WINTER BLOOMING HUCKLEBERRY. ANDROMEDA. 



C. E. PLEAS. 



One must sec these blooming in their 

 native haunts to appreciate their grace and 

 beauty to the fullest. To do this one 

 usually has to wade into the heart of the 

 cypress swamps, and there, from a few 

 inches above the water to 10 or 20 feet 



A NATIVE OF FLORIDA. 



high, he will find them climbing the trunks 

 of the largest trees, creeping in and out of 

 the bark and clinging so closely as to ap- 

 pear as if growing out of the wood. This, 

 too, without roots above ground. How it 

 passes under the tough, close-fitting bark 

 of the cypress is a problem, yet it is diffi- 

 cult to trace the stem, as there are no 



leaves except on the young wood. The ac- 

 companying photo illustrates the glossy, 

 evergreen leaves, with rolled edges, but it 

 can not do justice to the waxy, white 

 blossoms. They are so clear as to readily 

 show the stamens through the sides. In 

 appearance they are the most delicate 

 flowers imaginable, 'but in reality, they are 

 exceedingly firm and retain their form and 

 beauty for days after cutting, without wa- 

 ter. The blooming period lasts 2 

 months or more, January to April, and 

 when a flower is done, it falls with as 

 much noise as a big drop of water. There 

 is no edible fruit, but instead there are 

 dry seed pods. When a tree bearing one 

 of these plants is cut down the plant takes 

 possession of the decaying stump, rooting 

 in the inner bark and sending up numer- 

 ous stems, a foot or so high, laden with the 

 tiny white bells. The photo is reduced 

 about one-half. 



WHEN THE PERCH BEGIN T' BITE. 



W. M. SCHULTZ. 



There's a sort of dreamy feeling 



Lomes a-creeping over me, 

 And I'd like t' be a boy again, 



Just as I used t' be. 

 Get up early every day, 



Just as she's getting light ; 

 Sneak out my pole and sail for th' creek 



When th' perch begin t' bite. 



Seems as though I can smell th' wind 



That's blowing from the wood, 

 Full with the cedar's pungent breath. 



My lord! but it does smell good. 

 And I'd like to be, 

 Just once again, 



When the days are warm and bright, 

 By the deep still hole 

 Just below the dam, 



When the perch begin t' bite. 



Let's see. Train leaves at 7, 



That would put me there at 9; 

 Go down first thing in the morning, 



By George ! That would be fine. 

 I wonder where my reel is ? 



And which boy's got my rod ? 

 Guess I could get a can of worms 



By pullin' up some sod. 

 Here, Jim, go up and get my grip ; 



Step lively now and light ! 

 Your dad's sroing back on his native heath, 



I'll bet them perch '11 bite! 



4.37 



