaceful, unpruned, immeasurably old—. 
My thoughts go up the long, dim path of years, 
Back to the earliest days of liberty.” 
Now come rare flowers, rare in number, rare in 
gracefulness, the full perfection of whose charm can be 
realized only in their native haunts, by the now faintly 
murmuring brook, or within the shadow of the pine or 
the maple. Like the golden opportunity they present 
themselves and then pass away; but unlike the golden 
opportunity they will come again with the recurring 
seasons, as fresh and fair as a first creation, realizing as 
nearly as may be the fanciful dream of the ‘ Fountain 
of Youth.” 
Our fifth group of flowers has been hurrying on. 
They seem impatient to take their places in the long 
summer procession. We can hardly keep pace with 
them in their forward movement. Some of them are so 
beautiful, we are loth to let them pass. All of them 
have an interest for us as finished specimens from Na- 
ture’s workshop. If we cannot stop to examine each 
minutely, we can recognize their presence and hope to 
see them again and, perhaps, learn more of their life 
history. At least we will welcome them as old friends. 
