THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
22tf 
common stalk, have delightful fragrance. Filling in all 
the undergrowth of the woods, and lighting up each 
side of the road, for miles and miles, are the brilliant 
clusters of the Kalmia, or American Laurel. The 
emerald gloss of its leaves has made the forest beauti¬ 
ful al 11 hrough the spring, and now it brightens it up into 
gorgeous loveliness with the gay colors of its flowers. 
Frequently the prettiest and shadiest places in the 
woods; by dryad haunts; in wet, rocky glens; by the 
banks of streams, looking across the glowing sunsets; on 
fairy islands, hanging over the edge of the water, al¬ 
most dipping its azure blue-bells into the foam of gauzy 
waterfalls, we find the I-Iare-bell —Hyacinthus nonscrip- 
tus. It has traveled all the way from Persia, where 
once the queens of the Artaxerxes and the Chosroes cul¬ 
tivated it iu their gardens, and it is now common in all 
our forests. It derives its name from the fact of its 
generally growing in those places frequented by hares. 
The flower varies iu color and beauty, some being com¬ 
pletely white, and others much resembling the poorer 
kinds of Hyacinths; but they have longer and narrower 
flowers, not swelling at the bottom ; the bunch of 
flowers is likewise longer and bends downwards. The 
fresh roots of this plant are said to be poisonous; the 
juice is mucilaginous, and in the time of Queen Eliza¬ 
beth was used as starch. 
All through August flourishes the Ground Nut, a 
pretty wild bean, with flowers of a purplish-chocolate 
color, or a brown-purple, that are fragrant. It can be 
found among the Brambles and the Blackberry vines at 
the foot of the hedges and by the sides of quiet roads 
and lanes, twining and climbing around the bushes, 
bearing clusters of flowers which have a papilionaceous 
or butterfly-shaped corolla. 
The Clematis or Traveler’s Joy grows in long continu¬ 
ous beauty. No one knows the origin of the name any 
further than that the beauty of the plant is charming to 
the pedestrian, clothing, as it does, the wayside hedges 
and banks with its twisting branches. The flower has 
no corolla, but four sepals, and derives its showy ap¬ 
pearance from its seed vessels or achenia. These bear 
persistent styles that are long and feathery. 
The Cardinal flower, “the superb Lobelia, flashing 
among the hedges,” as Willis calls it, is also one of the 
glories of midsummer. It is indigenous to our country, 
growing on the borders of rivers and streamlets. The 
plant is decorated with bright scarlet flowers which 
have a singular elegance and richness. 
In low grounds and marsh lands, throwing its shadow 
along rippling water-courses all the way from New 
England southward, grows that foreign-looking plant, 
the Rhododendron, from six to twenty feet high, native 
born and bred, though it carries with it suggestions of 
flamingoes and parrots and palm groves of a southern 
land. It is a magnificent, luxuriant shrub, with leaves 
thick and leathery, from four to ten inches long, very 
smooth and dark-green. The flowers appear in July in 
large clusters: the corolla is an inch broad, white or 
pale-rose colored. One variety is met with having pure 
white, and another one with purplish flowers. One 
might wish that the swamps where they grow might be 
even more fiercely guarded by dragon-flies, or snakes- 
root, or frogs’-bit, spike-rush, or spear-grass, so that 
these oasis of glorious flowers might not be dis¬ 
turbed or cut away, but left to rule in their strange 
solitude. 
“ Consider the Lilies,” said the Saviour upon a time. 
We will follow the injunction, for they are among the 
richest flowers of our midsummer. Field Lilies, Tiger 
Lilies, Japau Lilies and Water Lilies, all are worthy of 
note. They have figured in history and in poetry. The 
great Solomon adorned his bride with this beautiful 
flower; Cleopatra and Zenobia and Nurmahal wore it 
upon their bosoms; and in architecture we find it among 
the Fir-cones and Honeysuckles on the sculptures of 
Assyria. But the Water-Lilies ! What can match those 
cups of snow set in green without and gold within? It 
can well be said that the bright circle of stamens in that 
snow-white cup is the very jewel ■with which the old 
Doges wedded the Adriatic in the days when Venice 
ruled the seas. Beautiful, sacred flower, fair emblem 
of purity and innocence, fitting it was that thy long, 
graceful stalks and odorous blossoms should crown the 
vestal virgin in the temple service. 
We have named only a few of the crowning gems in 
midsummer’s golden casket. From the heap of flowers 
in our lap, the Cardinal Flower, the Rhododendron, the 
Water-Lily, the Kalmia, the Morning Glory could not 
be slighted.' To name all the glorious Flora of this 
charming season would be no slight task, when we think 
of meadows, fields, hillsides, swamps and deep glens— 
glens with all the varieties of Ferns and Maiden Hair. 
And already over the stone walls stretch the long 
branches of the Hypericon and blue Vervain, and in the 
broad pastures whole acres of the stately Golden Rod 
wave in the breeze. F. M. Colby. 
AUGUST. 
The pure enjoyment the garden has afforded us dur¬ 
ing the past month, will, if we have done our part, be 
continued in this. August will tell us plainly whether 
we have been faithful to our trust, or whether we have 
wholly, or in part, neglected it. No month in the year 
is so trying to all kinds of plants as this. In spring and 
early summer the lawn and garden will look moderately 
well in spite of neglect; not so now, unless every care 
has been taken in the preparation of the soil, by deep 
working, manuring and constant cultivation, the sum¬ 
mer's drought will have destroyed or permanently 
ripened every living plant. In a general way we ex¬ 
perience more dry and hot weather in August than in 
any other month of the year; and when this proves ex¬ 
treme it tells plainly on our bedding plants which have 
not grown sufficiently to constitute a cover to the bed that 
holds them, and shade it from the scorching and drying 
influence of the sun. Flower-beds that were dug deep, 
say two feet, and made moderately rich, will have 
proved so congenial a home to the plants, that they will 
have thrown their roots down to such a depth that an 
ordinary drought will have but little, if any, serious 
