C larksvi 1 1 e , 
Tenn. 
courts. From early Spring until Fall the Queen ot Flowers is 
monarch of her realm. The laudations of a chorus of ten thousand 
voices is hers. No rival in her court! no anarchy in her ranks! 
Serenely in regal pomp she sits in state where all may gather ’round 
but none dare mount the throne. Her monarchy is absolute her 
crown is the people’s smiles. But mankind is fickle ever, even with 
a monarch, for with the departing days of Summer the Queen that 
waxed in .June wanes in November. Unhappy lies the head that 
wears a crown. What is to stay her tottering throne when the days 
of sere leaves are upon us? Coronets soon vanish at the people’s 
will, and with the rustling of the November leaves, one by one her 
glories fade, and the magic sunlight of her petals are dim. 1 hrougli 
the requiem of the Autumn winds we hear the music of Summers 
last Rose, and with the ripening of the purple grapes her dynasty 
is deposed. The Autumn Queen is then by popular acclamation 
placed upon the throne, and wears her honors with an air befitting 
a stately queen that as she comes, is seen and conquers. 
The Chrysanthemum is a flower with so many varieties in shape, 
such great diversity of color, and so differing in size ; it comes at a 
season when all flowers ai-e more appreciated than at any other 
time of the year; it is a flower requiring no expensive structure to 
bring it to perfection. The man who loves the Chrysanthemum, 
whether peer or peasant, has but little difficulty in getting good 
flowers. Tt does not depend upon the vagaries of fashion for its 
popularity, for it has intrinsic merit which has gained for it a posi- 
tion in America to-day such as no other flower, not even the Rose, 
ever had in the short space of a few years, although many others 
have shouldered for supremacy. In England our favorite flower is 
known by the soubriquet of “Mum,” and the many associations 
devoted to its culture and advancement have their banners inscribed 
with the euphonious appellation of “Glorious Company of Mum- 
mers,” which includes all who love this protean flower that gives 
its light to our lives when the sun of Summer has veiled itself from 
us, so that it may not appear to compete with the splendor and 
beauty of Mum. For it must reign alone, this peculiar flower, in 
the Sabbeth of the year, when nature has to change her garments 
and supply a special decoration for such a reception as Queen Mum 
is entitled to. However, although “Mum is the word,” the injunc- 
tion in this case must go unheeded, for where truth and justice do 
