shape as a heart is conventionalized, and so deeply veined that their golden-green surfaces catch the light in hills and hollows. Where the vine grows in bright sunlight along the road these leaves are so closely set they overlap like the scales on a fish. Its bloom is insignificant, the male flowers drooping clusters, the female spike-like heads. The seeds are small triangles, and a number of them are placed on a long stem. When these are dry and shaken by winter winds they make as good music as the hop tree. Saffron Another old snake fence corner pet of mine, that flourishes in cultivation, and that is dignified and an artistic plant, is wild saffron. It bears Wild transplanting well, and if its location and soil are at all congenial, in a few years it grows into a most attractive bush. It reaches from three to four feet in height, many shoots upspringing from the same root. The stems are round, smooth, and even, with a slight yellow tint to their green, that extends to the leaves also. These are set at different places, and point in all directions. They are very graceful, as each is made up of twenty small leaves set on a midrib. Approaching the top, the last nine or ten have a small spray of bloom branching from their bases. These little bloom-sprays and the large crown of the plant are masses of small individual yellow flowers having five cuppy petals of unequal length, and anthers so dark-brown as to be mistaken for black at a casual glance. Both the leaves and the bloom-clusters help to give it a delicate, lacy appearance. I can not so describe the flowers as to paint an adequate idea of their richness. The separate sprays at the leaf bases appear lighter yellow than the massive head and show the individual flowers better. The crown is a conical mist of gold accented by touches of almost black. Saffron is a stately and distinguished plant of great beauty in the fence corners, where it has a struggle to preserve its individuality among the masses of growth around it. On a lawn its every feature of distinction would be enhanced. One point that should be of especial interest to those who wish to try the cultivation of wild flowers and trees on their premises, is the range of color in the mid-summer and fall species. Many people relying on cultivated shrubs and flowers grow a mass of spring and early summer bloom, and have bare shrubs and leafless vines in fall and winter. The field flowers are a blaze of color all summer until frost, and there are several vines, bushes, and trees that are brilliant with seeds and berries throughout the winter. Few words of our language are more suggestGreen ive of peace and comfort than "pasture." Pastorem, a green feeding-ground, according to the old Latins. And wherever there is a green feeding Pastures "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures' He leadeth me gently toward Him, " ground you may be very sure you will find the shade of trees and bushes, and frequently there is running water. Wherever you locate these you hear a swelling bird and insect chorus. From the dawn of history men in travel and in burden-bearing have been very dependent on their beasts, and so have sought to make suitable provision for them. This setting off a space of growing food for stock is without date, and over and over the chroniclers of the Bible made use of the comparison of the care of men for their flocks with the care of God for men. "The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters." The bodily comfort we give to our beasts made the basis of a comparison with the spiritual comfort God gives us, in one of the most beautiful expressions ever portrayed in language, "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures." Before the eye rises the picture of a lush, green meadow sprinkled with daisies and dotted with buttercups; the lark overhead, and the full-fed cattle lying-pictures of contentment in the shade of the newlyleafing trees that ring with the songs of courting birds. The thought of a pasture is in some way connected with spring; perhaps because, as at no other time, the cattle cry for it, and beg piteously to be released to natural food. At that time the pastures are green; later they may not be. Then |