But come down to the garden, for there I have some of the oddest and
prettiest boxes to show. The pease and beans have long canoes, satin-
lined and waterproof. On what voyage they are bound, I cannot say.
The tall milk-weed that grew so fast all summer, and threatened to over-
run the garden, now pays well for its lodging by the exquisite treasure
which its rough-covered, pale-green bag holds. Press your thumb on its
closed edges; for this casket opens with a spring, and, if it is ripe
and ready, it will unclose with a touch, and show you a little fish,
with silver scales laid over a covering of long, silken threads, finer
and more delicate than any of the sewing-silk in your mother's work-box.
This silk is really a wing-like float for each scale; and the scales are
seeds, which will not stay upon the little fish, but long to float away
with their silken trails, and, alighting here and there, cling and seek
for a good place to plant themselves.
See, too, how the poppy has provided herself with a deep, round box of a
delicate brown color; the carved lid might have been made by the
Chinese, it looks so much like their fine work. Full to the brim, this
box is. The poppy is rich in the autumn; brown seeds by the hundred,
packed away for another year's use.
Here are the balsams,--touch-me-nots, we used to call them when I was a
child; for, Poor things, so slightly have they locked up their treasure,
that even the baby's little finger will open the rough-feeling oblong
casket with a snap and a spring, and send the jewels flying all over the
garden-bed, where you will scarcely be able to find them again.
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