Some of them are nearly as tall as myself.

They almost alarm me when I am dividing violas, and trifling with alpines.

They stand over me (without sticks) and seem to say, "We are up, you see where we are! We shall grow as long as we think it desirable." Farewell for the present, Little Friend, Yours, &c.
[Footnote 4: When fully grown these plants proved to be the Tree-Mallow, _Lavatera arborea_; the seeds were gathered from specimens on the shores of the Mediterranean.] LETTER IV.
"When Candlemas Day is come and gone, The snow lies on a hot stone."-- _Old Saw_.
DEAR LITTLE FRIEND, Among all the changes and chances of human life which go to make up fiction as well as fact, there is one change which has never chanced to any man; and yet the idea has been found so fascinating by all men that it appears in the literature of every country.

Most other fancied transformations are recorded as facts somewhere in the history of our race.

Poor men have become rich, the beggar has sat among princes, the sick have been made whole, the dead have been raised, the neglected man has awoke to find himself famous, rough and kindly beasts have been charmed by lovely ladies into very passable Princes, and it would be hard to say that the ugly have not seen themselves beautiful in the mirror of friendly eyes; but the old have never become young.