The world within the garden fence is not the same weary 

 and dusty world with which we outside mortals are 

 conversant; it is a finer, lovelier, more harmonious 



Nature/' XT u 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 



DECEMBER 



/CHRISTMAS is once again in our midst, and December 

 ^^ draws fast to its close. The golden flame of the sun is 

 for days and days together extinguished, blown out, as it 

 were, by the boisterous winds, or stifled with the mist. At 

 this festive season, these fireside days, Nature is at its very 

 lowest ebb; only the pearl-tinted blooms of the Christmas 

 roses, 



u The last pale blossoms of the year, 

 Coming when holly-berries glow and cheer," 



peep from out their sheltering foliage, or the stars of Jasmine 

 nudiflorum, pale and half transparent with rain and mist, 

 bravely blossom against the wall in spite of all inclement 

 weather. The Christmas rose is certainly the one valuable 

 flower for the Winter garden, but it is also very capricious in 

 its growth, having a great aversion to being disturbed, grow- 

 ing very luxuriantly in one place, and in another gradually 

 dwindling away. Many are the myths and superstitions 

 associated with this, as well as all Christmas plants and trees, 

 none of which will we catalogue here. Was it not Carlyle 

 who said : " Superstition, that horrid incubus which dwelt in 

 darkness, shunning the light, with all its racks and poison- 

 chalices and foul sleeping-draughts, is passing away without 

 return." 



Sometimes we are blessed at this season with bright for- 



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