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many petals are narrow, white, tipped with a slight tinge of crimson, and are placed in a single row around the centre. This is the single, or wild variety; but cultivation has rendered the flower double, and has developed many beautiful colors and shades. The “hen and chickens" is one of these experimental varieties, in which the main flower-head is surrounded by several smaller ones. Beside this, called prolifera, there are the large double, and the double-quilled, the latter being a deep rich crimson, with globular heads, and usually cultivated in pots. There are also choice varieties of white, blush, rosecolor, striped, and other tints. Division of the plants is said to be an easy and successful way of propagation. The daisy is sometimes used as a border for flower-beds, and patches of these lovely little flowers set in the turf of lawns frequently mown, form a very pretty sight for the lover of flowers.
Burns's beautiful but somewhat melancholy lines on a mountain daisy, on turning one down with the plow in the month of April, have been often quoted, but will not lose their charm from re-reading:
“Wee, modest, crimson-tipped Auw'r,
Thy slender stem:
Thou bonnie gen.
" Snch is the fate of artless maid,
Sweet floweret of the rural shader
And guilelebs trust,
Low in the dust.
of prudent lore,
And wbelm bim o'er.
To mis'ry's brink,
He, ruined, sink!
Full on thy bloom,
Shall be thy doom |” One more tribute to the daisy and we have done. Our readers will not be inclined, we think, to weary over the perusal of Wordsworth's beautiful lines addressed to this little flower:
“In yonth from rock to rock I went,
Most pleased when most uneas;
of thee, sweet Daisy!
That she may sun thee;
When rains are on thee.
Thou art not daunted,
When such are wanted.
The flowers the wanton Zephyrs choose;
Her head impearling;
The Poct's darling.
“ Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,
The purpling east.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Amid thy storm,
Thy tender form,
" The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and walls maun
shield, But thou beneath the random bield
of clod or stone, Adorns the listic stubble-field,
In humble guise;
Ard low thou lies!
Imprisoned by hot sunshine lie
Near the green holly,
" A hundred times, by rock or bower,
Or stray invention,
"When, smitten by the morning ray,
With kindred gladness:
Or careful sadness,
To thee am owing;
Nor whither going.
As morning Leveret,
Art Nature's favorite."
“If stately passions in me burn,
A lowlier pleasure;
or hearts at leisure.
THE SPARROW'S NEST.
It was strawberry time, and, like most she thought, she would hull the berries other children, little Deena West felt it to with her very own fingers, and how nice it be the happiest moment of her life when would be to have them for tea! For Deena she had permission to take her bright tin was fond of goodies, and strawberries and pail and go to the fields on a berrying ex- cream stood in her estimation exactly on a pedition. It was so delightful to look for level with ice-cream. Imagination could the red tempting berries, and when she go no further. had found them, to pick them as fast as On she went, across the road, climbing she could, calling out to her companions over the stone wall, going through the that she had found “such a thick spot!" wide orchard to reach the field just beA great many of the berries went into her yond. The robins were singing sweetly mouth instead of the pail, it must be con- among the apple trees, and Deena listened fessed, and perbaps that was what made to their mellow notes and thought to herher lips look so much like two ripe straw- self how funny it was that one of them, berries.
with a wonderfully bright breast, should Deena usually had companions when keep saying so earnestly, “Kill him, cure she went berrying, but one bright morning him! Kill him, cure him!” while he eyed she could find no one to go with her, and her as if he thought she could do someso concluded to go alone, bearing in mind thing about it. the fact that perhaps her pail would be “ I should think," she mused, that it fuller than if she had company. Not that would be better to cure him first, and she was very selfish in such matters, but then-but no! what would be the use, if she was inclined to console herself some- he's got to be killed, after all? And how how for her loneliness.
anybody could be killed and then cured' is So, with her broad-brimmed hat tied se- more than I know. There don't seem to curely under her chin, and her hands en- be much sense in it, anyway, and I don't cased in the little cotton mittens her moth- believe the robins know themselves." er had made to keep her hands from get- Then she added aloud to the robin, “I ting poisoned or sunburnt, she departed, guess you've made a mistake, Mr. Robin, swinging her pail, and thinking how full it for folks can't be cured after they're should be before she went home. Then, killed, not if they're real dead, you know. Leastways, I never heard of such a thing. grasses, so she stepped carefully forward, But perhaps," she added, politely, as an and, looking down, saw on the other side after-thought, "perbaps I don't under- of the bough a little nest snugly resting in stand you right."
its place, and five little speckled eggs laid The robin stared at her fixedly for a close together in it. There were wild second or two, and then, giving his broad flowers blossoming all around it, and altotail a contemptuous dirt, he flew away to gether it was a very pretty sight to see. another tree, calling out, “O1 01 0!” as Deena forgot her precious strawberries, much as to say, “I should think you didn't and some of them were spilled on the understand! 'Kill him, cure him,' indeed! ground as she bent over the sparrow's nest What nonsense !"
in speechless delight. Such cunning little “Well," thought Deena, as she went on, eggs as they were, and such a nice little “he's nothing but a robin, anyway, and he nest! O, how glad she was that she had needn't have been provoked! I'm sure it found it, all alone by herself! Then she sounded just like ‘kill him, cure him,' remembered the frightened bird, and drew and how was I to know ?"
away quietly, hoping to see her go back to
One more wall to climb, and then Deena was in the strawberry field, which, after all, was not far from the house, being within calling distance. The patches of vines were scattered all over the field, and Deena went from one to another, finding the berries quite ripe and thick. Full of ambition to get her pail full, she picked very steadily, troubled with no fear but that of seeing a snake: but, to her great delight, not one was visible. The time flew, the sun grew hotter and hotter, and the pail was almost full. Suddenly, as Deena stepped toward the fallen limb of a tree that lay on the ground, a little brown bird flew up with a chitter of alarm. Deena knew that it was a ground sparrow, and that they build their nests among the
her tiny home. She did not watch in vain, for presently the sparrow flew back, looked around suspiciously, and then, as all was still, she disappeared from sight, and Deena was right in conjecturing that she had settled down upon her nest.
Full of the precious discovery, Deena began again to pick berries, busily thinking all the while whether she should tell any one about it or not. At first she thought it would be very nice to tell her two particular friends and playmates, Frank and Jessie Lawrence, that she had something to show them, and then lead them to the nest and surprise them with it. But sho remembered that her mother had told her that it was cruel to disturb little birds, and if she ever found any nests she must