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THEY SA V. 



Darwin, he finds hours and days of rare enjoyment in 

 observing and experimenting, hybridizing and raising 

 seedlings, and arranging all sorts of traps for nature. 

 The artist has only a little of any but the first kind of 

 those various interests, but, with pencil and brush, sits, 

 day after day, drawing and coloring a single bunch of 

 flowers. Not far from where we write hangs a beauti- 

 ful group of wild roses, the work of many long hours, 

 and one can see at a glance what minute and newly dis- 

 covered beauties this skillful, patient lover of flowers 

 found in those green leaves, thorn-clad stems and deli- 

 cately shaded petals. But even the artist does not ex- 

 haust the delight that is in flowers, for the poetic mind 

 finds in them new and tender thoughts. Like Burns' 

 daisy, they speak a thousand things most difficult to say, 

 and become a new half-human language. But all these 

 classes of persons still leave unused that capacity of 

 many human and noble hearts to love the individual 

 flower and plant, not as a variety or a species, but as its 

 own, tended by its care and loved because loving is 

 natural and sweet to such hearts. Surely now, with all 

 these persons in the garden, we have made the most of 

 it — at least with their help. But no, the great Teacher 

 stands before us and tells us how He has considered the 

 lilies. Just so far as we fail to have any one of all these 

 numerous interests in flowers and growing things, do we 

 fail to make the most of the garden. We cannot have 

 them all in great measure — but the artist's, for example : 

 would not a little more training with the pencil in our 

 youth have given us a greater appreciation of growing, 

 graceful forms of leaves, vines and branches ? Could 

 not our scientific curiosity and interest have been 

 greater ? Could we not, even now, become collectors in 

 a small way ? If we had done what Mr. Darwin, at the 

 last, regretted sadly he had failed to do, namely, read a 

 little in the best poets daily, would not our poetic inter- 

 est be stronger and now afford us more of the honey of 

 Hymettus ? Nay, if we loved the individual plant and 

 its blossoms as does many a humble cottager, would not 

 we find one of the sunniest, happiest spots of earth in 

 our little garden. 



Along Fences and Walls. — The thrifty farmer 

 should cultivate his fields close up to the walls and 

 fences. By so doing, he has the benefit of crops on a 

 long narrow strip of land that is often given up to 

 weeds and brush, which produce an abundant crop of 

 seeds, and are a convenient hiding place for vermin. 



Farmers are sometimes heard to say that it does not 

 pay to cultivate this narrow line ; that the labor is 

 greater than the return. It may be so on their land. If 

 they have followed out this principle for years, you 

 doubtless will find the walls down in places, the shrubs 

 of former years now trees, and the strip that was once a 

 few feet in width, now measuring a few yards. It 

 doubtless would take the crops of several years to pay 

 for the labor of clearing such a thicket, but all this 

 great labor could be avoided if a little attention was 

 given it every year — much less than is required to keep 

 the thicket within bounds. 



Do not understand that I advocate the destruction of 

 all trees and shrubs on the farm lands. I do not by 

 any means. They have their place, but it is not along 

 every line of fence and wall. — Warren H. Manning. 



A Song of Roses. 



Roses red and roses white, 

 In the garden, glowing bright, 

 Growing in the soft, clear light 



Of the sunshine golden— 

 Surely, never flowers more fair, 

 With their dainty fragrance rare, 

 Ever blossomed anywhere—" 



E'en in Eden olden ! 



As we watch them hour by hour, 

 We can fancy every flower 

 Is the velvet, perfumed Ibower 



Of an elf or fairy ; 

 But, tho' look whene'er we may 

 At dewy eve or dawn of day. 

 Ever are the elves away 



From their dwelling airy. 



Roses red and roses white. 

 Opening in the sunshine bright, 

 Ever beautiful to sight — 



Of Love a graceful token ! 

 While velvet leaf and foliage green, 

 Most perfect workmanship e'er seen, 

 To all who see, God's love may mean, 



Tho' not in language spoken. 



— F. A. Reynolds. 



"Fascinating Sand" in Parks. — Heaps of sea 

 sand are placed, at public cost, in the parks and squares 

 of Berlin, where the German children sport under the 

 general supervision of the police. So excellent an ex- 

 ample was followed recently in Boston, where the Mas- 

 sachusetts Emergency and Hygienic Association pro- 

 vided seven such play-grounds. Writing of the pleas- 

 ant outcome of the small investment for this and other 

 out-door recreation in the interest of the city poor, a 

 correspondent of T/ie WorcesUr Spy says : 



"The ladies started the movement, the school com- 

 mittee gave the use of the school-yards, the public con- 

 tributed the money, and reliable, motherly women were 

 employed four days in the week to matronize the little 

 folk. It was a pretty sight to see these children, 

 doomed to spend the summer in town, playing with 

 shovels and pails in the sand, whose fascination was un- 

 ending. Others were playing horse with worsted reins, 

 or tossing bean bags, skipping rope, and playing ball. 

 If a different set had come every day, it is calculated 

 that the matrons would have entertained almost 130,- 

 000 children. Now and then a basket of flowers would 

 be contributed, so that each child went home with a 

 nosegay. This season it is hoped the contributions will 

 be sufficiently generous to establish twenty sand gardens 

 and extend the benefits." 



Virginia Creeper on the Lawn. — How many people 

 know that the Virginia creeper is handsomer as a lawn 

 plant than the Kilmarnock willow and similar trees ? 

 Trained over a rock or a trellis four or five feet high, it 

 m.akes a most free and graceful mound of foliage. 



