were entirely untrained to detect the many wonders of construction and the consistent, uniform laws which distinguish and govern the growth of plants. I had a silly notion that I should find botany a tiresome, pedantic study, principally made up of learning long names and tedious distinctions, and that botanic authors themselves often became confused in their own classifications. I have not yet become converted to another opinion on this latter point. However, for the benefit of others who, like myself, might be induced to study botany a little without a guide, I will give some of my experience for the past few weeks.

In packing a box of books for summer use, I happened to put in a copy of

NEW RIVER AT SHOOFLY TUNNEL.

dodendron, which they called the "Big Laurel," and the real Laurel, or Wild Azalea, with its snowy flowers, the Chittim wood, and many others of which I could now only see the seed-vessels. They seemed to think the mid-summer and late flowers scarcely deserved names in comparison with the earlier ones.

I have no doubt a residence here, in May and early June, would be perfectly delightful to the flower-lover, and if fate ever grants such a boon to me, I shall duly appreciate it.

The first flower I analyzed successfully was a lovely little pink blossom which we found, one day, growing in the sandy soil of the riverside, and almost at the water's edge. The river was low, and its width of, perhaps, a third of a mile, was spread out in brawling currents over its rocky shoals, and with islands of water grasses and aquatic plants that almost tempted one to wade out to them over the ledges. Here and there you saw a projecting rock standing high and dry above the water, and rarely a long-legged crane would stalk about on the most distant of these, and hunt for fish in the little pools below.

WOOD's Botany. This was done with no definite purpose, but just by chance, I, little thinking how very frequently I should make it my companion, for, with my pocket microscope, it has gone on many a row and ramble with me.

As I said, the flowers on these Virginia mountains and in the valleys and river courses, were, many of them, entirely new to me, and even the people living here had no names for many of them, even for some that grow as plentifully as Dandelions in our spring fields and lanes. They had many brilliant and beautiful flowers of earliest summer, but all out of bloom now, of which they were properly very proud; of such were the Rho

I loved nothing better than to take book or water-color pencil and spend hours on this bank, under the shade of a clump of Black Birch, and on a big sand-stone rock which probably had fallen from the mountain above, years and years before. And here I found my little flower, almost under my feet, and blooming as freshly and pinkly as if it were choicely sheltered, and not openly exposed to the wandering foot of every passer-by, whether man or beast. It was a six-petalled flower, as pink as a wild Rose, and with a wonderfully perfect center with its six stamens and three golden pistils, and a curiously twisted flower stalk. The plant had evidently been cropped by some passing cow or sheep to the very root, and this one little stalk was glorified with one flower and one bud, a late indemnification to the plant for its early bereavement. To that, I afterwards found, did I owe my acquaintance with it, for this season, at

Another plant, which puzzled me a good while, was finally proved to be the Moth Mullein, Verbascum Blattaria. I suppose I ought to have known that, but I did not, nor did any one here, and, as yet, I have not discovered why it is called Moth Mullein. What rare beauties the glass reveals in the soft filaments of this flower, clothed in violet wool.

I found one specimen of a flower which, like my Twist-stalk, seemed belated, and which I venture to call the Soapwort Gentian, but as I found but one specimen, I am not so very sure of it.

The purple and white Ageratum, and the Blackberry Lily, Pardanthus, grow most abundantly in these mountains, and were analyzed, although I already knew them.

I think I was happiest of all when, one day, in a shady path running up the side of the Gauley River, I found two fine specimens of Indian Pipe, Monotropa, Pure, waxy, spirit blooms, with not a trace of the green garb which all other plants must put on as their common robe, and looking as if one warm sunbeam would melt them away, like an icicle. I kept them in the shade of a close box, and exulted in them to my heart's content, ruthlessly counting all of their waxy petals and golden anthers; but the beauty was indeed short lived;

One day, we rowed close to the shore for a mile on that basin of the New River, to which I have alluded, and which is very deep, and at least a fourth of a mile wide, and more than a mile long, to a place where the rocky gorge of" Narrow Falls" crowds the volume of water into a narrow passage of a few yards. On either side tower cliffs hundreds of feet high, but for some fifty feet above the water's edge is a dense growth of Alder, Winterberry and other shrubs, interspersed with some fine trees of Sycamore, Water Birch and a few Elms and and Oaks. On these Elms is found the Mistletoe. Beneath these is an undergrowth of Wahoo, Laurel, Holly and many varieties of the Sunflower family, Button-bush, wild Ipomœa and numerous other plants; while running to the sandy edge of the shore and out into the water I found magnificent banks of the Arrowhead Lily, Sagittaria variabilis, four different varieties, and in the river itself the Grassy Arrowhead, Sagittaria graminea, was growing in beautiful grassy clumps, and sending up its white, waxy blooms, on their own stalks, in August.

How many new acquaintances I have made this summer, and I have seen some very pretty things that I cannot yet name, but which I trust the future will make known to me. And what an ever fresh interest it has given to every walk and even every ride, over these mountain roads, where Ferns and running vines almost overhang the highway. It seems to me that I cannot tell a tithe of my delight, yet I trust this little that I have said will induce others to try the same inviting path.

LOUISE SAMSON.

In passing through the country during the winter months, we cannot help noticing the important part taken by the White Birch, Betula alba var. populifolia, and Canoe Birch, Betula papyracea, in making up the winter landscape.

The White Birch, with its tall and thinly-clad trunk, is found in all soils from gravelly upland to peaty swamp. It is everywhere characteristic, seldom

varying from its usual form, unless bent over, as it often is. with a weight of snow or ice, and remaining in that position in marked contrast to the upright growing trees about it. We see it in woods, swamps and pastures, outlined against an evergreen background, grouped among darker hued trees, or covering large sections of barren land with a dense growth.

The tree is short-lived and of small growth, but occasionally, in a favorable situation, it becomes ten inches in diameter, and thirty to forty feet high; it is then one of the most interesting of our native trees, with slender, drooping branches, and a pure white bark, relieved by patches of a dark shade where the branches join the trunk.

Growing with the White Birch, and to the northward, largely taking its place, is the Canoe Birch; it is a large-growing tree, and has a pure white bark and upright growth. In the summer, when covered with its own foliage, and surrounded by other trees, the white bark gives a peculiar charm to the landscape, as it is seen through the foliage in patches and lines, here and there.

In winter, groups of these trees are almost dazzling in their whiteness when stripped of their leafy covering, but they give a marked character to the winter landscape in our northern woods, and when distance blends their severe whiteness with the surroundings, they form charming pictures.

The Red Birch (Betula nigra), is, in its way, equally as conspicuous as its whiterobed sisters. It is a rare tree, and is found growing most abundantly along our river banks, where it can push its roots into the cool, running water. Young trees have a dark red, close bark, but as they advance in age and size, the thin outside bark pulls off and hangs in flakes to the trunk, and contrasts strangely with the light reddish-buff of the bark beneath. The branches are long and slender, pushing upwards and outwards with a graceful sweep; the foliage has a silvery hue, and as the slender branches are swayed by the wind, it is one of the most graceful of our Birches, and seems proud of its charms, for on the river banks it will bend far over where it can see its own image reflected in the water below.

The Yellow Birch (Betula lutea), is common in our moist woods, and is also conspicuous on account of the shaggy appearance of the trunk, covered as it is with thin curly flakes of yellowish bark.

The Black or Cherry Birch (Betula lenta) is found growing with the Yellow Birch, and is similar in character to it, but has not the shaggy bark; it makes a fine large tree with oval outline and slender

branches, and is a valuable timber tree, the wood having much the appearance of Cherry when finished. The bark on the young twigs is a rich, glossy brown and is very aromatic, having the pleasant taste of the Checkerberry.

We have two interesting dwarf forms of the Birch, both with slender branches and small leaves; one, the Low Birch (Betula pumila), grows in bogs to the northward, the other. the Dwarf Birch (Betula glandulosa) is found on the higher mountain tops of New York and New England.

Trees that are so attractive in their native homes are certainly worthy of a place in our ornamental grounds and along street sides.

The White Birch is short lived, but will grow on the poorest soil, and is a very graceful small tree; it would be valuable to plant in groups of trees where its place will be taken by others when they are of large size.

The Canoe Birch is a really valuable ornamental tree; it is long-lived and free from insect enemies, with rapid growth and pleasing foliage; its great value is in its pure white bark which is especially conspicuous on trees of medium size. Young trees are quite symmetrical, but as they grow older the top breaks into a more irregular outline and the staring whiteness of the bark is relieved by occasional patches of black and brown. Planted sparingly among other trees the Canoe Birch makes a pleasing contrast.

The Red Birch is seldom seen in cultivation. It is rapid growing, and young trees are clothed to the ground with branches, making a tree broad at the base and tapering to a point; this conical habit is retained, as it becomes older and looses its lower branches. Its many good qualities should give it a prominent place in ornamental planting.

The Black and Yellow Birches are similar in outline, with broad, oval heads, and dark colored trunks and branches; fine trees for lawn or park.

Several of our most popular ornamental trees are varieties of the European Birch.

The Cut-Leaf Weeping Birch is now seen in every town. Young's Weeping Birch is becoming common, the Purple and the Pyramidal Birch are frequently met with in ornamental grounds. These are

all beautiful and interesting varieties, very valuable for lawn planting, and we may look for equally valuable varieties from our native Birches.

For those wishing to give their places a distinct character, the genus Betula is particularly well suited; there is a great

variety in size, habit and foliage, and by a combination of the wild forms and the horticultural varieties a charming and interesting arrangement could be made, and no prettier name could be given a home than THE BIRches. WARREN H. MANNING.

The annual Agrostemmas, or, more properly, Viscarias, form, when taken together, a genus of remarkably free-flowering plants that are deserving of a place in every mixed border, on account of their being so valuable where cut flowers are in demand. They are plants whose merits are as yet but little known, but are well deserving of a little more care and attention than has been bestowed upon them of late. They are plants easily grown, doing best in a deep, well enriched, sandy loam, and the small, various colored flowers, which bear a considerable resemblance to single Pinks, are produced in the greatest profusion from July until frost. They belong to the natural order Caryophyllaceae, and are hardy annuals, growing from one and a half to two feet in height.

The Viscarias are plants easily cultivated, and do best and flower much earlier when the seed is started under glass; so, to effect this desired object, the seed should be sown about the first of April, in a well drained pot or pan filled with light loamy soil. Sow the seed thinly, cover slightly, and place in a warm, moist situation, as close to the glass as possible. As soon as the young plants are

strong enough to handle, they should be transferred into shallow boxes filled with moderately enriched loamy soil and placed in rows an inch and a half apart each way. Keep them close and moist for a few days, or until growth commences, then remove to a cold-frame, and grow on until the weather becomes warm and settled, when they can be transferred to the mixed border, or planted out in beds. If planted in beds let the plants stand about one foot apart. Not only do the plants grow much better, but their flowers are much larger if given a little