THE PLANT WOKLD 143 



storing up food for the future plant. 



From my outlook upon tlie Hudson the days are placid, the river 

 is placid, the boughs of the trees gently wag, the bees make vanishing 

 lines through the air. The passing boats create a great commotion in 

 the water, converting it from a cool, smooth, shadowy surface to one 

 pulsating and agitated. The pulsations go shoreward in long, dark, 

 rolling, glassy swells. The grapes are purpling in the vineyard. The 

 apples and pears are coloring in the orchard; the corn is glazing in the 

 field; the oats are ripe for the cradle; grasshoppers poise and shuffle 

 above the dry road; thistle-down drifts by on the breeze; a sparrow 

 sings fitfully now and then; dusty wheelmen go by on their summer 

 vacation tonrs; boats appear upon the river loaded with gay excursion- 

 ists, and on every hand the stress and urge of life have abated. — From 

 Harper's Magazine for August, 1901, hy permission of the publishers. 



NOTES FROM WESTERN KENTUCKY. 

 By Sadie F. Price. 



ON a collecting trip through Muhlenberg county a few weeks ago, 

 I visited "Airdrie," on Green Eiver. It is General Buell's old 

 homestead, a peaceful, beautiful place where the gentlemanly 

 old soldier passed his last days. Old-fashioned " hundred-leaf " and 

 other roses, white jasmine, English ivy, and many wild vines covered 

 the grounds and little bridges about the park; while the \dew of the 

 river is very fine. 



Near the house — a quaint old-fashioned, large log house with wide 

 porches — is a stone marking the spot where the General's favorite war 

 horse is buried. On the bluff about one-half mile from the house, is a 

 coal mine, not now in use; while still farther down stands a deserted 

 village where in 1855 sixty Scots, brought over by Lord Alexander, 

 lived for a few years before the place was purchased by General Buell. 

 The ruins of a tall stone tower, with iron boiler of an iron foundrj'^ is 

 near the house, and cose by a three-story sandstone house •uith barred 

 windows, while stone steps lead up to the top of the bluff where the vil- 

 lage stands. The stone building with the inscription "Airdrie, 1855," 

 was used as a prison for the convicts from thi Eddyvdlle penitentiary, 

 who worked in the mines. 



The cliffs near were an ideal spot for cei'tain ferns, but many of 

 these had, no doubt, been long since uprooted by the many tourists 

 and fishing parties who annually visit Airdrie. In a swamp still lower 

 down the river I found two shrubs that I had not found before in Ken- 



