458 



A RIOTOUS FANTASY. 



iety would enable them to communicate in future with 

 their bellicose rival, without the disagreeable necessity 

 of coming to close quarters. 



The feverish excitement of this martial episode had 

 scarcely subsided when a fresh danger appeared on the 

 horizon. Sweet Basil came rushing in, pale as ghost, to 

 give warning that the Thunder Cloud pansies had as- 

 sumed a threatening aspect ; their silver lining was no 

 longer visible, at least not to the naked eye. This 

 ominous feature invariably announced the speedy arri- 

 val of the dread Storm King, who a moment latter, im- 

 pelled by his satellites, the Wind Flowers, burst forth in 

 all his fury (and Montbriand recalls with an aching 

 pang that he has neglected to renew his hail insurance). 

 The scene that follows baffles description, for mingled 

 with the blinding rush and deafening turmoil of the 

 elements, were the terrific roarings of the Mammoth Im- 

 proved dandelions, the blood-curdling shrieks of the 

 Leopard Spotted chrysanthemums, the neighing and 

 frantic plunging of the frenzied Horseradishes, the dismal 

 howling of the Wolf-banes, the shrill yelping of the Fox- 

 gloves, the harrowing squeals of the Pig weeds, the strident 

 blare of the Trumpet honeysuckles, the rasping croaks of 

 the Crocuses, the reedy, oboe-like squawks of the Hawk 

 Weed and the Hollyhocks, the mournful clanging of the 

 Canterbury Bells, the clicking snaps of the Snap dra- 

 gons, the hoarse warning cries of the Peacock pansies, 

 the plaintive chirps of the Chicken weeds, to all of which 

 were added new elements of terror in the hideous con- 

 tortions of the affrighted Snake cucumbers, the twisted 

 agony of the Lion-tailed leonotus, the terror-stricken 

 grimaces of the Turk's Head squashes, all heightened by 

 the lurid light of belching volleys of Indian Shot, and 

 broadcast, chaotic destruction, caused by the tempestu- 

 ous whirling antics, of the unfettered Cyclotoma, the 

 booming Cyclone plant, fresh from its lair in the dreary 

 Black Hills. The scene, in all its weird, supernatural, 

 ramifications, was indescribable; it was a horticultural 

 pandemonium. 



Happily, at this critical juncture the great Weather 

 plant intervened, and boldly accosting Storm King, said, 

 with gruff and threatening energy : " Look here, Frau 

 Emma Topfer, I've a great mind to artichoke you and 

 if you don't clear out by Four O'clock sharp, I'll put you 

 in the Stocks, sure as you're a sinner." His impressive 

 appearance and dignity of language had instant effect, 

 for the moment he uttered the name "Frau Emma 

 Topfer, " Storm King, realizing that the game was up, 

 with a crestfallen air, disappeared like a flash, borne on 

 the wings of the Wind flower. The great Weather plant, 

 now that the coast was clear, immediately began to 

 bring order out of chaos, by first establishing on a 

 sound basis, a clear and equable temperature. The pre- 

 liminary step being to unceremoniously pitch all the 

 barometers and thermometers over the fence, accom- 

 panied by all the bulletins from the weather bureau. 



Then, as if by the wave of a magic wand, the beau- 

 teous Rainbow Plant cast its glowing iridescent arch of 

 promise athwart the peaceful garden, which a little 



later on was glorified and transfigured by the gorgeous 

 multicolored beams of the incomparable Sunset Plant, 

 whose last lingering rays had scarce withdrawn, when 

 the misty twilight came slowly creeping on, and then the 

 soft silvery radiance of the chaste Moonflowers illuminat- 

 ed the enchanting scene with floods of mellow light ; and 

 in the clear azure blue of the firmament, there appeared 

 silently, in the order of their magnitude, the glorious 

 Star of Bethlehem, the brilliant Stars of Quedlinburg, 

 the Star of India, the Blazing Star, and myriads of star 

 collections, one could scarcely — but ah, great Ceasar ! 

 hark ! — hush ! Is it the music of the spheres ? Oh what 

 thrilling, heavenly harmony ! How clear the throbbing 

 liquid notes ; they rise and fall in billowy waves of 

 ravishing, melting melody, then soar triumphant in 

 quivering cadences of soulful sound ; ah yes, tis the 

 sweet Nightingale flower, that floral cantatrice, chant- 

 ing her vesper hymn to the snowy Moonflowers. 

 As the last quivering notes faintly die away, Mont- 

 briand perceives that the evening has become chilly, 

 which he ascribes to the prevalence of great quantities 

 of Snow on the Mountains, and instinctively draws up 

 to the celebrated Mexican Fire Plant, which, strictly on 

 account of its persistent dull green foliage, throws out 

 a ruddy glow of generous heat, which imparts a sense 

 of comfort to the cosy garden corner. 



It suddenly occurred to Montbriand that it would be 

 a capital idea to sit out in the garden and read till bed- 

 time. He quickly lighted a contiguous clump of Candle 

 cactus. The effect was so cheerful and Christmas-like, 

 that he lighted clumps here and there all over the gar- 

 den. It was like fairyland. He then comfortably 

 seated himself on the edge of a mammoth English mush- 

 room, and placing his feet in front of the Fire Plant, 

 drew out a pocket edition of Lamb's essay. The gentle 

 Elia was a favorite of his, and he opened his volume at 

 the memorable paper on "roast pig." As with most 

 pocket editions, the print was exceedingly fine. He was 

 consequently much surprised to discover that the clear 

 brilliant light of the cactus enabled him to read with 

 much greater ease than he had ever experienced at 

 mid-day. While thus agreeably engaged, he looked up 

 from time to time, struck with the analogy between the 

 appearance of his garden, and that which the country 

 in China must have presented when the primeval 

 mode of roasting pigs, so graphically described by the 

 author, was in vogue. 



Montbriand was suddenly aroused from these plea- 

 sant reveries, by the warning clang of the fire-alarm, 

 and the immediate arrival of a dozen firemen with hose 

 and reel, and a bodyguard of seventy-five real boys of all 

 sizes, but equally destructive. The hose played with 

 vigorous impartiality, first on the burning cactus, then 

 on its bewildered proprietor, while the boys with tire- 

 less energy pranced all over the choicest beds in his 

 garden, leaving it a perfect wreck. Drenched and dis- 

 heartened he entered the house and prepared to retire. 

 First carefully adjusting a stylish night-cap, deftly 

 fashioned from the celebrated Dish Cloth Plant, and then 



