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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmds en commengant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de chaque microfiche, selon Ie cas: Ie symbole — *- signifie "A SUIVRE", Ie symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent etre filmds d des taux de reduction diff^rents. Lorsque Ie document est trop grand pour gtre roproduit en un seul clichd, il est film6 d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant Ie nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. I by errata med to nent une pelure, fapon d 9. 32X 1 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 i BEAUTIFUL WILD FLOWERS. UNIFORM WITH "BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS." BEAUTIFUL FERNS. Containing; fourteen superbly colored lif'c-sizc Plates of the most attracti\c of our American I'crns. Prici; S6oo. ESTES & LAURIAT, PUBLISHERS. 209-30,^ Wa.shington Strekt, Boston. .S. E. CAS.SIXO, Boston, BEAUTIFUL WILD FLOWERS OF AMERICA. ORIGINAL WATER-COLOR DRAWINGS AFTER NATURE, By ISAAC SPRAGUE. DESCRIPTIVE TEXT BY REV. A. B. HERVEY. WITH F.XTRACTS FROM LOXGFELLOIV. WHITTIER, BRVAXT. HOUfES, AXD OTHERS. BOSTON: ESTES & LAURIAT. ,^oi WASIILNGTON ST. S. E. CASSIXO. y. HAVVLEY ST. 1882. ■' 0 .11 COPVRICIIT. lS8l, By S, E. CASSINO. .14 CONTENTS. i 4 conti:nts. I'l.ATK I. Fringed Gentian II. Wild Columbine III. Mountain Pkinc;!': IV. Flower di: Lucic (Larger Blue Flag) V. Wild C)ran(;e-Ri:d Lily VI. Wild Clematis . VII. Swamp Rose VIII. Wati.:r Lily IX. Moccasin FlowI'R (Lady's Slipper) X. y\.RR()W" Li:a\t:d Violf.t XI. Purplp: A/^alI'A . XII. May-FlowI'R (Trailing Arhutus) XIII. Calopogon XIV. Long-Leaved Asii-:r l\f: PA(;i-; I I 25 35 47 57 (\5 77 91 99 109 123 127 141 151 THE FRINGED C;EXTIAN. THK I'RKSSKD CKNTIAX AT CHRISTMAS The time of gifts has come asain ; And on my noitlierii wiiulow-iiane, Outlined nLjaiiist tiie day's brief hght, A Christmas token hangs in sight. The wayside travellers, as they pass, Mark the gray disk of clouded glass ; And the dull blackness seems, perchance, Folly to their wise ignorance. They cannot from their outlook see The perfect grace it has to me ; I'or there the flower, whose fringes through The frosty breath of autumn blew. Turns fiorn without its face of bloom To the warm tropic of my room. As fair as when beside its brook The hue of bending skies it took. So, from the troilden ways of earth, Seem sotiie sweet souls who veil their worth, And offer to the careless glance The clouding gray of circumstance: They blossom best where lieart-fires burn. To loving eyes alone they turn 'I'he flowers (^{ inward grace, that hide Their beauty from tlie world outside. But deeper meanings came to me, My half immortal flower, from thee I Man judges from a partial view. None ever yet his brother knew ; The Eternal I^ye that sees the whole. May better read the darkened soul, And find, to outward sense tlenied, '1 he flower upon its inmost side. I ^. THE FRINGED GENTIAN GENTIANA CRINITA, Fnvl. To him who in the love of Nature holds Cominiinion with her visible forms, she speaks A various lanoruage; for his i^^ayer hours She has a voiee of .yiadness. and a smile And eloquenee of beauty, and she oijtles Into his darker musinirs with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware. I nryant. In the great Book of Nature. God has uttered his ^vondrou.s and majestic thoughts. The poet and the naturalist, each in his own way, translates them to us out of the "original tongues." The poet, with the vision of a seer and the sympathy of a worshipper enters the silent heart of Nature, and feeling the pulses of thought and emotion beating there, interprets them to the hearts of other men. He is no true poet who does not find in the facts and physical forms of Nature, in sea or sky. in bird, or tree, or fknver, some spirit which is akin to that which glows and throbs in human hearts. "Out of the dust of the earth " the same Hand made us all. " Nature i6 THE FRINGED GENTIAN. is loved by what is best in us," says Emerson, and loved, I think, because there is something of the best of Nature in man. and some- thing of the best of man in Nature. The roiinclcd Avnrld is fiiir to sec. Nine times folded in mystery: Tlioiish baffled seer cannot impnrt The seeret of its laborins:^ heart, Throb thine with Natnre's throbbing breast, And all is clear from east to west. Spirit tha lurks each form within IV-ckons to spirit of its kin. 1 Iiiiicrsoii. The naturalist interprets to us the exact definable truth of Nature, as that truth is embodied in the physical facts, laws, and relations of things. From him we learn (^f the causes, methods, reasons, and adjustments of Nature. Sometimes he teaches us what is the physical basis of that beauty of form and color which, in the sunset sky or June landscape, in fern or Howe-, ravishes the soul with delight. Not seldom he is able to resolve the reason that runs unheard 'l)eneath the song of the poet, when he strikes Nature's most melodious key. " All arc but p.arts of one stupendous whole. Whose body nature is, and God the soul." Having then something of that soul in each of us, it is no wonder wc should feel a subtile sympathy with the other parts (^f this great body which Nature is. So when the poet has woven a web of thought and feeling about any of the beautiful forms of Nature, and imparted to them a human interest and sensibility out of his own soul, he has been illustrating the truest philosophy. GF.NTIANA CRIXITA. 17 of id Is, at he ml ns e's :1c r cat of md i\vn p > ^a " For the Poet, fiiithfiil :iiul far-seeini,r, Sees, alike in stars and tlowers, a part Of" the self-same, universal bein. 1 The Wild Columbine, AQUILEGIA CANADENSIS, L. '1* Thou smiliiiij^ Spring! again thy praise Is on the lip of streams; And the waterfalls loud anthems raise, By day, and in their dreams; The lakes that glitter on the plain Sing with the stirring bree/e; And the voiec of weleomc sounds again From tile surge upon the seas. Rock-vcU. " Smilinc; Spring." in our northern climes, adorns itself Mith many floral gems. In the pages of this book. I shall have the pleasure of making my readers familiar with the forms of a few of the most beautiful of them. Among them all none can be ranked higher, for a certain grace of bearing and a peculiar delicacy as well as brilliancy of coloring, than the Wild Columbine. The green of the small threc-lobed rounded leaves is singularly delicate and satisfying to the eye. The flower is elaborately constructed, with its yellow and pink petals pro- longed into a bent spur behind, its dark-red sepals protrud- THE WILD COI.UMRINF.. iw^ like wiiip^s l)et\vccii ; aiul its down-hanging brush of lengthened pistils and stamens, all pendent upon the slender stalk. As it tlanees in the gentle breezes, it makes a floral treasure that every wanderer in ihe spring woods or by " mead- ow's marge" will be glad to Hnd. And you will find it in early spring, not seldom when few other flowers have come; when the "Adder's Tongue," the "Anemone," the "Blue V'iolets," and the " Sanguinaria," i)erhaps, will be its only .companions. In the warm days of April or early May, l.efore the trees have shaken out their new foliage to the breeze, when the bright sun i)oiirs its flood of light and warmth over all the land — over the brown pastures, and down through the shadeless woods, and the thick covering of crisj), dry leaves, the cast-off foliage of last year, stirs and crackles under your feet, — that is th: time to go gathering Columbines. It affects high places, and especially those edges of hill-tops where the rocks push themselves to the surface, and make |)recipitous steeps. Many a time I have found it thus, in pro- fusion, on the high hills east of the Hudson, about Troy. And my memorv of sundry walks, in warm spring days, when the spirit, weary with long months of toil, pent up in brick walls, so deeply enjoys the first glimpse again of the bright loving face of Nature, will be always associatetl with these charming flowers. The Columbine of the Hnglish woodlands has been held sometimes, the poets say, as the symbol of sorrow and deso- lation. "The Columbine, by lonely wanderers taken. Is tl'.cn ascribed to siicli as are forsaken." 4 THE WILD COLUMBINE. 27 I Mr. Thomas Mechan quotes an old play of Chapman, of the year 1600, in which reference is made to the Columbine as an emblem of int^ratitude. "What's that — a Cohimhiiic? No, that thankless llowcr i;r()\vs not in ni}' garden." Rut to me it is a flower associated neither with sorrow nor in;.;ratitude, but with the memory of some of the most beau- tiful and sunny hours that have come to me in all this " pil_s.;rimage." The Wild Columbine is a plant a foot or more his^rh, slen- der, and sparini,dy branched, with not many leaves. The stem and branches are more or less tintj^ed with pink. It may be found in blossom from April to June, in the North-eastern and Midtile States. It takes kindly to cultivation, and may be transplanted into the garden. It was carried to Europe from this country for that purpose about the middle of the last centurv. The spurs into which the petals arc prolonged are the nec- taries, or honey-pots, of the flower. The considerable leneth of these serves to test the strength, perseverance, or ingenuity of the bees or other insects who would rob the flower of its drops of sweetness. By this means also it compels the rob- ber to serve its economy of reproduction. Being obliged to push and struggle hard to get his tongue into the bottom of the deep nectary, he is sure to get his hairy back covered all over with the flower-dust, or pollen, from the yellow anthers against which he so roughly brushes. So, when in search of more honey, he flies away to another Columbine, he will carry 28 Till' WILD COLUMUINU. n load of the fcrtilizint,^ dust with him. Thus he helps to make the plant more fruitful, and secures plenty of Howers next year for the sui)i)ort, as we mij^ht suppose he understands it, of his own prot;eny. Some insects, which are not lars^e enouj^h to reach the droj) of nectar in the bottom of the vessel with their tongue, inj^eni- ously j;() around on the outside, and with their sharp jaws cut a little hole through its wall, and take the honey out through that. The Columbine to which the Hnglish poets refer is a pur[)le iiouer, somewhat stouter than this one, not so long, and with the spurs more incurved at tlie entl. It is the common Colum- bine of our gardens. '• Make her a goodly cliaplet of azure columbines, yViul wreathe about lier coronet with sweetest ej;lanline," wrote Drayton three hundred years ago; and poor, crazed Ophelia gathers it to deck herself, saying in her plaintive way to Laertes, " Tliei'e is iennel for you, ;uul columbines." The name is said to be derived from co/itniba, Latin for dove ; or from ciilvcii-woii, which was its earlier name, and is from Anglo-Saxon cii/fre, a dove, and looi'f, a plant. The appropriate- ness of the name and the allusion rests upon some fancied resemblance of its blue or purj^le petals to a circle of doves drink- ing or eating from the same dish ; or, as some say, to the like- ness of the separate petals, with the wing-like sepals spreading on each side, to a miniature do\e. The derivation of the name of the genus, Aqiiilcgia, is a mat- ter of dispute among botanists. Some say that it is derived froni Wi, * -# I THii WILD coi.umhint:. 29 :'PI i Latin aqtiila, cajole, rcfcrrinc:;' to the likeness which the cluster of bent spurs seems to bear to the talons of that lordly bird. Others deri\e it from (Ujiia, water, and //i^'v;, to collect, referrinj.;- to the apparent desit^n of the petals, with tlieir deep wells, to collect water; which, by the way, they nt'ver ilo, for they always han.t,'' horizontal, or mouth downward. If this is the derivation of the word, it would seem more likely to liave reference to the open seed-case, which, when ripe, stands erect and mii;ht easily serve the uses of a rain-catcher. The Columbine has been a favorite, not only with the poets, but with the artists also, in the aL;es past. It appears not infre- quently as an element of decorative art. It is found as a border upon an illuminated manuscript as early as the fifteenth century. It was at one time combined with the red rose, as a bad^y'e of the royal house of Lancaster. And lony before that it had been associated with the more familiar Hrooi]i-flowcr, Planta i^ci/isfn, as the bad_sTc of the royal house which thence derived its historic name, Plantatrenet. ,"'^" Ik THE MOUNTAIN FRINGE. t '-I^*' Ji '^ »■ '■ 3. v" * -; •al 'i I % 'S iif ^'.^d The Mountain Fringe, ADLUML'l CIRRHOSA, Raf. For I lia\ c learned To look on Xatmr, not as in the ho nir Oftl loimhtless Nouth: but 1 leaniii:; oltentinies Tl le still, sad music of humanitw Nor harsh, nor gratiiiL;', though ol" ample power To chasten and subdi And I 1 ia\c ieit A presence that disturbs me with tl le 10V ()t'ele\ated thouuhts a sense sulilime Of something far more deeply interllised. Whose dwelling- is the light ol" setting suns. And the round ocean and the living- air. And the blue skv, and in tl le miiu I ol' man. T lerelore am 1 still A lo\ er ol"the meadows and the woods. And mountains; and of all that we 1 Id V\ww this green earth; of all the Of eye, and ear. — both what they half And what perceixe; well pi In Nature and the e Hello miglU\' wor Id create, eased to i ecogmze aiiLiuaiie o i' tl le sense. nirest thoutihts; tl le nurse. The anchor of ni\' The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all mv moral being. — W'ordixcort/i. 36 THE MOUNTAIN IRINGE. It would not be str in''c if sometime \vc should learn to k now ious that the evolutionist had actually laid bare the fine, myster chain, which, as the poet found out lout,'' ai^a:), binds all beins^s i n a common kmsluii and a universal s\-m path} There is no fact of nature more olnious even to the casual observer than the U;reat variety of forms cxistins;- side bv side in the vetretable world It wou Id task the most \'\\'u\ and active imas'ination to conceive of a form of plant-life of which the naturalist does not already know somethiuL;- which would more than parallel it in novelty or strange eccentricitN' of hal)it. And there is a place for evervthiu''-, and a chance for all, — for the feathery fi I em m the (lee p shade ol the woods, and fi/r the L;ra\- lichen upon the bare rock, or the smooth bole of the beech, not less than for the lily and the rose. liven the uijlv and uiiinteresliiisj- fumjus. and small, has its place and its opportunity, li\ing- th( ;rcat ;h it c.oes, lilvC a hum, m sycophant and parasite, upon the bounty of )th otliers. snon''es, It IS certamh' a misnomer to call that sort of peoi )eoi)le tor spont^es m nature are an honest folk, and live ind us- trious and useful li\es. I'ut the fuiii^us eats what others have earned, and subsists by niakin;^' the world poorer. I think it somethin;< more than a mere t'ancy which discovers aloj^ies between ihe forms and habits of |)lant-Iife and the an (pialities of luiin.ni nature, or the experiences of human life. The unity of the woild miL;ht easily furnish i^rounds t'or an inner and deeper correspondence. We can easil)- suppose that there is one spirit in all and throut^di all ; that there is one type of architect ure, so to say, for the visible and the inxisible worlds. How many meanings might we gather from the whisperings of the winds through the leaves uf the trees! I low siyniticant THI': MOUNTAIN I'KINGi:. 37 If i i the voices of the \\(K)ds ! What jrni.idcr creation is there among- Nature's living things than the great forest-trees? Fatlier, thy liaiul llatli roared tlu'so venerable eoluiniis. tliou Didst \vea\ e this verdant roof. (irandeiir, stren^tii, and yraee, Are liere to speak ol tliee This nii<;lity oak — not a piinee In all tliat ))roiul land beyond the ileep. E'er wore his erown as loftily as he Wears the yreen eoronai of" leaves with whieii Thy hand has {graced liim. — Biynnl. How they typify the procession of human life in their grand niarcli, generation after generation, down, the coimtless centuries, far antedatint^ man's most venerable historic memory ! With men, as u ith trees, — Lol ail i^row old anil die. — but see ai;'ain How on the faiteiir.j;' footsti'ps of deeay ^'outil presses — ever^ay and beautiiul Youth, In all its beaiitirui loriiis. These lolly trees ^\'a\e not less piouilly tliat then- aneestors Moulder beneath them. Lil'e mocks the idle hate Ofiiis arch enemy Death — yea. seats irlmsell I'pon the tyrant's tiirone — the sepulchre. And of the triumphs of his jijhastly foe iNlakes his own nourishment. — Brycnif. The great trees! what an emblem are they of strength and rtured, manlv character, rooted stability in the comp: /ly in eternal righteousness, and growing upwarti antl ex|)aniling out- ward, evermore toward light and heaven. 3'S THI': MOIINIAIN I-RI.\f.F.. " With liis ^natlccl old iirms, aiul liis iron form, Majestic in tiu' wood. I'l'oni aijc to a<;(.', in sun -.hm] storm, Tiu' li\c-oai< loni.'' iiath stood. And tiu' L,a'ni:ra[ions come and yo. And still lu' stands npri^ht. And he sternly looks on the wood below. As eonseioiis ot his mi<;'ht.'" So stands a stroiio' life and a nohk' characlcM'. And it stands there iiiiinorlal. "Over such, Death halli no power." " Ik'inj.^ dead," in respect to this mortal form, "they )et speak." And such li\-es and such sotds arc siiade and siielter to the nudtitude of smaller li\es that onnv like flowers, or blades of jj^-rass, around and beneath, ['"or there are little and j^reat, in the world of men, as in the forest of trees. Hut I take note that the or,-eatest men, unlike what the poet has imaoined of the "onarled live-oak," do not "look sternly on the woods below." They look kindly down and around. The ;,S:- n ;V'^ ,/ .f ■ if ,T va' M. ^^ *j.. 1- ■ '"•>.- '!■ -rt't .... Vv - CS^ '§ % ■5, •i| ' f t .? "i 0- J® "l-'ii I •; I The Flower de Luce, (Larger Blue Flag.) IRIS I'll R S ICO LOR, L. THE RAINBOW. Triumphal arch, that tiU'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud pliilosophy T(j teach me wliat thou art. How <,'lorious is tiiy girdle cast O'er mountain, tower, and town, Or mirrored in the ocean vast, A thousand fathoms down. For, faithful to its sacred paffe, IIea\cn still rebuilds thy span; Nor lets the type grow pale with age. That first spoke peace to man. Campbell. Plutarch says the word lyis is from the Egyptian, and means "The Eye of Heaven." The Greeks named this phint from the Rainbow, which they called "Iris," in allusion to 4S THK FLOWKR DE LUCE. the niint;ling of brilliant colors in its blossom. Iris was also the goddess of the Rainbow, and the fair messenger of Juno, the latter being the goddess of the sky and clouds, and of the powers and phenomena of the air. Iris was sent to earth bearing messages of peace to the chil- dren of men ; she fdled the clouds with water from the lakes and sea, and poured it in gentle showers again upon the fertile ground. Antl she it was who bordered every retreating storm- cloud with the gorgeous fringe of the rainbow, a symbol of peace and ])lenty. Now ()\ iThcad, ;i rainliow. bursting' tliroiiLrli 'I'lic scattcrint;- clouds, slionc, spaiiiiiny tlic dark sea, Rostinn' its bri;;lit base on tlic (jiii\crin_<;; blue. — A lica\eiily cliamclei)ii, Till.' airy child of \apor ;iiid tiic sun. Brought I'ortli in purple, cradicil in xcrmilion, IJaplized ia molten rilliantly cohtred tlower- cui>, and slender pointed w horl ol ureen lea\es, is taniiliar to al |o\ers o f Nature's lloial uenis. anil .M It earlv attracted the attention of liotanists in this country, t by Mr, lohn lUrtrani, of I'hiladelphia, to dturist of London, nu)re than one hundred hulhs Wfre sen uler, a lainoiis tlorici \ears a-'o. No doubt, also, it was from one ^)\ iJertram's plants that the 'reat l.inn.rus nanu'd and descriliei tl le species. The Lilv has beiii inucii admired in all a_!.;es. ami has held a laii^e phice not only in literature and the svmbolism of rclii^ion, hut aho in armcri.il an 1 (h cor.Un e art. I'olessor Meehai 1 savs the n.uiie of the Lilv is ceiitemporaneous with histor\, haxiiii <■• hein Used I) V lb )iiK'i', and nieanii i!> "the most charming ot tlowers. lie. //7v. I'rofessor Wittstein I'lUt the modern, not the Homeric iiai lerive^ from the Celtic //, white, referrinj; to tiie color of the find that the poet has j^iven to tie ■st known siiecu W tiile we the Lilv the adoration of his heart and the lovin;; tribute of ids genius, m som and legend it is not to be denied tli.it it i- most commonlv the white Lil\ and not our ijorm'ouslv-colorei one, all I'ed and til, It has c.irried c.i pti\e the poet's soul, as he has told ill melodious \erse how the C^u )t' llu' lielil. in a milk-while m;mtlc drest. The l()\el\ I. il\- \\a\ I'll li T euihiiL;' cie^l. ll!]f| TIM' WILD ORANdl'KKD I.II.V. 59 Tlu' author, just lunv referred to, ([uaiiitly tells us how tlu: ancients j^ave to the Lily a miraculous origin, as, indeed, .ill do to-dav, except the eviilutionist, though not exactly by the same process as that I)elie\ed in by the (Ireeks. "It is said that .i very excellent yount^' goddess, S\l\i;i, who was as fair as she w.is t;'ood, had but a ])oor opinion ol jnpitt'r, who paid his addresses to her. Jupiter \\;is not .iccustonied to such rebuffs, and treated the fair lad\- rather roui;hl\ ; but sht: being much shocked at such rudeness, her nose took suddenly to hleedini;', and from a few drops which fell to the ground the red Lily spruuL; up. The while Lily is s.iid to \)c a later creation, and to have sprung- from the milk of Juno, and, we are sorry to say, when she was in a somewhat intoxicated condition from imbibiiii;- too freelv of nectar." " C'onsiderinj;- the more respect.ible oriijin of the red LiU," our autb.or further remarks, " it sei'Uis scarcely just that most of the best lily-poetry has been i;i\en to the while." Liver since 1 K\ who is called "The Lily of tlu' X'alley," s.iid, warninj;' men ai^ainst over-anxietv, " Consider the lilii's ot the ficKl, how thev i^row; they toil not, neither do tlu'y s])in ; \et I sa\- unto von that even Solomon in all his triors' was not arrayt'd like one of thesi'," the Lily has h.id ;i peculi.u- chaim and intert-st for the C'hristian. 1 L- has always seen in it not only the t'mblein of a dixine care, which rej^.irds the luhublest cre.ilion with thouL^htful solicitude, but also tinds it i'\er kt'epin;.^ memory ot One, who, though Kinj..; of Ilea\'en, found it no condescnsion to be a lover of fr;i!;rant Howers and tuneful birds. The Lily has loni;- been used as an emblem of the Iilessed Virgin Mary by the great church which achu'es her. 6o Tin: wii-i) oRA\c.r.-RKi) mly. • Sccst tliou lliat diadem bi-Mulini;' l"\v. As if niodoslly shumiiiif;- its hiMiity to show? Look at tliosc petals ol" silvery wliite. (iirl round wilii a iialo sliinin^ bri^iit. Tlial lilv i s lo\el\', nit l()\elier stil Betl ilelicin s A\'as tlie llowei- tliat blossomed And wiiite as the snow ihoiitih its petals are, hill; 'I'hat V in of \iiuins was laner lar. THE WILD CLEMATIS. l! ,.A^v^- ■''H '^' ■'«i. t >■ i , ;;« 3! , ' '^*- "^ft*-''.^ t ■. W ■if: ** . » it. rM 4*' ' { n.; ■fs> 4/' v; '''/ ■ ;'* >-"■" ^ " ,. "■ ■JTM \'' ^ The Wild Clematis ( Virgin's Bower.) CLiiM.rns rjRciM.iwi, l. Where tlic wooclland streamlets (low, (iiisliiiii^- tioun ii rcekv bed. W'iieie tlie lasselled alders ,l;i()\v, Liuflitly meeting,' ()\eiliead; When the liiilest Ainj^ust ilavs Ciive tile riehness that tliey know. Then the Wild Clematis eonies. With lier wealtli of tan^ljcl blooms. ReaehinL;- up ;ind ilroo]iinL;- low. Thk Wild Ci.kmatis, or \'ii-in's W^ss^r, is an attractive native vine, common in all our northern woodlands, especiallv hy the side of brooks and on river banks. It blooms in jidy and Auoust with an abundance of white, fra-rant llowers, and in the fall, when the seeds are ripened, their i)lumed tails, fine. Ion- and feathery, cover the branches with a -ray ,„ist, like paL smoke. If oathered at the ri-ht time, the seeds somewhat firndv 66 THK W 11.1) ( i.i:MAris. adhere to till- vine, .iik! thus it becomes a favorite, aloii_y: with autumn lea\es, tor interior decoration. 'The folia,i;v ol the i;ro\v- inj;- phmt, so tniely represcntic! in the i)late, is extremely L^racetul and l)eau titul. Ami lici- I'li'sli Icaxi's only >h;ulo Tiial wliich is within Iut Ixjwci Liko a i.uit:iiii, lightly niailc, Half to hide her \ ii^iii llower. /;. A', o. s o many curious and wonderful facts have reciMitly been dis- co\ered in re^aixl to the mo\ement and l)eha\ ior of plants, and especiallv, of climbing- plants, that I thi;ik I can L;ivc my readi'rs ater i)leasure than to make the Clematis the occasion for no (jre riefl V detailim mu; of th e mo re strikiu'' of them. h i^ col nmonlv thou-ht that there is an essential, rac Heal difference between the life of plants .and animals. "There are nd (li\-ersities of t;i'^^' ''^'^ ^''^" differences of ailmirdstrations, same spirit. Th c more closelv we o l)ser\'e the facts, and the mor •e deeply we push our in(|uiries int( the area na of life, the more difficult we hnd it to make any division which shall sepa- rate the two at all points. Indeed, we are constantly beins^^ pressed toward the conclusion that life i- one in all its lorms,— that it, th()Ui;h "Changed throuixh all. is yet in all the same; Lives through all life, extends throuuh all extent, Spie.ids undixided, operates uns]ient."' It was once th Olll dit that motion, or. at least, locomotion, was a distinctive mark of animal life. ISut in the micro-copic wor rid Till' WII.I) ( I.IMAIIS. 67 imuiiiRT.ihlc phuits arc found \\lii(li possess thr |io\\ir ot loco- inotioii ill a lii,L;h dci^rcr. And now w i' air assured thai aiiioiii;- the most hinlilv op^aiiized j^rowiiiL; pi. nits, motion, .'iid not list, is till' normal stati'. rrot'essor dray, Mr. I)ar\\iii, and others, ha\e made el.ihorat.; studiis nl' thi^ phase ot' i)|.nit lite, and unite in .issuriiiL; us that the stems anil hr.im hes of j^rowiiii^ phiiits, under the inllueiue of lii^hl and other \ ilal ixcitants, .ire const. iiitK in motion, desi rihiii;^ m.iiiy iorins of cur\es and angular figures in their movements. 'I lie motion is usu.dl\ \iry :h)\\, and ean he detected only as the motion of th( iiour h.md of a clock is, 1)V markiii!^' ils place at dihereiit times. ('liiiiI)iii,L; iil.uits illuslr.ite this powir ot motion in .1 more con- spicuous and reinaikalile way than .my other. Those' most notable for this (piality are the re|;ular twiners, sucli as the IIo|) and the Moriiin^-( dorv, and those which climb b\- me.ins of twiiiini;' tendrils, or leaf-stalks, as the I'assioiildow er and the Clematis. It h.is been observed tli.it il a rei^ular twiner be allowed to i;row up hi;.^her th.iii its support, tlv upptr joints will "lop over" and bend outward, liori/ontally, .ind then commence to swiii!^' around the point of last attachmen't, like the h.iiids of .1 clock; the end joints of .1 Hop plant, for inst.mce, were obseiA'ed to make no less than thirt\-sc\ en such rexolutions, at an a\er.i!^i' ol two .md .1 h.ilf hours for each. This is not caused by a twistini,'- of the stem of the plant, as mi;^lit be supposed, bir the joints would not be twisted more than two or three times, cwn .alter so man\- revolutions, .and in m.iiiN- plants the twistin-; is in a direction o[»posite to the motion. It h.is bc-eii iound that the revolviiiL,^ end iA the ])l.int actiialK' rolls owr as it swini^s around, so that what is the upper side when tlie i»lant is in one T ().S I 111 w II i> ( I i:\i.\ I IS. j)oint of tlic liick' will lir llir under sidi' when it is .it tlu* opposite |i(iiiit. Till- iiuinl)er ;iilil r.ile ol tile re\(iliitioiis ol' the trie I'lids ol iwiiiei-i !.;ri;illv \ aiv in dillereiit speiiis. 'I'liis ii'.uliiii!^ out .111(1 s\\ ini.;iii;4 .uoniid serves tlie purpose of t'llidini; .i suppoit to twine .iliout, il tliere is oiu' within tiie radius of its uidi'st possible liiile. If .it .ui\- point il impiiii.;cs as^ainst .ui object, like an up'ii^hl stick or stiinj;, of (ourse the motion is ariistid, but that part of the ^lowini; stein whiiii is beyond tlu' point ol eontael, eontinues to swinv; around .ind so coils up a'.out the luw support. It is said by the botanists that this "sw iiv^in;^- .iround the circle " of the twiner-> is cuised by the process of "growth i^oin^ on in the cells of the slim, r.ot on .ill sides siimill.nieousU', but on one side at a time. The rapid increase of tlu' cells of, we will sa\-, ihe north sidi' of the stem, while those on llu' south side rem.iin at rest, wmild ha\e the ifficl to make the stem loiij^er on th.il side th.m on the other, and bend it o\er tow.ird the south. Now if this i^rowlh process creips slowU around toward the iMst, tlu- stem will be slo\\l\- bent and lolled o\ir moii' and more toward the west, and, as the process continues cpiile around the plant, the extremity of the stem will be made to swini^ around throu;^h the whole compass of the circle. Il is exident that this swin^ini;- motion of the end of the stem must continue as lon^ as tlu- process of i^rowth ,m>es on, in the inteinodes, and must stop in rt's])ect to an\' i;i\en inlernock', when the L;rowth process stops in it. So we observe that consecuti\-el\-, joint atlcr joint, in the older paits of the pl.int, beconus stiff and immo\able, while the newer p. ills continue the motion. Iliil this exactly .id.ipls il lo the needs of tlu' situation, tor the s^rowiiii^ I III'. Willi ( I i \1AIIS. ()(1 AUil the motion cnahlc it to twine and (limh, and llic stit't'ciiim^'- o| tile intciiiodfs at last Urtps it in plaic as it is wound closely al>out its support. 1 lie trndril and leaf t liinhcis have those organs endowed with a sensili\( iiess or initahiiity whiiii causes \\\r tendiii or the petiole ol the leal to wind alioul aii\ small olijcit which it is made to he in (niitact with tor ,iii\ ( ousidi laMe lenv;tli of time. 'I'lie end ol' the stem ot sonu- of the le.if (lindxis, the Clematis, tor ex.imple, has tlii power of lotalois motion, like the trui' twini'is. ihe sensitive leases and tendrils of all ha\e this power in a marked de,L;ree. When a tendiil. r.achinn "'''• and swinj^inj^' around, comes in contact with some small object, it directly winds about it three or tour times, and then be!.;ins to coil up from the middle, the coils runnin;.; both wa\s, in ojipositc directions, thus compcnsatin!^ for each other, and not twisting; the tendril otf. 'I'his has the elfect to draw the stem uj) ne.ir its support, and, at the same time, to fasten it by what is m etfec t an elastic cord, 'i'lu' coiled tendril is like a coiled wire sprinj;, which allows the stem to have considerable' lateral motion under the |)ressure ot th.e wind, or other force, and yet sidfers no injury itsell, 1)\- straining or bi-eakinu;, as it would if it remained a straii^ht, " taut " strini.(. A remarkably curious fact is thus noted l)\- Di'. (Iray: "In riAoKin:.;- tendrils the most wonderful thint;- to remark is the wa\- in which they avoid windin;.;- themsehes around the stem thev belou!.; to. The acti\e tendrils are, of coiiise, ne.ir the top of the stem or branch. The s^rowini; summit beyond the tendiil, now seekiiiL;' a support, is often turned o\ei- to one side, so that the tendril, re\ol\ Iiil;- almost hori/.ontall\-, has a cle^u' sw.ep above \M 'ft-' 70 nii: will) ci.iMAiis. it. Hut as the •jrouini;- stem Iciiijtlu'iis ami rises, the tendril niiuiiu striki' against it am woiiml u\) aroumi it. It ne\er does. It" w e \\a teh tile sK'mlei- rassion-I'low tT, which shows the re\(>l\iii!4 so well in a sulti'v day, we nias' see, with womKi', that when a tiiuliil, sweipini^' hori./.oiitally, eonies aiound so that its base neais the parent sleni ri^ini; ahovi' it, it slops short, rises stit'lly uipecl dilleriii!. irom the tendiils c f the ass ion-!' lower. I lescribed abo\i\ for thev will freip'.ntly 1 )e found coiled lii^hlh' I'ound llu- other branches or lea\is ot the and beautiful plant when .ireiit •-tern. It is an interestiu'. piowimj, and not Uss so when matured and ripeiiei for, rill': will) t i.i'MAiis. 71 Wlicn tlu- iiiitiimn days an- Iumc, Ami till.- wootls (it" autumn Inirn, 'riK'ii lu-r KaNos an- black aiul sere, {^lick witli iMily tVdsts to turn! As till' n'dlilfii suninicr ilit's, So luT silk\- urcon lias lli-il, And the smoky i'lusti.Ms rise As tVom tiiL's ot" satiitici.', — Sacri'd inecnso to the tload ! I). R. a. ^1 Tin: SWAMP rosp: r t rr^ The Swamp Rose, A'O.S./ C./A'O/J.V./. /,. While wc iinnkr tlu' wiratlK'd s|inii^, Kcsplciulcnt Rosi', to tlac wi'll siiil;; l^i'spli'iulcnt Rosi', tlio lliiwrr dt tlnwtrs. W'hoNL- hiL'iitli perfumes Olympus' howi'is; Whose \iii;iii Musii, ol ehasteii'd il\e, I'juhaiits ^o mueh onr mortal e\e; Olt has the jioet's maL;ie toiinue 'l"he Rose's tair luxiiriaiiee sunn; Aiul loni;' the Muses, hea\enl\' maids, Ilaxe reaied it in tiieir tunel'id shailes. When, at the i.'aily i^lanee ol' morn, it sleeps u|ion the ylisteniun thoni. "Tis swi'et to dare the tanLiletl lenee. 'l"o eull the timid lloweiet tlu'nee. Ant! wipe, witli tendei haiui. away The teai' that on it^ Mushes la\ I 'Tis sweet to holi! the inlanl stems, ^'et drippinu- with Auroia's L;ems, And fresh iniiale the spie\' siqhs That troiii the weepini; luiils arise. .liidcrcoii. 'fT" 78 Till' su.wii' uosi: W'l ha\c two wilil idM's, (|iiitr widely, I mi_u;lit s;i\' almost uni\ iTs.ilK , (li^ti il)iitt(l in this (i)iiiiti\, i.isl ol tli; Mi sMs^ll)|)| Kl\ fl-. ( )iic i^ II, lined .d)o\e, .iiid the othir i-> ihi l)w,iit' Wild l\o>e lie 1. liter is llu' more tr.i''r.iiit, luil is in no ollu i' sense the nv.il ot tlu other. I w Sw.im ]) Rose dilteis lioin its sm.illei' eomp.inioii, not onlv in its ^re.iter si/c, hut in li.i\in;^ the niuh'r side ol its le,i\es ot .m asluni^r.iN lolor, while the n|)|)er is .1 l)rilli,int i^ieeii, .ind .ilso in h.i\in;^ thi idedl\ hooked spines, or tlioiiis, whili' those ot' the l)warl Rose .ue straii^^ht. It Lfrows to .1 hei''ht ol tour to si\ Kit, pener.ilK on low h. )f human re''.ird .is the K .n.it'ieon eould write two thousand live hundred wars a;.',o of tlie poets then .uuieiit to him, - '•()it ii.iN till- i'oel's inaii:ie tMHL;iU' Tiu' Rii>c's lair luMiriaiiee sunt;." cert.iinly we ou!.;ht to be able to rmd xolumes of rosi' poetr\- in our larijer inluritance from th iiL^thenint^' a^es oi the past. And we mav. In soni;' and U'L;end, in politit.d association and social and reliijious rite, the Rose has an abundant histoiA'. It was cullnalei and admired in r>ab\ Ion and erus.iiem mure than a thousaiul \ears before the ChristicUi era. Homer Till' SWAMP uosr. 79 uses its hiilliant rolois to paint the pietiiro (>( tin- risin_!4- tiiij^iTs of losis. and inrtiimcs tiu' air with tlusr tlowci^. I lie i\osi' was (•oiisctratci! to Aurora, or tiic MorniiiL;, and aUo to I Iai|io( ratc^, tiic patron ot silence, ol wiiieii it is consiilered th<' s\inl)o|. lleiuc .iidse the eNpression, s///> iv<(i, under the rose, wliiih siiinities th,it all thini^s said unde'r tli.it h.m should he held .is priv.ite, and not to he repe.ited. It w.is a not inlre(|uent eustoin to snspend a rose over the tahle in the h.iiKpntiu!.; h.ill, to remind the i^uests that all uttcrantx's tlu're should i)e considered sii(> j'l'^it. 'Idle niir.iculous and divine orii^in ol the Rose is repri'sented in many laMes of the mythole;Jes. 'llu' most sij^niiie.ml is, perh;i]is, tlu' (ollowiiin-, for it shows how nuieh the (irLcks must h.i\e pri/'d ;md .ulmind a llower wliivh tlie\' called in tin- whoK' court of IIea\('n to help cre.ite. A f.ixorite Wniph of I'lor.i's r()\al tr.iin, whose ran' beauty w.is ccpi.dled (iid\ li\- her purit\' and i;o()dness, was one day found de.id. The ' hieen of Idowers theri'upon solieited the aid of .all the Ohmpic deitie> to ch.ui!.;e the "inanimate clay" into a llower which should iitl\- ci.mmemor.ite on earth ;i dixinc creature so sweet .md beautiful. So A])ollo lent the life-i^ix inj^ power of his bt.ims, Ilaichus bathed li m nectar, X'ertumnus _i;;i\e it perfume, while his wife, i'omona, added fruit. Flor.i herself _i;a\e it its diadem of llowers, and called it a Rose. The (ireeks were ne\er forgetful of I'lora's wish to ha\c this beautiful creation of her tinder lo\c ;md hei' consummate skill considered and honortil as thj (Jueen of Flowers. And I conless I do not think Nature has e\er, liefore or since, produced a plant which could successfully dispute the loval title with the Rose. m IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V /. :/. f/. V] <^ /^ ^;. '* <* ^ ^> *,\^\ ^%^ <^.,/^^ '^^^ '^^ I i/x % I \ T'^ 80 THF. SWAMP ROSE. There is a straiisji-e, thoui^^h probably an unintentional sng'- j:^esti\L'ncss in this old fable, which i;ives \'ertuninus and Pomona both a hand in its creation, in the fact that the Rose belons^s and gi\es its name to that order of plants which fur- nishes us with all our common fruits, from the apple and i)ear to the raspberry and plum. The presence of thorns on the Rose tree, which has ^iven rise to the pro\'erb, " No rose without its thorn," is accounted for in different wa\s in the ancient authors and lei;ends. Basil, a theoiot;ian of the early Cdiristian centuries, savs it is :i result of the fall of man, and the corruption o{ the world bv the human race. A jjoet has put the same though': in a more fanciful shape, in tellir'g how, when H\e sought to come at the tree of the forbidden fruit, she ruth!e-sly trampled on the Rose, which, with other jilants, fenced the sacred tree about, and, at this violence, and on account of its sense of shame at ILve's conduct, " Tlu' nativt. wliitc its petals left, \\'liicli. blusliiiiL;-, tuiiioil to red." This accounts .also for the co1(M- and true Ijeautv of the Rose, and to many will be, at least, some compensation for the unfortunate j)erformance of our respected maternal ancestor. Hut the thorns came by the same cause, for, " V.w tliis e\ciit ot' sill ami sliamo, Xo inickly thdnis were touml: I>ut now they hurst Ironi e\ei\' stem. Ami witii the rose abouiui." Another poet has gixen a still more poetical, and quite as I i rilF. SWAMP Rosr.. 8i probable, reason for tlic thorns and the brilliant red of the Rose, in the following legend. CLii)id, eoniing along one bright morning, found a splendid white rose, which he stood ga/.ing upon with rapturous delight. IJut, as the tlower itself relates, unknown to him, " It chaiK'L'd a lico was \)\\s\- there, SeareliiiiLi' '•"" i'^ tra^raiil lai\-; ^\iul L'upid, st(}()piii;4- ti)(). to sip, 'I'lie anL;i-\- insect sIuiil;- his \'\\t — Ami giishiiit;' ti'diii tlie amlirosial eell. One biiniil tlroji on mv bosom fell I AX'eepin^, to iiis mother lie 'J'oid the tale ol" treaehei'\' ; And she her \en!4-el\d lio\- to please, Struntj his bow with captive liees; Hut )ilaced upon ni}' slender stem The ]ioisonetl stiii','- she plucked from them: And none, siiice that eventful morn, IIa\e toiuul the llower without a thorn." Since the earliest times, Roses have been used in social fetes antl festivals, for crowns and garlatids ; in religious rites for decorating the altars, shrines, and images of the gods; and in funeral ceremonies, and memorial serxices, by bi'ing scattered freely upon the coffin, or planted bv the gra\-e, and in after vears heaped upon the monument or wreathed about the urn holding the precious dust. Tiins .ire we but re\i\'ing an old, ohl custom, when we with re\'erenl hand jjlace a wrtath upon the resting-place of our " Martvred Diad " on " Decor.ition I)a\-," or when we pay the tribute i^( priwite griif to (Uparted Icned ones by bringing garhinds of fragrant flowers to lay upon the green sod above their still forms. ff^:^ I 1 82 THF, SWAMP ROSE. "RriniT flowers ji crown tlic cup and lute, — liriiiLT llowiM's — the bride is near; Briiii;' tlowers to soothe tiie ca|Ui\e"s cell, BriiiLC flowers to strew tiie bier!" The Rose has s^nven its name to one of the saered titcnsils of the Roman Cliiirch, the rosary, which is specially dedicated to the X'iroin Mary, each of the small beads markini^^ an .7rr Afnria, and each of the laroe ones a Pafci' Nostcr recited. The name is supposed to have come from the fact that the X'irs^in is often called the rosa iiiys/iai, or "Mystic Rose" of the Church. '•Our Lady of tiie Rosary! W'liat name can be so sweet. As what we call thee when we place Our chaplets at thy teet." She is also called " Saint Mary of the Rose." First, take tliese crimson roses, How red tiieir petals jijow! Red as tlie blood of Jesus. Which heals our sin and woe. See in each heart of crimson A deeper crimson shine! So in the foldings of our hearts Should glow a love divine. Adelaide Proctor. The political, economical, and medicinal history of the Rose, woidd each make a chapter of itself. In the days of chivalry the eallant kni'dits often decorated their shields or helmets with roses, "implving that sweetness should always be the companion HH SWA.Ml' ROSE. 83 of courage, and that beauty was tin; only prize worthy of valor. " The "Wars of the Roses," so called, make one of the blood- iest and s iddest pages of Hnglish history. The Count of Hgniont, the foumler of the House of Lancaster, as early as 1277 adopted for his heraldic dexice the Red Ivose, which Thibaut, Count of Hrie, a French nobleman, had brought home with him from Syria, in the wars of the Crusades. It may have been a Uamask Rose, which is a nati\e of Damascus, and, therefore, of Syria. The House of York had atlopted the White Rose for its heraldic emblem, and the thirty years of civil war between the powerful factions contending for the crown, drenched Kngland with the best blood of the realm. Nor was the sanguinary strife ended until the two rival houses were united in (Mie by the marriage of Henry \TI. with Iilizal)eth of \'ork, and the Tudor sovereigns took as their badge a Rose, half red, half white, emblematical of the union of the rival houses. This has continued to be the recognized emblem of England in the same way that the Thistle and Shamrock (probably the w ootl-sorrel, not the clover) have been dedicated to Scotland and Ireland, respectively. Many almost incredible stoiies are told of the extravagant luxury and magniticence of the Roman emperors and other eastern despots, in connection with the use and cultivation of the Rose, -of the profuse, almost lioundless, emi)loynient of them in ministering to their pleasure and luxuriousness. Some ot them are said to have slept on pillows of rose-lea\es. And it is related that Cleopatra, in a feast given to Mark Antony and his friends, one day had the th)or of the bancpieting hall bedded in roses a foot and a half deep, ard held down by a fine net- l':''!l i; '1 ' ti 'r— 84 Till': SWAM I' KOSIC. work, so that the company walked upon them, a most costly and Iraj^rant car[)et. Nero, at a sins^le feast, given at Bala-, spent one hundred thousanil dollars on roses alone. The ability to command such a threat supply of these ijeautiful l)Ut short" lived ilowers implies that a i^reat deal of Labor and skill was expended in the cidlivation of them, ind that immense gardens and great fields were devoted to their growth in the neighbor- hood of the capitals and centres of civilization of the ancient world. Of the (iolden Rose, which it was the custom for the pope to send to the most wise or virtuous prince among all who held allegiance to the church, — of the attar of roses, the most delicate, precious, and costly perfume known to the arts, of the manner of making it, and of the great prices paid for it, — and of many other such things 1 must not take the space to write. l)Ut of the sentimental symbolism of the Rose, I must be permitted just to make mention in closing. I'rom time immemorial it has been dedicated to the strongest ami noblest passion which dwells in the human heart, Love, — and it is everywhere reckoned the fittest emblem of a fair and virtuous maidenhood, at once the object and the shrine of the tenderest and purest love. 'I'lic Rose is fairest wlicii 'tis biiddin<^ new, Ami Hope is liriLrhtest wlu'ii it dawns Ironi fears: The Rose is sweetest wasiied \\ itii niorninif dew, And I^()\e is loNcdicst wiicn embalmed in tears. Scotl. THi: swA.Mr Kosi:. Dear Hovvor ol llcavon and Love! tlK)U ylorious tliinr().ul wliito lilirs lie trcniulously. Ami st;iiT\ ri\ (.■r-lnuls ^iilnmc'r by. And around thcni the sntt stream dotli glide and dance With a motion ol' sweet sound anil radiance." The species is widelv dislrilnited in this country, and is a universal favorite with all classes. It certainly deserves all the admiration it receives, for it is not easy to ima,o;inc a tlower which combines any rarer charms of form and fras^rance than are found in this tloral Nymph. Althouoh it seldom departs from its tv])ical coU)r of pure white, inclosino' the o()l(lcn yellow, or as Sir Walter Scott describes it growing- in Loch Katrine, — " The w.'iter lily to the liijiit lier eliaiice reared ol' silver briirlit," yet, she sometimes, in this country, deigns to paint her fair face with a blush of delicate pink. The ponds and lakes of Cape Cod, and esi)eci;illy those about Falmouth, Massachusetts, are famous for these strange blossoms of the Water Lily, which seem to have caught some of the glow of the rosy morn upon the pure white of their expanded petals. There are few flowers, native to our fields and forests, which 1 1 THE WAIIIK I.ILY. 93 make a longer season of it with their blooming than the Water Lily. Says Colonel lligginson, an observer of rare aeeu- racy, speakin,L( of the Mountain Laurel and the Water Lily: "At the same time with this royalty of the woods, the cjueen of the water ascends her throne, for a reii^n as undisputed and far more prolonged. The extremes of the Water Lily in the \iein- ity of Boston, so far as I have known, are the iSth of June and the 13th of October, — a Ioniser ranye than belons^^s to any other conspicuous wild flower, unless we except the Dandelion and the Houstonia." The Water Lily is always associated with thoui^hts of cool and shady streams, and wood-bordered lakes, which, in glassy stillness, embosom in their depths a world of sky and clouds. Oil, heautiful tliou art, Tlioii sciilpturc-likc aiul stately Rivor-quccii! Crowning llio di'pths, as with the liglit serene, Ola pure Iieart. Hri^rht lily of the \va\ e! Rising in tearless grace uitii every swell, Thou seem'st as if a spirit nieeklv brave. Dwelt in tli\ eeil. Lilting alike tiiy iiead Of" placid beauty, I'eniinine. \et iVce, Whether with foam or pictured a/ure spread, The waters be. The Water Lily comes of a noble family, a family which can boast the classical and sacreil Lotus of the storietl Nile, and the royal and gigantic I'ictofia n-gia of the lordly Amazon, among If 94 THK WATER LILY. i I its scions. Yet this ocntle flower has a humijle spirit; and, like a human soul which is both pure and wise, is content to rest upon the low level of its api)ointed place, and contribute only beauty and sweetness to the wt)rld's s^reat treasury of i;ood. Thou.nh the Water Lily is not named in the following;- lines from Hryant, who was more truly nature's poet than any Mnt^lish- SDeakine writer, sa\e Wordsworth, yet we cannot be mistaken in assumini;" that the "snow-white flower" which the "innocent child" heUl in its h.unl as the Attest emblem of its innocency was a white Water Lily. Inn(n.H'iit child and snow-white (lower! Well are \e ]iaired in Nour ojieninL; hour. Thus should the pure ami the lo\el}' meet. — Stainless u ith stainless, and sweet with sweet. • White as those leaves, just blown a]iart; Are the folds of thy own youn in tlu' j.;ar(len, whose time of ojjenini;' siunild mark the hours of the (la\. Thoui^h, perhaps, they would not keep time to the fraction of a minute, \'et, '•'Twii^ a l()\i'l\- tli(itiL;lit to iiiaik tlie Ikuiis, As tliey lldated in Hli'Iu away. My the opL'iiiiii;- ami tlu- liiidiiiL; llowcis. That hiiiL;ii to the summer's tlay." There is a law which governs the vearlv hlootuin;^ of the plants, which is cpiite as orderly as that which assigns to them the hour of the day when they shall open and shut their bril- liant eyes. Most careful botanists are acipiainted with this h.ibit of the pl.'uits which they study. Emerson says th.it Tho- ri'au " thoui;ht th.it if w.iked up from ;i trance in a Concord swam]), he could tell by the plants wh.it time of year it w;is within two d.iys." No doubt he could, for hv was ;i close observer of Nature's habits, and he had found out that what is lawless confusion to the uninstructed, is but ;in orderlv profusion to him who is acipiainted with the almost startlini;- exactness of Nature's ])rocesses. That day as they walked, Kmerson says: "lie looked for Mciiyaiitlics, ' lUick bean,' detected it across the wide pool, and on examination of the florets, decided that it had been in Howcr five days. He drew out of his breast-pocket his diary, and read •rill MOCCASIN I LOW I' U. lOI the names of all tin- plants that should hlooin on this day. whereof ill' kc'i»l account, as a hanker v lun his notes tall due; 'The Cypripi'diuni not due till tn morrow.' " '"'ro-niorrow ' in llusc parts," says 1 liLjy^inson, "means about the 20tli ol' May. it Itilon^s," he continues, "to the laniily <>l Orchids, a hii^^h-hriil race, fastidious in habits, sc'usitivc: as to • ihodcs." Most Orchids :uv rare' in our N'ortlurn Idora, .md Mt. he observes, as most who hase leathered these (harming; plants must ha\-e often fell, that e\en this species, as abundant as it i>, " ret.iins the family trails in its jjcrson, and nextr loses it-, high- born air. and its delicate scininj;. 1 know a i^rove ^ here it can be ^.ithered by the hundreds, within a h.df-.;cri', and \-el I can never divest myself of the feelin-' that each specimen is a choice no\-eUv." it certainly is choice, if it is not .i noxclty. It throws in both dry and damj) woods, under evergreens and deciduous trees alike. I h.ive found it plentiful in all these situations, about Taunton, Massachusetts; and my memory ol its rare cb.arms, as I leathered it by the streams on the northern spur of the Alle-hany Mountains, in Western reimsylvania. in my boyhood days, now more than thirty years as^o, is as tredi and deli;-e, t^ay!) -colored, pendant l)an-, which makes the most conspicuous ])art of the flower, is opened with a narrow- slit down the front, and the edges of the opening are turned inward. This forms a regular trap, easy to get into, but cpiite impossible to get out of, at least by the same door. The " busy bee," searching for toothsome morsels, easily penetrates to the interior of this floral sack through the narrow open door. TIIIC MOCCASIN FI.OWT'R. lO. Once in, and satisfied, he looks al)out liini tor a way out. lie funis it at last, hut not by the wav he came in. At the toj) of the tlower, on either side of the "Cdluinn," he tuids a ])assa_i;e into the open air, (|uite wide enoui^h for a small hut eiiterprisinn- bee to push his way through. In doint;' this, ho\\c\cr, he brushes ai^ainst, and fre([uently carries away upon his hairy sides or hack, the stickv pollen mass of the open anthers. Now, if he enters another fl;)\\cr of the same s])ecies, as he will he very likely to do, and in due time m;d-;es his exit through the only o])cn door, he will certaiidy i;et some of this pollen on the stii^Muatic surface of that flower, and fertilize it. For the stij^nia is covered with minute papill.e, like the teeth of a hetchel, which project forward, and the pollen is effectually ctMubed oft him as he i^'oes by. Notwithstanding this elaborate coniriwuicc for fertilization, and this curious adaptation of means to that end, it remains true, as we are assured 1)V !.;-ood ol^scrxers, that few plants are e\er fertile, they bcins.;' chiefl)' propagated by the roc^t, which keeps its life from vear to vear. This has, apparently, not been a fiuorite with tb.e poets. Only one American sont^ster has chanted its praises, so far as I know, and she has, I am j^lad to see, devoted her youn;.;- muse mostly to our l)eautiful wild tlowers. ^'et sliy ami jiroud ainoiii;- the Uiwsi tlciwei>. In niaidcn soliliulc. Is one wlujsc eharni is ik'nct wliolly ours. Nor \ icldcil to our luooil; One true-horu lilossmii, native to our skies, We dare not claini as kiii. — Nor frankh' seek lor all that in it lies, Tlie Indian's Moeeasiii. 1.' I : I i: 104 THli; MOCCASIN FLOVVKR. Graceful and tall the slender drooping stem, With the liroad leaves below. Shapely the tlower sc, lightly poised between, And warm her rosy glow; Yet loneliest rock-strewn haunts are all her bent; She heeds no soft apjieaK And they alone who dare a rude ascent, 1 k i- eijual charm may feel. For liLihtlv e\er falls the tireless foot. That's only shod with tlowers! No lagging step outruns the liappy days. — Our tread is soft as rain; With careless joy we tread the woodland ways, And reach her broad domain. Thro' sense of strength and beauty, free as air. AVe fee! our savage kin. — And thus alone, with conscious meaning, wear The Indian's Moccasin! JShuiic Goodale. 'hi: Ji : 1-1 ; THE ARROW-LEAVED VIOLET. n r I II ^' ■ 'i'?»;-' X '> A' )t ;l I I i 'I 1 !' TFIE Arrow-Leaved Violet. VIOLA SAGn\n\L Ait. Wlieii lu'cchoii buds hc^in to swell, And woods tlic bliK-bird's warble know, Tlio little violet's modest bell Peeps from the last year's leaves below. Ere russet fields their (jreen resume, Sweet flower, I lo\ e. in forest bare. To meet thee, when thy liiint perfume Alone is in the virgin air. Oft in the sunless April day, Thv early smile has st.iyed my walk; But midst the gorgeous blooms of May, I jiassed tiiee on thy humble stalk. So they who elimb to wealth forget Tiie friends in darker Ibrtunes tried. I copied them — but I regret That I should ape the ways of pride. And when again the genial hour Awakes the painted tribes ot' light, I'll not o'erlotik the modest ilower That made the woods of April bright. Bryant. If' 11 ■t I 1 ro IIIU AKKOW 1.1;A\ I'D M()Li:r. 1 1' all llowcrs arc thus, thought-awakcncrs to the thoiij^rhtful, there must he a peeuliar charm of this sort in the X'iolet. Poor era/ed Ophelia, oft'erinij^ to Laertes, one by one, the llowers of her wayside i^atherin-^', says, — "Tlu'io is ]iaiisii's, that's for thoUL'lits." I'ansies and this idea of thou-ht must hav- i^ot wedded earlw lor Ophelia's phrase only translates into I'ni^lish the nii'anin,-; of the name which is doid)tless derived from the I-reneh word, />f//S(r, thoii_<;hl. I. Ill pansies are oidy civilized and cidtivated violets,- I'iola tricolor,- viokts whose environments have been made more favorable to the development of possible beauties, and show what cidtivation can do in improving- wild nature. That the pansy and other violets should have been sui.;-t;estive of th()ui;ht, or thou_nhtfulness, is by no means a wonder to inc. Indeed, I can hardly see how the modest w a\- it has of han.L;inj,^ down its head, in a cpnet, thoughtful, pensive fashion, coidd ha\-e suggested any other association to the mind of a reflective obserxer. "I would give you some violets," Ophelia savs, "but they withered all, when my father died;" which gives us a hint of another association connected with the \iolet. It was early consecrated alike in rural life and portic imagery to the memory of the departed. In the language of Howers, .Shakespeare assures us, "The \-iolet is for faithfidm-ss ; " there being, I suppose, some connection between that cpiality and its "true blue" color. It was adojjted by the I)onaparles as their family endjiem, perhaps on account of this sigiuticance. 'I he modest}, as well as the beauts', of this charmini>- surins'' Tin: ARk()\V-I.i:A\ 1.1) XIOIJ'IT. 1 1 1 wild flower, has m;ulr it a tavoiitt' with llu poets, ever since Homer wrote of it, as he had seen it many a time in the I'ar-oll vale, upon the "rushy banks" of the Meles. *• I'",\ (.'lyvs licrc appeared Meadows (irsolU'sl \enliii'e. purpKil o'er Willi \ iolets. It was a seeiie to till A l;ih1 Iroiu llea\eii with woiulei' aiul tleli^lit.'' If tiiere are no " \ioiets blue," or other ilowers in heawn, I j^reatly wonder how the i;ods, or anybod)- else, can be Inni;' eon- tent there. Truly we may expect the Christian's liLaxin to be radiant ami fragrant with a wealth of llowrrs, for was not He who is the "Kino' of Ilea\eii" passionately fond of Ilowers when on earth he made his home, teaching from them man)' a sweet lesson of trust and patience? And is lie not called in the " Iilder Scriptures" "The Rose of Sharon ' and " d'he Lily of the Valleys " ? The Wild X'iolet of KnL;land and the continent of liurope, which is the theme and admiration of so many poets, differs from our own by jjossessini^ a most exipiisite fragrance, as our I'^noiish oardcn \iolets, I 'io/d odofafa, will abundantly demon- strate. The comparison which the Duke makes in "Twelfth Nioht," between soft music and the south wind laih'U with the fraorance of \iolets, makes mention in a sufticiently poetical way of this attribute of the lh)Wer. '■ () it canie o'er my ear like tlie sweet south. 'I'hat breathes upon a bank ot \ iolets, StealiiiL;' aiv.l ^iviiit;- odor." This — as well .is its color, form, and modest Ijearinjj^ — has charmetl the appreciative senses and won the susceptible hearts of all true poets. ' !! ' rrr' 5 iii 1111' ais. Deli^litriii How lilts I at till' \oiic ot'sjiriiilaii' birds sliall siii^', Ami iVom your ilustiTiiiL; leaves llu' ylow-w oim llini;- 'I'lir emeialil ,L;lor\ ot'liis iMitli-boiii lij;lit. />(ir/oii. Tlioijoh till' (klicate hhic has so loiio been iviooiii/.L'd as tlic characteristic cohir ol these thiwers, — " Blue, blue as it" the sky let tall A llo\ser Iroiii it> eerulean wall" — tiiat it has cn'cii o;i\cii the nanie to thi' most refrangible ray of tlic sohir siiectriiin, the extreme l)lue or xiolet liohl ; \et the tfaditioii runs that the flower was orioiiially wiiite, as se\eral species of it are now. Indeed, our oidy nati\e xiolet which has any noticeable fra_L;ratice, is a white one. Shakes[)eare has preserved to us a form of the les^U'iid whicli tells how this white llower came to be jmrple as it is, in tlu' well-known lines from "Midsummer Nioht's Dream," the last ol which only shall we be able to make room for here. It seems that Cupid once h;id hostile intentions towards "A lair \estal throned by the West," — nil AUKOW 1 I \\ I I) \ lol.I'T. U3 supposi-d to li;ivi' liicii tamoiis " ( jiucn Hl-ss," of I iiij^f land's "Sea- girt Isk'," who, lor reasons not lar to liml, tlioiii;li perhaps not fair to mention, was not an inspirer ol the tender passion to any ^reat extent, nor inmh susceptihh' to it, either. Heini; "all armed" one ni-hl, the little j^od drew sui h a bow as that it mi,i;ht, ( )l)eron says, " have piereed an luindri'd thousand hearts." lint his aim was poor, or the " fair vestal " was arnuMed with tloid)le-plated steel, lor unharmed "'i'he iinpi'iiiil vntari-ss passed on 111 niaiilen inedilatioii, tancv Irec." 1 I Obcron continues : " \\'t inarki'd ! wlnTf tlic bull nt' L'lqiid tell: U tell iiiiDn a little western llowef, Hetiire milk-white; ikiw |nir|)le with l(ivi'"s woiiiui. Ami maiden-^ eall it " love-in-idleness.' I'eteh me that llower; the herb I showi'd thee onec; 'J'he juice ol' it on sleeping' eyelids laid. Will make or m.iii or woman madly dote I'pon the next li\e ereature that it sees." It wrouoht a most absuinl eharm upon spriohtly Oucen 'I ita- nia, in that fairv world fd" dreams. lUit it has not ceased, even to this time, to have a eharm, whii h it can easily cast over the hearts of Nature's worshippers, who t^o about seekini.;- shrines in woodland and field, by mountain and river. 1 ihiidv no one reared in the country will ever have the memories of sprint;- randjles throuoh the woods and pastures, in childhood, disassociated from the "blue violets." They were everywhere beneath our feet. We could always find them, and never too manv of them. Who does not also remember a : ■ i ' 'i 114 Till': akkou-i.i:avi,I) vioi.i' r. i^amc of this sort with tliciii. ("alliii}; them "roosters," \vc u'ouhl hjck tiicir iicads toi;cthcr by tlic projecting' spur into which tlie h)\\er petal is extended, inc! then pull away until one or the other of the heads tlew o;l, — the one whose head stayed on bein;^- of course the \ ietor in the contest. It always seemed to me a cruel way to treat these innocent little thint^s, for I always had a feelin;^' that somehow there was sensitix'e life in them. I)Ut after takini.; our iill of this lloral cock-lis.j;hting', there were always enough \iolets left to fdl our hands, as we trutlged away home. Ik-fore we turn away from the poet to find out what the naturalist has to say for tliis beautiful ilower, which is the delight of childhood and old age alike, we must not miss those tender and ])laintive lines, in which Wordsworth twines in an immortal wreath the memory of modest \irtue with the modest violet. .She (Iwch anioiii;- the uiUr;xltk'ii \\a\s fk'sitlc tlu' spriiii,'s