The state herald., 1909-08-20


farmhouses where the Cheviots slope
to the Till. But those noted agricul.
turists. the brothers Culley, had more
appreciation of the homely turnip than
"the burning bush." and 1t was
their grubbing and plowing that
transformed a region SO wildly pictur.
esque into fruitful land. What II
was like before their operations be.
gan may be known from the appear.
ance of the land that has proved ir.
reclaimable. How familiar and yet
how impressive the broom was may
be judged from the frequency with
which 1t finds place In the old bal
lads. Long after its petals have fallen
to the ground In the south 1t contin
ues In Highland strath and glen what
time the angler penetrates them In
search of trout
There are several white flowers that
sweep past like visionary clouds in
the procession. First, the wee mod.
est crimson-tipped" one that spreads
over meadow and golf course till. in
the sunny days of May when the
nightingale is in full song. they rest
like sheets of snow on the warm
ground. Following close upon them is
that truly English flower. the haw.
thorn. 1t is unobtrusive in the thicket
and well-trimmed hedge: but when the
bushes have been allowed to grow tall
for the sake of shelter. or where In.
dividual trees abound. 1t assumes for
brief period an unquestioned do
minion. The garlands OF pure soft
white It hangs out make the color OF
the landscape while they last. and the
fragrance 1t diffuses has no equal
save II be that OF an orchard when
the apple trees are In bloom and
resonant with the humming of innum
cradle bees. With the decay OF the
hawthorn comes n feeling OF sadness
II was with unmixed Joy that we
! hailed the early figures in the long
procession. The maids OF January
whitening the woodland while the
trees are bare are greeted as hcralds
cowslips In the meadow and primroses
on the steep sides OF the dene are still
but harbingers. We have no thought
OF the end when the marsh. .marigold
shines like fire on swamps and hoi
lows gray. nor when the faint sweet
cuckoo flower" spreads nodding ovei
the low-lying meadows. TIL by force o
numbers Its exquisite and delicat,
shape and color master those OF II,
companions. But the fading of tn,
hawthorn tells Of springs early ex
piry. and when the wild rose has bios
somed and faded we know that nnoth
er pretty ring time" has been nddet
to the past. No other occurrence II
the year strikes an equal note of sad
ness. especially among those OF ripe,
years. II is the enviable privilege o
youth to live In the passing hour nnt
enjoy the mystic Now" and to b,
ever looking forward to some now dis
covcry or adventure. but as we grow
old and lose our illusions. we gain tn,
dismal knowledge tina. the flight o
time is much more likely to discovc
the dIsagrecablc than the pleasant. an,
we also become more kccnly alive I,
tho transient character OF most things
We know that we also are only fig
urcs In long procession OF mel
vending from one dark point to nm
other. appearing as miraculousiy n
tho flowers. and Mt the end. passinj
like them once more to the soft nrm
Of earth" our Mother. And he VIII,
realizes what is meant by ages an,
aeons Of time recognizes that the dii
ference between the lifetime OF now
or md OF n man IL impcrceptibie
When you are facing eternity. u dn,
"is ns a thousand ycnra."