FLOWERING SHRUBS 
and then what a cry of joy arose, such as those wild plains 
had never echoed before, “The child! The child!” It reached 
the father’s ears, though distant far from the spot, and he 
scarcely believed, for joy, till she was placed warm and 
breathing in his arms. The crowd instinctively drew back 
for a space and left the father and child clasped in each 
other’s arms. Many a manly cheek was wet that day when 
they saw the childish face, thin and wan as it was, nestling 
in the father’s arms, her thin browned hands clasped about 
his neck as if no power on earth should part them again. 
Surely the father might have cried out in the fulness of 
his heart, “ Rejoice with me, my friends, for this my lamb was 
lost and is found!” 
Years have passed away, and little Jane has long been a 
wife and happy mother, and, no doubt, has often told her 
children the tale of her adventure on the Rice Lake plains, 
and pointed them to the gracious Father in Heaven who 
kept her under the shadow of His wing during those days of 
danger and fear. 
The plains are now cultivated in every direction; the 
huckleberries are fast disappearing and will have to be 
sought for elsewhere. 
Frost GraPE—Vitis cordifolia (Mx.).* 
Those deep, embowering masses of foliage; those verdant 
draperies that fall in such graceful leafy curtains from 
branch to branch, roofing the dark, shady recesses of our 
wooded lakes and river banks; those light feathery-clustered 
blossoms that hover like a misty cloud above the leafy mass, 
giving out a tender perfume as the breeze passes over them, 
like sweet Mignonette,—those are our native vines, our Wild 
Grapes. 
*Y, riparia (Michx.) of Gray’s Manual, sixth edition. 
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