FLORAL NOTES FROM FLORIDA. 
Aunt Effie has been [painting a spray of Poiuciaua 
on a plaque. It is of ebonized wood, and the dowel's are 
so brilliant that the effect is lovely; they arc of the 
most dazzling scarlet and the most vivid yellow com¬ 
bined. Aunt Effie complains that there are no colors in 
the bos brilliant enough. The flowers have four petals, 
are delicately crimped like a piece of crape, and have a 
large number of very long siamens, colored a deep blood- 
red. 
“I could not resist painting it,” said Aunt Effie, “al- 
tlio’ I suppose it isn’t properly a wild flower.” 
“We planted the seed for this,” I reply, “but further 
south in the State, I understand it grows wild. How I 
would like to see an acre in full bloom.” 
“I must paint a companion piece now,” says my 
friend, “ and I very much want some of the wild yellow 
jessamine—it will make a lovely study.” 
“You are too late, my dear; the yellow jessamine 
blooms in the Spring. It is certainly beautiful, 
with its deep-yellow star-like blossoms, its waxy green 
leaves and exquisite odor, which makes you think of 
all things woodsy and wild. It is a rapid climber and 
soon makes a pleasant shade, and yet, as you see, I have 
none around the house. The flowers are said by many 
to be poisonous, so T have never planted any, fearing 
that my own little ‘.wild Jessamine,’ my little human 
flower, might be injured.” 
“Is that really the baby’s name?” questioned Aunt 
Effie. “ You called her ‘Jet,’ and I did not know.” 
“ Yes, I liked the idea that my two little girls should 
have the fanciful names of Ivy and Jessamine. When 
the baby was small, she used to cry a great deal at 
night, and we called her the ‘night-blooming jessa¬ 
mine,’ cestrum nociumum, which reminds me that you 
must see that variety also. It has small, greenish-white 
flowers, with a pleasant fragrance, which expand in the 
night. Then we have several other cultivated varieties 
—the ‘ Cape Jessamine,’ which looks much like a camel¬ 
lia, the ‘ Grand Duke ’ and others.” 
“Butabout that other plaque,” I continued. “Why 
don’t you make a study of crape myrtle ; we have the 
pink and white varieties; they are now in full bloom, and 
the odd part of it is, that the crape myrtle blossoms 
are crimped just about as much as the Poincianas.” 
“ I will try,” sighed Aunt Effie, “ but the crape myrtle 
is as difficult to paint as it is lovely to look at. Just see 
this blossom, for instance—tho six-pointed, star-shaped 
calyx will be easy enough to copy, and the tiny, yellow- 
tipped stamens; but how dare I attempt the petals? 
There are six of them, each set on a long, slender, pink 
stem, so that they quiver with every breath, and their 
edges are ruffled and curled so wonderfully, that no 
painting can do them justice. If the fairies ever want 
any ruching for their ball dresses, here it is, ready 
made. I will put off this attempt till a more convenient 
season, and meanwhile try something easier. Out there 
on the plowed ground I see something pretty and blue 
—after awhile, when the sun is not quite so hot, I will 
get me a spray to copy.” 
“After awhile,” I laugh, “ if you wait till afterawhile, 
your ‘ something pretty and blue’ will not be there. 
Freddie, get auntie some ‘angel’s wings.’” Soon the boy 
brings back a handful of brilliant blue flowers, to which 
the natives have given that odd name, and I do not 
know any other. They have only two petals, shaped 
something like wings, nearly at right angles to each 
other, and of the most intense ultra-marine blue. They 
open in the early morning, and close about nine o’clock; 
so if Aunt Effie wants to copy them, she had best bestir 
herself. 
In the cool of the afternoon we all put on our hats 
and saunter out after flowers, returning an hour later 
with hands filled; then, on the shady porch, we 
proceed to examine and talk over our treasures. 
Many of them I have no names for. but can describe 
in a general way. There are tiny flowers in all 
shades of lavender and purple, in yellow of many tints, 
and an immense variety of lovely, feathery green, name¬ 
less, perhaps, but of the greatest value in making up 
bouquets. Here is a pretty flower, whose only name, as 
far as we can tell, is the “ Florida pink.” It has five 
petals of the deepest rosy hue, with a yellow and ma¬ 
roon centre, and grows on slender, swaying stems. 
Then here is the “ butterfly flower ;” called so only, 
because the butterflies seem so fond of it and are always 
hovering around it. The flowers are small and home in 
clusters : they have ten petals in a double row of five 
each—the outside ones reflexed so that they lie back 
against the stem, the inside row upright, and all of a 
very deep, rich orange color. 
Aunt Effie has succeeded in finding a stalk of pal¬ 
metto bloom, altlio' it is rather past the season. The 
spike is about two feet long, and is covered with hun¬ 
dreds of little greenish-white flowers, which give out an 
exquisite bitter-sweet fragrance. “Palmetto honey” is 
held in as high esteem as is “ white clover honey” 
farther north. 
“ This flower sticks to my fingers.” suddenly exclaims 
Aunt Effie, and sure enough, she is snarled up in a mass 
of “fly-catcher.” 
The flowers are six-petaled and very showy, being 
creamy-white, tinged with pink ; the outside of the 
flowers aud of all the little buds is thickly covered with 
a substance like varnish, intended as a trap for insects, 
and in thi# case has met with unwonted success. 
I go to the rescue of my friend, and together we ex¬ 
amine our last specimen—a long, trailing spray of the 
sensitive plant. It grows close to the ground, is cov¬ 
ered with little fine thorns, and the leaves shut tightly 
together at the slightest touch. The flowers are very 
minute and bloom in compact bunches, forming, when 
open, a round, feathery, downy ball, of a faint pink 
color, and having a delicate fragrance, that reminds one 
of sweet-briar. 
“Supper, supper,” call the children, in lively chorus, 
and with the “ Florida appetite,” we obey. Louise. . 
[If “ Louise” would press some of those wild flowers, 
with root, leaf and branch, we could give her their cor¬ 
rect names, even though they were not so beautiful as 
“angel’s wings,” &c., &c.—E d.] 
