84 Hsfie i^'o-tkes’ 
g\m\\ (BxftxbmM, 
FLORAL FESTIVAL, OR MAY QUEEN. 
1st Maid of Honor: “Accept, fair Queen, this 
crown of flowers in token of our united esteem. We 
have sought the fairest flowers of summer, have 
twined them into wreaths of beauty, woven for you 
a bright coronal of Nature’s sparkling jewels, to grace 
your youthful brow. Of this floral tribute may each 
fragile blossom whisper to your gentle heart, in the 
soft, yet impressive accents of its own poetical lan¬ 
guage, assurances of our affection. Each dewy petal 
is fraught with a mission, and the tear-like drops, 
which glisten here and there with trembling confi¬ 
dence, reveal the fond sentiments of our souls more 
forcibly than cold human language could portray. 
And, while we find ourselves incapable of giving ut¬ 
terance to the emotions that swell our hearts, we can 
only point to those lovely orators and bid you heed 
their silent eloquence.” 
Queen : 
“Thanks. Many thanks, dear companions,for this offering of 
flowers. 
You have made me your Queen, on my forehead X wear 
The crown which your own Joying hands have placed there. 
And mine is a crown which priceless shall he, 
As a pledge of your love and your fealty to me. 
There are chords of my soul which your friendship hath swept. 
That ever till now have all silently slept. 
But those chords, newly wakened, shall slumber no more 
’Till they reach the dim verge of eternity’s shore. 
Oh ! when, as it must, either early or late, 
Grief’s shadowy form on my pathway shall wait; 
When the winter of life crowns'my head with its snows 
And the bright crimson tide seems to ebb as it flows; 
Oh ! would that these lips, though faintly, could tell 
But a part of the trust that my inmost heart swell.” 
2 d Maid of Honor , presenting Herbarium: “On 
to-day a memento we would offer—a silent though 
lasting reminder. And when in after years you 
search amid Flora’s vast domain for rare treasures, 
to place side by side with those we have gathered, let 
each flower and twig remind of absent friends, and 
warn you, too, that “the fairest flower that blooms 
must die.” 
Queen: “See, how beautiful, how thoughtful! 
Faded flowers; meet monitors to say how swiftly 
speed the joys of earth, how ephemeral are beauty, 
youth, and worldly splendor. These, at least, have 
preserved a form that bespeaks their wonted glory. 
Nay, more than that. See! What do I read? 
‘ Culled on the shore of the Rhine.’ Tour gift, 
Hattie.” 
3d Maid of Honor : “ Yes; and well chosen, I trust 
you will deem it.” 
Queen: “It speaks, indeed, of your poetic taste; 
and I imagine it grew upon some shelving rock, 
overhanging the placid waters of that historic 
stream.” 
3d Maid of Honor: “Now, do not ridicule me, if I 
am fond of poetry. And why should I not love that 
majestic river? The mere mention of its name recalls 
to mind all that is glorious in war or lovely in peace. 
When I gaze on this faded flower, methinks I see 
near it the blue Forget-me-not, the verdant plain, the 
rising mountain. I hear the murmur of the breeze 
rushing agaiust the ivy-clad battlements of antique 
castles. With it are blended sounds sweet and low; 
tales of days gone by. Its waters keep time to the 
proud, patriotic hymn; to the soft, thrilling notes of 
the wakeful nightingale. They tell of valor and 
poesy. They are grand! They are noble! Blame 
me not, then, if I love the mighty old Rhine.” 
Queen: “You have grown enthusiastic, indeed; 
and, far from censuring you, we feel you’ve commu¬ 
nicated to us something of your admiring spirit. 
(Turns to next page.) But near your valued Fern I 
find a Laurel leaf. Oh, see the crimson stain! Your 
name, Mollie, is attached.” 
1th Maid of Honor: “’Twas brought from Italia’s 
Moral Xrafom’i uiitl Piet or rat Home ftomjmruGm 
strand. The foot of an apostle tread on the soil that 
nourished the parent shrub. Meekly, humbly he 
walked the proud city of the Caesars. Pagan Rome 
yielded to the truth he taught—a lesson of wisdom 
and strength. There is victory in suffering and 
woe; glory in contempt and death. Hence, this 
Laurel leaf (tinged with red) should remind us never 
to quail in the hour of trial and gloom; but, though 
bleeding and sore, still hopefully to turn to the Lau¬ 
rel unfading, the Laurel of truth eternal, the victory 
that belongs to God.” 
Queen: “Well you have expressed it, my charm¬ 
ing little friend. Yours ix a token sacred; one ’tis 
hallowed joy to keep. And who so loves the sunny 
land of France as to seek a floral tribute on the banks 
of her beautiful streams?” 
5 th Maid of Honor: “I scarcely dare present my 
Fleur de Lis, for on its petals, too, there rests a gory 
stain; but ’tis the atoning price of infidelity and 
guilt. ’Twas culled near the banks of the Seine. 
Oh! lovely, peaceful Seine! How proudly thy waters 
flowed through the capital, queen of refinement and 
beauty! Alas! a dark cloud arose and broke into a 
fearful storm—the storm of defiance to lawful author¬ 
ity. And this men would call freedom! Yet, when 
from thy murmuring waves I look to the blue sky 
above, my soul is filled with hope anew. Thy waters, 
made holy by the blood of martyrs, a new baptism 
impart. Laved in repentance, France will arise /” 
Queen: “ Trusting that your words may be verified, 
I will treasure your sweet Lily. But here the eye is 
greeted by a bright green Ivy leaf, which looks as if 
it might recall more cheerful thoughts.” 
6 th Maid of Honor: “That leaf was plucked from 
a vine that covered a desolate ruin near the celebrated 
Thames. Ah! could this Ivy leaf but speak, what 
tales might it not reveal, caught perhaps from the 
Thames’s dark-rolling waters, for they pass by the 
Castle of Windsor and lash against the battlements 
of the Tower of London. But of these I would not 
speak. The Ivy of Time has cast a mantle over them. 
I wish not my gift to recall thoughts of gloom.” 
Queen: “It will not, my precious little friend. 
From Adna’s eager glance I fancy her selected me¬ 
morial comes next in order. See the Orange blos¬ 
som, resting on its glossy leaf. From what quarter 
of our own loved land comes the well-known token.” 
'1th Maid of Honor: “From a blest spot, whose 
fragrant shores are gently washed by the crystal 
waters of the mighty ocean. ’Twas nurtured on the 
soil of San Salvador, whence first resounded the voice 
of Christian worship in the New World. What 
magic power association lends e’en to a tiny object! 
Here Columbus and his noble achievements rise to 
my delighted view. What hero can boast so great a 
conquest? And yet, what was his reward? But 
posterity will be more just. These are the familiar 
memories my flower would recall.” 
Queen: “Thanks for these reminiscences, 
shall they be treasured in our hearts. 
Lucie’s floral souvenir.” 
3th Maid of Honor: “Yes; last, but not least, in 
every sense, would I have my tiny offering deemed. 
A Yiolet white and one of delicate blue.” 
Queen: “Name the magnificent, river whose banks 
your beauteous flowerets decked.” 
3th Maid of Honor: “It was a nameless stream in 
Florida’s balmy land, whose odor-laden air and en¬ 
chanting clime’led the discoverers to believe that it 
was the fountain of perpetual youth. In unpretend¬ 
ing simplicity it runs the course marked out for it by 
a wise Providence. It feels no ambition and knows 
no discontent, but silently pursues its beneficent 
labor.” 
Queen: “So may it be with us; for Him who 
gave even to the nameless rivulet a worthy ob¬ 
ject on each of us has bestowed an ennobling mis¬ 
sion. May we then, like the modest little stream 
’neath Heaven’s blessings, nurture buds and flowers 
of virtue, till their fragrance fills our souls and 
spreads its balmy odors on all around.” 
Ever 
Last comes 
Miss Helen Sanderson. 
Prairie Valley, Texas. 
FLOWER-BEDS. 
My beds consist of two circular beds, three yards 
across; one oval bed, five yards by three; one trian¬ 
gle, seven and a half by three and a half yards; and 
the straight beds, which are over a yard wide. Taking 
them altogether—those around the house, next to 
piazza, and around door-yard fence—make over one 
hundred yards. In the spring I uncover the beds, 
spade them, and rake as soon as it will do. One year 
I did one bed when the ground was entirely too wet; 
and the bed was not fit to sow seeds in for two years, 
for, instead of the ground being mellow, it was like 
little stones, about the size of peas and hazel nuts. 
One year, thinking to have some plants grow extra 
nice, I went to an old sheep-yard, though hogs had 
run there for some time, took off the course litter, 
then carried some nice rich dirt to my beds. Some 
time after, finding the plants not doing as well as 
expected, found, on examining the ground, it was 
filled with slender worms, nearly an inch long, of aD 
amber color—great clusters or knots of them, as large 
as a walnut. Soon took out all that dirt, and poured 
boiling water around the old plants. Now I don’t 
know whether they were owing to the sheep or hog 
manure. Another year I found a rather queer 
lot of worms. My Star of Bethlehem not coming 
up good, thought I would see what was the mat¬ 
ter. Found a perfect mess of brown worms, not 
quite as large round or as long as the cut-worm. 
Took out a bushel of dirt; but not a worm except 
where those bulbs had been. When digging up my 
flower-beds, Ifind the potato-fork much nicer than the 
spade. It doesn’t cut the roots of the bushes and it’s 
much easier for the one digging. I fork up two or 
three yards; then hoe and rake awhile. It’s hard 
work, and yet a comfort to know that your plants 
are neither missing or destroyed. Farmers have too 
much to do in the spring to attend to flower-beds, 
and with most of the hired men the plants grow lessin 
size and fewer in numbers. I find Linaria, Larkspur, 
Phlox, Candytuft, and Clarkia do much better to sow 
late in the fall. Clarkia will grow two feet high; 
perfect little trees. I have used them with good ef¬ 
fect, when transplanting, to set them two feet or more 
apart, with Asters between. The Clarkias are done 
and pulled up when the Asters come on. I find Can¬ 
terbury Bell, Ipomopsis, and Sweet William are apt 
to rot unless I put some sticks or a little brush 
amongst them before I cover with leaves and manure. 
Pinks and Sweet William sometimes make a great 
show. Have had friends from the East say: “They 
exceed anything they ever saw.” My bulb-bed, 
which is the triangle, is truly a thing of beauty from 
early in the spring till Jack Frost takes possession. I 
often hear of people riding by to see “those Tulips ”; 
but with me the charm commences when the Bulbo- 
codium first pushes its lilac blossoms out of the ground, 
though it will not compare in beauty with Saille 
Siberica. That’s the brightest, most intense blue I 
ever saw. I potted some for the conservatory, and they 
were admired very much; but they are brighter out¬ 
doors. Flowers are blossoming nearly a month earlier 
than common. Myrtle, Daffodils, Adonis, Liverwort, 
and Bloodroot have also been in blossom some days. 
Our winters generally are very severe. Thermometer 
has been down 28° below zero; but this winter is an 
exception. Every three years I take up my bulbs. 
In the fall I take out a quantity of the dirt and put in 
fresh in the bed. Then I also do up twenty or more 
packages of about a pint of small bulbs, with a dozen 
or so of flowering bulbs, and send around where I 
think they would be acceptable or where there are 
children; for I think the love of flowers, may be, can 
be instilled, if not inherited. And now, to finish Ibis 
chapter, I’ll tell you how I fix my Floral Cabinet. 
I sew and cut before I read a word; for I well know, 
if I commence to read, it will be turned and twisted 
and maybe torn. At the end of the year I sew the 
numbers all together, and get old pasteboard boxes 
at the village store to bind them with. It’s heavier 
than common pasteboard; and, with a bouquet now 
and then sent to the store, they think they are fully 
paid for their kindness. Aunt Kate. 
