vil 
N Hans Andersen’s story of Twelve by 
| the Mail, June steps from the coach, 
““proud, delicate, and charming, accompanied 
by her robust brother July.”’ And well may 
July be described as robust, for he seems 
full of life and jollity. He brings us hot suns 
and gusty storms, humming bees and danc- 
ing butterflies, the ruddy tiger lily and stout 
phlox, and an industrious army of insect 
life follows in his train. 
In July heat no one feels actively inclined, 
and what might be called gardening with 
the brain is in order. This can be done by 
sitting in a comfortable chair in the shadiest 
part of the lawn, looking over the borders, 
and considering the effect if one were enliv- 
ened with pink and another toned down 
with white; whether a part of another 
might not better be replanted, and such 
tall plants as asters and boltonias set at the 
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