292 
THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
and is a fleshy membrane of a blood-red color, which 
envelops the nut. It is prepared for the market by 
drying for some days in the sun, and flattening. Its 
odor and taste though strong is agreeable. 
The Nutmeg is the kernel of the fruit of several 
kinds of Myristica, belonging to the order of exogens 
called Myristicacece, of which there are about forty 
known varieties, all natives of tropical countries. The 
tree that furnishes the largest number of the Nutmegs 
of commerce is the Myristica fragrans, or moschata; 
the long Nutmeg sometimes seen in the markets comes 
from the Banda Islands. The common Nutmeg tree is 
about twenty-five feet high, with oblong leaves, the 
fruit is of the size and shape of a roundish pear, and of 
a golden color when ripe. It is often preserved and 
eaten as a sweetmeat. The fleshy part of the fruit is 
surrounded by a membrane called aril, which in a dried 
state forms the mace of commerce ; inside of this is the 
kernel or Nutmeg. They are successfully grown in 
India, also in the West Indies, Jamaica and Trinidad. 
As the Nutmeg is liable to be destroyed by a very 
destructive beetle, it is usually given a coating of lime 
previous to exporting, in order to prevent its ravages. 
The Batavia Nutmegs are always limed, but those from 
Penangare not, and therefore are more highly prized. 
The Nutmeg yields by expression a peculiar yellow fat, 
called aril of mace, because from its color and fla vor, it 
was generally supposed to be derived from mace. By 
distillation is produced an almost colorless essential oil 
having the Nutmeg flavor. 
Nutmegs are not only used as a spice, but also med¬ 
icinally—possessing narcotic properties—and when 
taken in large doses will produce stupefaction and 
delirium. J. M. S. Carter. 
JUNE’S EXPERIMENT. 
A PRACTICAL STORY. 
Part I. 
It was a lovely afternoon in the early jiart of summer; 
and the level rays of the sun shone over a fair southern 
landscape. On the breast of the mighty St. John’s 
moved rapidly a trim little steamer. Far to the east 
lay the dim blue line of the mighty Atlantic, and 
already gleamed the faint white line of the surf— 
already the heaving, swaying motion of the tide was 
perceptible, and the gallant little craft rocked and 
swung gracefully in the swell. 
A keen, cool wind was blowing from the ocean, tem¬ 
pering delightfully the fervid heat. The left shore of 
the river was a thickly wooded slope, along which 
nestled occasional cottages ; the right was composed of 
long reaches of emerald marsh-grass, brightened by the 
rays of the sinking sun, to an exquisite golden green. A 
lovely scene! Keenly to be enjoyed at the moment, 
and never to be forgotten in after years. 
Among the few passengers clustered on the upper 
deck stood a young girl in a thin, dark traveling cos¬ 
tume. 
With a quiet joyfulness she took in every detail of 
the beautiful scene before her, realizing that every rev¬ 
olution of the tireless wheels but brought her that 
much nearer home. Home ! how her heart leaped at 
the word ; southern born and bred, with ardent impul¬ 
ses and strong home-love, June Wallingford had been 
for three years away at a northern school, and 
was now returning to the old family estate on Ft. 
George, an island lying at the mouth of the noble St. 
John’s. 
You would hardly call her beautiful—this slender 
slip of a girl, barely eighteen—and yet her’s was a face 
that would attract you strongly. 
She had the complexion so often seen in the south, 
thick and creamy white, with no dash of color, save in 
the scarlet lips, brown eyes, shaded by heavy lashes, 
and dark hair curling in little rings on her forehead, 
and at the nape of her neck. Her expression denoted 
both sweetness and strength of character, made all the 
more attractive, perhaps, by a spark of slumbering fire 
in those soft brown eyes. Just now, joyous expectancy 
prevails, and as the steamer is rapidly nearing a crazy 
little wharf that reaches out into the river, her eyes are 
straining for a glimpse of some familiar face. 
Meanwhile, on the wharf, apart from the few others 
who have sauntered down to see the boat come in, 
stands an odd little group of three. An ancient colored 
man, gray and grizzled, and somewhat bent, clad in a 
nondescript suit that had once been a livery of some 
sort, and further, ornamented with a dilapidated stove¬ 
pipe, with the nap all brushed the wrong way—this is 
“Uncle Isaac” who is now in a state of grinning excite¬ 
ment, because he has spied. “Missy June” among the 
passengers ; the other two are a boy and girl of eight 
and ten respectively, sun-browned and merry, and in a 
terrible hurry for the “Water Lily” to throw out her 
gang-plank. The steamer makes fast her ropes, and a 
few dexterous turns bring her “alongside”—the rickety 
old wharf creaks and groans but up the welcome plank 
swarm the vivacious children, and meeting sister half 
way, possess themselves of bag and sliawl-strap, and es¬ 
cort her down in triumph. 
Meanwhile Uncle Isaac stands bowing and scraping 
and tugging at his hat-brim, as June gives him a cordial 
greeting. But looking around her expectantly, she 
asks, “Why, where is Papa?” “ Oh, Papa had to go 
to Savannah on business,” chorus the children, “he was 
dreadful sorry, and told us to take good care of you till 
he came back.” A look of disappointment settles on 
her expressive face, which not even the lively chatter 
of the children can banish. At the end of the wharf 
stands the family carriage, and into this they climb 
while Uncle Isaac and a small colored specimen follow 
more slowly with the baggage. 
Now as they bowl along over the smooth shell road, 
and while all the tongues are gaily wagging, let us look 
about us a little. 
The island is small, some two or three miles in di¬ 
ameter, separated from the open sea on the east by 
long stretches of “salt marsh,” with every now and 
then some quiet inlet bringing the salt waters to its 
shores. It is for the most part heavily wooded, the 
prevailing timber being live and water oak. 
Mount Cornelia, the highest point of land, is a green 
