SEPTEMBER. 
201 
Fig. 8—Female 
flower of the 
Oak magni¬ 
fied. 
Fig 10.—Trans¬ 
verse section 
of the female 
flower of the 
Oak. 
are called catkins. Each of these flowers contains from five to ten stamens, 
inserted at the base of a sort of envelope, composed of some dry leaves {fig. 7). 
There is no interior envelope; outside of the single 
envelope there is a scale of the same colour, shorter 
and broader. 
The female flowers are much less numerous. 
They are scattered on stalks more or less long. Each 
of them {fig. 8), is encompassed in its lower half 
by a small cup. This cup is formed of numerous 
short and thickly-set scales. If you cut the flower 
longitudinally in two halves {fig. 9), inside of the cup or 
involucre (inv), is another envelope of six leaves, free at their extremity 
only (cal), and united together and 
with the ovary (oy). This ovary 
is crowned by three small brown 
crests (st), which are the stigmas. 
If you cut the female flower trans¬ 
versely {fig. 10), you will see it is 
divided into three cavities, each of 
which encloses two seeds. We shall 
see, in a subsequent lesson, the 
changes that this organ undergoes 
in its development before it becomes the fruit, 
which is called an acorn {fig. 11). 
Fig. 9.—Section of the female 
flower of the Oak magnified. 
Fig. 11.—Fruit 
of the Oak. 
ELSENHAM HALL GARDENS. 
A recent trip into Hertfordshire gave me an opportunity of paying a visit 
to Elsenham Hall, the residence of Mrs. Rush, a generous patroness of horti¬ 
culture. Though not prominently a pattern of horticultural excellence, it is 
yet a scene of operations the inspection of which amply repays a visit; for 
here, what is done, is done well, with a patient thoroughness that is seen 
expressed on every hand. 
Descending from the avenue by a circuitous path through the shrubbery, a 
piece of ornamental water is reached, situate at the bottom of a gentle declivity, 
on the steep of which is the dwelling-house. By this water flourishes some 
fine specimens of ornamental trees. Conspicuous among them was a gigantic 
Tulip Tree, yet in bloom. Contiguous were grand specimens of the Fern-leaved 
Lime, a Fern-leaved Beech, and here and there, in curious outline, an upright 
Thorn, destitute of those “ sharp ligneous shoots” with which Nature furnishes 
this family, as if they were among the warriors of the vegetable kingdom. 
This rising ground is the site of the flower garden ; between it and the water 
is a belt of Conifers, which included a splendid and healthy specimen of Picea 
nobilis, some 20 feet in height, P. excelsa, and in marked contrast P. pygmaea. 
Though bearing evidence of the effect of the intense drought, that in its 
parched grip forces the fettered land to articulate a passionate desire that the 
“ fountains of the mighty deep” might be broken up, by which to slake its 
burning thirst, the flower garden was yet a picture of beauty. It was destitute 
of that artificial aspect that in some gardens seems to strangle and suffocate 
the natural and voluntary grace that must not be wholly lost. It was not all 
glare or all verdure, but a happy and successful combination of the two indis¬ 
pensable ingredients. I was pleased both with the arrangement and effect of 
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