AUGUST. 



I hear the blackbird in the corn, 



The locust in the haying ; 

 And, like the fabled hunter's horn, 



Old tunes my heart is playing. 



— Whittier. 



THE vacuum which — according to the 

 popular saying — '' Nature abhors," 

 certainly never shews its dreary blank in 

 our Fairyland. Things change, softly, — 

 and the appearance of things : hyacinths 

 go out and lilies come in, and then annuals 

 come crowding up to fill the ranks. Tall 

 perennials too look down upon the nezv 

 people, — beautiful phlox heads, waving their 

 abundant bloom in the fresh wind ; and lark- 

 spur, blue-eyed and dignified ; and monks- 

 hood and fox-glove. Cassia Marylandica — 

 a v/ild native beauty — will thrive and flower 

 without stint, if transplanted to your gar- 

 den ; needing plenty of room and giving in 

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