To know the road ere on’t we trust the foot, And where it leads, and what, while journeying, We may meet, is Wisdom’s eager wish. _Peerbold._ * * * * * Walk Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast; There is a hand above will help thee on. _Bailey._ MEADOW SAFFRON.... _My best days are past_. The Meadow Saffron, or Colchicum Autumnale, springs up about the time the leaves begin to fall from the trees, and may, therefore, be said to proclaim to all nature, that the bright days of summer are past. According to Ovid, this autumnal flower owes its origin to some drops of the magic liquor prepared by Medea, to restore the aged Æson to the bloom and vigour of youth, which were spilled in the fields. As a medicine, the Colchicum is powerful, but dangerous, and must be used with caution. The poisonous quality of the plant seems to be known, as if by instinct, to all kinds of cattle. They all shun it, and in many pastures this alone will be found standing, when all other herbage has been consumed. * * * * * Why grieve that time has brought so soon The sober age of manhood on? As idly should I weep at noon To see the blush of morning gone. True, time will sear and blanch my brow: Well--I shall sit with aged men, And my good glass will tell me how A grisly beard becomes me then. And should no foul dishonour lie Upon my head when I am gray, Love yet may search my fading eye, And smooth the path of my decay. _Bryant._ [Illustration: SWEET PEA PANSY _I depart. Think on me._] * * * * * Oh! thou who dry’st the mourner’s tear, How dark this world would be, If, when deceived and wounded here, We could not fly to thee! The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone: But thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw Their fragrance from the wounded part, Breathes sweetness out of wo. _Moore._ * * * * * Then bright from earth, amid the troubled sky, Ascends fair Colchicum, with radiant eye, Warms the cold bosom of the hoary year, And lights with beauty’s blaze the dusky sphere. _Darwin._ * * * * * The world around me groweth gray and old: My friends are dropping one by one away; Some live in distant lands--some in the clay Rest quietly, their mortal moments told. And when my children gather at my knee To worship GOD and sing our morning psalm, Their rising stature whispers unto me My life is waning towards its evening calm. _MacKellar._ CHINA ASTER.... _Variety_.