44 



THE GUIDE TO NATURE. 



The two species of yellow lady's slip- 

 per are more choice and rarer than the 

 purple. The} - are so closely similar ex- 

 cept in the same size of flower, that 

 some suppose them to be but variations 

 of the same plant. They are found in 

 low woods or in bogs, where to approach 

 them one may have to wade through dark 

 water and black mud, up to his knees. 

 They do not actually grow in water, but 

 often have these uncanny surroundings. 

 This, in one way,, is fortunate, as it 

 tends to preserve two of our loveliest 

 plants. 



The smaller one, Cypripedium parvi- 

 floruni, grows a foot or two in height, 

 and has oval, acute leaves, alternately 

 disposed on the stem. The lip or slipper 

 is over an inch in length, almost glossy 



yellow, and, instead of being slit in front, 

 is a well-closed bag. The sepals are 

 ovate, — or approaching lanceolate. The 

 flowers are fragrant. 



Cypripedium pubescens is a pale yel- 

 low, grows fully two feet in height, and 

 is soft-hairy, where the other species are 

 smoother. The sepals and petals, too, 

 have less of a brown purple color, and 

 the lip is laterally flattened. Both spe- 

 cies have about the same range, that is 

 from Newfoundland to Georgia and west 

 to Minnesota and Kansas.. Both of 

 these are supremely beautiful plants, and 

 he who finds them on some red-letter 

 day, is well aware that he has secured a 

 treasure. Like Cypripedium acaule, the 

 stemless or purple species, they are eas- 

 ily cultivated. 



The garden, floriculture, domestic plants, suggestions for "the grounds beautiful," inexpen- 

 sive greenhouses, gardens for young folks, hobby houses in the back yard, etc. 



GROWING MILLINERY I> THE BACK 

 YARD. 



It was a sunny forenoon in the latter 

 part of May. I was weeding the flower 

 bed by the fence next to the road. 



I stopped and looked up as I heard the 

 voice of an Aged Resident say cheerily, 

 "I thought you were a naturalist, but I 

 see you have turned horticulturist. 

 What's the matter? Isn't there as much 

 money in the bug business as there used 

 to be?" 



"Wrong you are, again." I said. "I 

 haven't turned horticulturist; I've be- 

 come a milliner." 



"Milliner!" he shouted in astonishment. 

 "You are a queer one. I've sometimes 

 thought a naturalist is a little 'off.' but 

 I shall think so more than ever if you 

 don't explain what in the name of thun- 

 der that bed of plants has got to do with 

 women's hats." 



He leaned against the fence in a way 

 that showed he was determined to get 



an explanation if it took all the fore- 

 noon. "Perhaps you have not thought 

 how persistently the milliner pushes 

 herself into the domain of the naturalist. 

 I went to California, and at Pasadena, 

 in a 'poultry' yard of huge domesticated 

 birds, was the milliner pulling out os- 

 trich plumes, decorating show cases with 

 them and shipping them away by the 

 hundred." 



"Don't mean to say, do you," inter- 

 polated the Aged Resident, "that there 

 is a plant which is an imitation of the 

 ostrich plume? I've heard tell of ostrich 

 plumed ferns and oyster plants and a 

 lot of others that imitate animal forms, 

 but I never heard of ostrich plume 

 plants." 



"Be patient and I will tell you all," I 

 replied. "This is no imitation; this is 

 the real original thing." 



"You see I went to Florida, and there 

 were the milliners with a lot of assist- 

 ants with guns almost completely anni- 



