AUGUST. 
As the little flower-lover walked through the 
meadows, in the sultry month of August, she saw 
that this was indeed “ the spring month of the au¬ 
tumnal flowers,” for there were more buds than 
blossoms, though the warmth of the sun had won 
many forth before their usual season. Every thing 
looked fresh and promising, as if preparing for the 
brilliant colors of autumn. 
The Hypericums told her how the bees loved 
their nectar ; and Mary saw the busy little creatures 
flit from one to the other, and fly away laden with 
