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HOW TO KNOW THE WILD FLOWERS
A Guide
TO THE NAMES, HAUNTS, AND HABITS OF OUR COMMON WILD FLOWERS

BY

MRS. WILLIAM STARR DANA

ILLUSTRATED BY

MARION SATTERLEE

“The first conscious thought about wild flowers was to find out their names—the first conscious pleasure—and then I began to see so many that I had not previously noticed. Once you wish to identify them, there is nothing escapes, down to the little white chickweed of the path and the moss of the wall.”

—Richard Jefferies

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

1893

Copyright, 1893, by

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

TROW DIRECTORY

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY

NEW YORK

CONTENTS

One of these days some one will give us a hand-book of our wild flowers, by the aid of which we shall all be able to name those we gather in our walks without the trouble of analyzing them. In this book we shall have a list of all our flowers arranged according to color, as white flowers, blue flowers, yellow flowers, pink flowers, etc., with place of growth and time of blooming.

John Burroughs.

PREFACE

The pleasure of a walk in the woods and fields is enhanced a hundredfold by some little knowledge of the flowers which we meet at every turn. Their names alone serve as a clew to their entire histories, giving us that sense of companionship with our surroundings which is so necessary to the full enjoyment of outdoor life. But if we have never studied botany it has been no easy matter to learn these names, for we find that the very people who have always lived among the flowers are often ignorant of even their common titles, and frequently increase our eventual confusion by naming them incorrectly. While it is more than probable that any attempt to attain our end by means of some “Key,” which positively bristles with technical terms and outlandish titles, has only led us to replace the volume in despair, sighing with Emerson, that these scholars

Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not,

And all their botany is Latin names!

So we have ventured to hope that such a book as this will not be altogether unwelcome, and that our readers will find that even a bowing acquaintance with the flowers repays one generously for the effort expended in its achievement. Such an acquaintance serves to transmute the tedium of a railway journey into the excitement of a tour of discovery. It causes the monotony of a drive through an ordinarily uninteresting country to be forgotten in the diversion of noting the wayside flowers, and counting a hundred different species where formerly less than a dozen would have been detected. It invests each boggy meadow and bit of rocky woodland with almost irresistible charm. Surely Sir John Lubbock is right in maintaining that “those who love Nature can never be dull,” provided that love be expressed by an intelligent interest rather than by a purely sentimental rapture.

Ninety-seven of the one hundred and four plates in this book are from original drawings from nature. Of the remaining seven plates, six (Nos. LXXX., XCIX., CI., XXII., XLII., LXXXI.), and the illustration of the complete flower, in the Explanation of Terms, are adapted with alterations from standard authors, part of the work in the first three plates mentioned being original. Plate IV. has been adapted from “American Medicinal Plants,” by kind permission of the author, Dr. C. F. Millspaugh. The reader should always consult the “Flower Descriptions” in order to learn the actual dimensions of the different plants, as it has not always been possible to preserve their relative sizes in the illustrations. The aim in the drawings has been to help the reader to identify the flowers described in the text, and to this end they are presented as simply as possible, with no attempt at artistic arrangement or grouping.

We desire to express our thanks to Miss Harriet Procter, of Cincinnati, for her assistance and encouragement. Acknowledgment of their kind help is also due to Mrs. Seth Doane, of Orleans, Massachusetts, and to Mr. Eugene P. Bicknell, of Riverdale, New York. To Dr. N. L. Britton, of Columbia College, we are indebted for permission to work in the College Herbarium.

New York, March 15, 1893.

HOW TO USE THE BOOK

Many difficulties have been encountered in the arrangement of this guide to the flowers. To be really useful such a guide must be of moderate size, easily carried in the woods and fields; yet there are so many flowers, and there is so much to say about them, that we have been obliged to control our selection and descriptions by certain regulations which we hope will commend themselves to the intelligence of our readers and secure their indulgence should any special favorite be conspicuous by its absence.

These regulations may be formulated briefly as follows:

1. Flowers so common as to be generally recognized are omitted, unless some peculiarity or fact in their history entitles them to special mention.

Under this, Buttercups, Wild Roses, Thistles, and others are ruled out.

2. Flowers so inconspicuous as generally to escape notice are usually omitted.

Here Ragweed, Plantain, and others are excluded.

3. Rare flowers and escapes from gardens are usually omitted.

4. Those flowers are chosen for illustration which seem entitled to prominence on account of their beauty, interest, or frequent occurrence.

5. Flowers which have less claim upon the general public than those chosen for illustration and full description, yet which are sufficiently common or conspicuous to arouse occasional curiosity, are necessarily dismissed with as brief a description as seems compatible with their identification.

In parts of New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and in the vicinity of Washington, I have been enabled to describe many of our wild flowers from personal observation; and I have endeavored to increase the usefulness of the book by including as well those comparatively few flowers not found within the range mentioned, but commonly encountered at some point this side of Chicago.

The grouping according to color was suggested by a passage in one of Mr. Burroughs’s “Talks about Flowers.” It seemed, on careful consideration, to offer an easier identification than any other arrangement. One is constantly asked the name of some “little blue flower,” or some “large pink flower,” noted by the wayside. While both the size and color of a flower fix themselves in the mind of the casual observer, the color is the more definitely appreciated characteristic of the two and serves far better as a clew to its identification.

When the flowers are brought in from the woods and fields they should be sorted according to color and then traced to their proper places in the various sections. As far as possible the flowers have been arranged according to the seasons’ sequence, the spring flowers being placed in the first part of each section, the summer flowers next, and the autumn flowers last.

It has sometimes been difficult to determine the proper position of a flower—blues, purples, and pinks shading so gradually one into another as to cause difference of opinion as to the color of a blossom among the most accurate. So if the object of our search is not found in the first section consulted, we must turn to that other one which seems most likely to include it.

It has seemed best to place in the White section those flowers which are so faintly tinted with other colors as to give a white effect in the mass, or when seen at a distance. Some flowers are so green as to seem almost entitled to a section of their own, but if closely examined the green is found to be so diluted with white as to render them describable by the term greenish-white. A white flower veined with pink will also be described in the White section, unless its general effect should be so pink as to entitle it to a position in the Pink section. Such a flower again as the Painted Cup is placed in the Red section because its floral leaves are so red that probably none but the botanist would appreciate that the actual flowers were yellow. Flowers which fail to suggest any definite color are relegated to the Miscellaneous section.

With the description of each flower is given—

1. Its common English name—if one exists. This may be looked upon as its “nickname,” a title attached to it by chance, often endeared to us by long association, the name by which it may be known in one part of the country but not necessarily in another, and about which, consequently, a certain amount of disagreement and confusion often arises.

2. Its scientific name. This compensates for its frequent lack of euphony by its other advantages. It is usually composed of two Latin—or Latinized—words, and is the same in all parts of the world (which fact explains the necessity of its Latin form). Whatever confusion may exist as to a flower’s English name, its scientific one is an accomplished fact—except in those rare cases where an undescribed species is encountered—and rarely admits of dispute. The first word of this title indicates the genus of the plant. It is a substantive, answering to the last or family name of a person, and shows the relationship of all the plants which bear it. The second word indicates the species. It is usually an adjective, which betrays some characteristic of the plant, or it may indicate the part of the country in which it is found, or the person in whose honor it was named.

3. The English title of the larger Family to which the plant belongs. All flowers grouped under this title have in common certain important features which in many cases are too obscure to be easily recognized; while in others they are quite obvious. One who wishes to identify the flowers with some degree of ease should learn to recognize at sight such Families as present conspicuously characteristic features.

For fuller definitions, explanations, and descriptions than are here given, Gray’s text-books and “Manual” should be consulted. After some few flowers have been compared with the partially technical description which prefaces each popular one, little difficulty should be experienced in the use of a botanical key. Many of the measurements and technical descriptions have been based upon Gray’s “Manual.” It has been thought best to omit any mention of species and varieties not included in the latest edition of that work.

An ordinary magnifying glass (such as can be bought for seventy-five cents), a sharp penknife, and one or two dissecting-needles will be found useful in the examination of the smaller flowers. The use of a note-book, with jottings as to the date, color, surroundings, etc., of any newly identified flower, is recommended. This habit impresses on the memory easily forgotten but important details. Such a book is also valuable for further reference, both for our own satisfaction when some point which our experience had already determined has been forgotten, and for the settlement of the many questions which are sure to arise among flower-lovers as to the localities in which certain flowers are found, the dates at which they may be expected to appear and disappear, and various other points which even the scientific books sometimes fail to decide.

Some of the flowers described are found along every country highway. It is interesting to note that these wayside flowers may usually be classed among the foreign population. They have been brought to us from Europe in ballast and in loads of grain, and invariably follow in the wake of civilization. Many of our most beautiful native flowers have been crowded out of the hospitable roadside by these aggressive, irresistible, and mischievous invaders; for Mr. Burroughs points out that nearly all of our troublesome weeds are emigrants from Europe. We must go to the more remote woods and fields if we wish really to know our native plants. Swamps especially offer an eagerly sought asylum to our shy and lovely wild flowers.

LIST OF PLATES

Most young people find botany a dull study. So it is, as taught from the text-books in the schools; but study it yourself in the fields and woods, and you will find it a source of perennial delight.

John Burroughs.

HOW TO KNOW THE WILD FLOWERS

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER

Until a comparatively recent period the interest in plants centred largely in the medicinal properties, and sometimes in the supernatural powers, which were attributed to them.

—O who can tell

The hidden power of herbes and might of magick spell?—

sang Spenser in the “Faerie Queene;” and to this day the names of many of our wayside plants bear witness, not alone to the healing properties which their owners were supposed to possess, but also to the firm hold which the so-called “doctrine of signatures” had upon the superstitious mind of the public. In an early work on “The Art of Simpling,” by one William Coles, we read as follows: “Yet the mercy of God which is over all his works, maketh Grasse to grow upon the Mountains and Herbes for the use of men, and hath not only stamped upon them a distinct forme, but also given them particular signatures, whereby a man may read, even in legible characters, the use of them.” Our hepatica or liver-leaf, owes both its generic and English titles to its leaves, which suggested the form of the organ after which the plant is named, and caused it to be considered “a sovereign remedy against the heat and inflammation of the liver.”[^[1]]

Although his once-renowned system of classification has since been discarded on account of its artificial character, it is probably to Linnæus that the honor is due of having raised the study of plants to a rank which had never before been accorded it. The Swedish naturalist contrived to inspire his disciples with an enthusiasm and to invest the flowers with a charm and personality which awakened a wide-spread interest in the subject. It is only since his day that the unscientific nature-lover, wandering through those woods and fields where

—wide around, the marriage of the plants

Is sweetly solemnized—

has marvelled to find the same laws in vogue in the floral as in the animal world.

To Darwin we owe our knowledge of the significance of color, form, and fragrance in flowers. These subjects have been widely discussed during the last twenty-five years, because of their close connection with the theory of natural selection; they have also been more or less enlarged upon in modern text-books. Nevertheless, it seems wiser to repeat what is perhaps already known to the reader, and to allude to some of the interesting theories connected with these topics, rather than to incur the risk of obscurity by omitting all explanation of facts and deductions to which it is frequently necessary to refer.

It is agreed that the object of a flower’s life is the making of seed, i.e., the continuance of its kind. Consequently its most essential parts are its reproductive organs, the stamens, and the pistil or pistils.

The stamens (p. [11]) are the fertilizing organs. These produce the powdery, quickening material called pollen, in little sacs which are borne at the tips of their slender stalks.

The pistil (p. [11]) is the seed-bearing organ. The pollen-grains which are deposited on its roughened summit throw out minute tubes which reach the little ovules in the ovary below and quicken them into life.

These two kinds of organs can easily be distinguished in any large, simple, complete flower (p. [10]). The pollen of the stamens, and the ovules which line the base of the pistil, can also be detected with the aid of an ordinary magnifying glass.

Now, we have been shown that nature apparently prefers that the pistil of a flower should not receive its pollen from the stamens in the same flower-cup with itself. Experience teaches that, sometimes, when this happens no seeds result. At other times the seeds appear, but they are less healthy and vigorous than those which are the outcome of cross-fertilization—the term used by botanists to describe the quickening of the ovules in one blossom by the pollen from another.

But perhaps we hardly realize the importance of abundant health and vigor in a plant’s offspring.

Let us suppose that our eyes are so keen as to enable us to note the different seeds which, during one summer, seek to secure a foothold in some few square inches of the sheltered roadside. The neighboring herb Roberts and jewel-weeds discharge—catapult fashion—several small invaders into the very heart of the little territory. A battalion of silky-tufted seeds from the cracked pods of the milkweed float downward and take lazy possession of the soil, while the heavy rains wash into their immediate vicinity those of the violet from the overhanging bank. The hooked fruit of the stick-tight is finally brushed from the hair of some exasperated animal by the jagged branches of the neighboring thicket and is deposited on the disputed ground, while a bird passing just overhead drops earthward the seed of the partridge berry. The ammunition of the witch-hazel, too, is shot into the midst of this growing colony; to say nothing of a myriad more little squatters that are wafted or washed or dropped or flung upon this one bit of earth, which is thus transformed into a bloodless battle-ground, and which is incapable of yielding nourishment to one-half or one-tenth or even one hundredth of these tiny strugglers for life!

So, to avoid diminishing the vigor of their progeny by self-fertilization (the reverse of cross-fertilization), various species take various precautions. In one species the pistil is so placed that the pollen of the neighboring stamens cannot reach it. In others one of these two organs ripens before the other, with the result that the contact of the pollen with the stigma of the pistil would be ineffectual. Often the stamens and pistils are in different flowers, sometimes on different plants. But these pistils must, if possible, receive the necessary pollen in some way and fulfil their destiny by setting seed. And we have been shown that frequently it is brought to them by insects, occasionally by birds, and that sometimes it is blown to them by the winds.

Ingenious devices are resorted to in order to secure these desirable results. Many flowers make themselves useful to the insect world by secreting somewhere within their dainty cups little glands of honey, or, more properly speaking, nectar, for honey is the result of the bees’ work. This nectar is highly prized by the insects and is, in many cases, the only object which attracts them to the flowers, although sometimes the pollen, which Darwin believes to have been the only inducement offered formerly, is sought as well.

But of course this nectar fails to induce visits unless the bee’s attention is first attracted to the blossom, and it is tempted to explore the premises; and we now observe the interesting fact that those flowers which depend upon insect-agency for their pollen, usually advertise their whereabouts by wearing bright colors or by exhaling fragrance. It will also be noticed that a flower sufficiently conspicuous to arrest attention by its appearance alone is rarely fragrant.

When, attracted by either of these significant characteristics,—color or fragrance,—the bee alights upon the blossom, it is sometimes guided to the very spot where the nectar lies hidden by markings of some vivid color. Thrusting its head into the heart of the flower for the purpose of extracting the secreted treasure, it unconsciously strikes the stamens with sufficient force to cause them to powder its body with pollen. Soon it flies away to another plant of the same kind, where, in repeating the process just described, it unwittingly brushes some of the pollen from the first blossom upon the pistil of the second, where it helps to make new seeds. Thus these busy bees which hum so restlessly through the long summer days are working better than they know and are accomplishing more important feats than the mere honey-making which we usually associate with their ceaseless activity.

Those flowers which are dependent upon night-flying insects for their pollen, contrive to make themselves noticeable by wearing white or pale yellow,—red, blue, and pink being with difficulty detected in the darkness. They, too, frequently indicate their presence by exhaling perfume, which in many cases increases in intensity as the night falls, and a clue to their whereabouts becomes momentarily more necessary. This fact partially accounts for the large proportion of fragrant white flowers. Darwin found that the proportion of sweet-scented white flowers to sweet-scented red ones was 14.6 per cent. of white to 8.2 of red.

We notice also that some of these night-fertilized flowers close during the day, thus insuring themselves against the visits of insects which might rob them of their nectar or pollen, and yet be unfitted by the shape of their bodies to accomplish their fertilization. On the other hand, many blossoms which are dependent upon the sun-loving bees close at night, securing the same advantage.

Then there are flowers which close in the shade, others at the approach of a storm, thus protecting their pollen and nectar from the dissolving rain; others at the same time every day. Linnæus invented a famous “flower-clock,” which indicated the hours of the day by the closing of different flowers. This habit of closing has been called the “sleep of flowers.”

There is one far from pleasing class of flowers which entices insect-visitors,—not by attractive colors and alluring fragrance—but “by deceiving flies through their resemblance to putrid meat—imitating the lurid appearance as well as the noisome smell of carrion.”[^[2]] Our common carrion-flower, which covers the thickets so profusely in early summer that Thoreau complained that every bush and copse near the river emitted an odor which led one to imagine that all the dead dogs in the neighborhood had drifted to its shore, is probably an example of this class, without lurid color, but certainly with a sufficiently noisome smell! Yet this foul odor seems to answer the plant’s purpose as well as their delicious aroma does that of more refined blossoms, if the numberless small flies which it manages to attract are fitted to successfully transmit its pollen.

Certain flowers are obviously adapted to the visits of insects by their irregular forms. The fringed or otherwise conspicuous lip and long nectar-bearing spur of many orchids point to their probable dependence upon insect-agency for perpetuation; while the papilionaceous blossoms of the Pulse family also betray interesting adaptations for cross-fertilization by the same means. Indeed it is believed that irregularity of form is rarely conspicuous in a blossom that is not visited by insects.

The position of a nodding flower, like the harebell, protects its pollen and nectar from the rain and dew; while the hairs in the throat of many blossoms answer the same purpose and exclude useless insects as well.

Another class of flowers which calls for special mention is that which is dependent upon the wind for its pollen. It is interesting to observe that this group expends little effort in useless adornment. “The wind bloweth where it listeth” and takes no note of form or color. So here we find those

Wan flowers without a name,

which, unheeded, line the wayside. The common plantain of the country dooryard, from whose long tremulous stamens the light, dry pollen is easily blown, is a familiar example of this usually ignored class. Darwin first observed, that “when a flower is fertilized by the wind it never has a gayly colored corolla.” Fragrance and nectar as well are usually denied these sombre blossoms. Such is the occasional economy of that at times most reckless of all spendthrifts—nature!

Some plants—certain violets and the jewel-weeds among others—bear small inconspicuous blossoms which depend upon no outside agency for fertilization. These never open, thus effectually guarding their pollen from the possibility of being blown away by the wind, dissolved by the rain, or stolen by insects. They are called cleistogamous flowers.

Nature’s clever devices for securing a wide dispersion of seeds have been already hinted at. One is tempted to dwell at length upon the ingenious mechanism of the elastically bursting capsules of one species, and the deft adjustment of the silky sails which waft the seeds of others; on the barbed fruits which have pressed the most unwilling into their prickly service, and the bright berries which so temptingly invite the hungry winter birds to peck at them till their precious contents are released, or to devour them, digesting only the pulpy covering and allowing the seeds to escape uninjured into the earth at some conveniently remote spot.

Then one would like to pause long enough to note the slow movements of the climbing plants and the uncanny ways of the insect-devourers. At our very feet lie wonders for whose elucidation a lifetime would be far too short. Yet if we study for ourselves the mysteries of the flowers, and, when daunted, seek their interpretation in those devoted students who have made this task part of their life-work, we may hope finally to attain at least a partial insight into those charmed lives which find

—tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

EXPLANATION OF TERMS

The comprehension of the flower descriptions and of the opening chapters will be facilitated by the reading of the following explanation of terms. For words or expressions other than those which are included in this section, the Index of Technical Terms at the end of the book should be consulted.

The Root of a plant is the part which grows downward into the ground and absorbs nourishment from the soil. True roots bear nothing besides root-branches or rootlets.

“The Stem is the axis of the plant, the part which bears all the other organs.” (Gray.)

A Rootstock is a creeping stem which grows beneath the surface of the earth. (See Blood-root and Solomon’s Seal. Pls. I. and X.)

A Tuber is a thickened end of a rootstock, bearing buds,—“eyes,”—on its sides. The common Potato is a familiar example of a tuber, being a portion of the stem of the potato plant.

A Corm is a short, thick, fleshy underground stem which sends off roots from its lower face. (See Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Pl. CIV.)

A Bulb is an underground stem, the main body of which consists of thickened scales, which are in reality leaves or leaf bases, as in the onion.

A Simple Stem is one which does not branch.

A Stemless plant is one which bears no obvious stem, but only leaves and flower-stalks, as in the Common Blue Violet and Liver-leaf (Pl. LXXXIV.).

A Scape is the leafless flower-stalk of a stemless plant. (See Liver-leaf (Pl. LXXXIV.).)

An Entire Leaf is one the edge of which is not cut or lobed in any way. (See Rhododendron, Pl. XVI., and Closed Gentian, Pl. C.)

A Simple Leaf is one which is not divided into leaflets; its edges may be either lobed or entire. (See Rhododendron, Pl. XVI.; also Fig. 1.)

Fig. 1.

Fig. 2.

Fig. 3.

A Compound Leaf is one which is divided into leaflets, as in the Wild Rose, Pink Clover, and Travellers’ Joy (Pl. XXXI., also Fig. 2).

A Much-divided Leaf is one which is several times divided into leaflets (Fig. 3).

The Axil of a leaf is the upper angle formed by a leaf or leaf-stalk and the stem.

Flowers which grow from the axils of the leaves are said to be Axillary.

A cluster in which the flowers are arranged—each on its own stalk—along the sides of a common stem or stalk is called a Raceme. (See Cardinal-flower, Pl. LXXXIII.; Shin-leaf, Pl. XVIII.)

A cluster in which the flower-stalks all spring from apparently the same point, as in the Milkweeds, somewhat suggesting the spreading ribs of an umbrella, is called an Umbel (Pl. LXXXI.).

A cluster which is formed of a number of small umbels, all of the stalks of which start from apparently the same point, is called a Compound Umbel. (See Wild Carrot, Pl. XXVIII.)

A close, circular flower-cluster, like that of Pink Clover or Dandelion, is called a Head. (See Oswego Tea, Pl. LXXXII.; Sunflower, Pl. LVII.)

A flower-cluster along the lengthened axis of which the flowers are sessile or closely set is called a Spike. (See Vervain, Pl. XCII.; Mullein, Pl. LI.)

A Spadix is a fleshy spike or head, with small and often imperfect flowers, as in the Jack-in-the-Pulpit, and Skunk Cabbage (Pls. CII. and CIV., also Fig. 4).

Fig. 4.

Fig. 5.

Fig. 6.

A Spathe is the peculiar leaf-like bract which usually envelopes a spadix. (See Jack-in-the-Pulpit and Skunk Cabbage, Pls. CII. and CIV., also Fig. 5.)

A leaf or flower which is set so close in the stem as to show no sign of a separate leaf or flower-stalk, is said to be Sessile.

A Complete Flower (Fig. 6) is “that part of a plant which subserves the purpose of producing seed, consisting of stamens and pistils, which are the essential organs, and the calyx and corolla, which are the protecting organs.” (Gray.)

The green outer flower-cup, or outer set of green leaves, which we notice at the base of many flowers, is the Calyx (Fig. 6 Ca). At times this part is brightly colored and may be the most conspicuous feature of the flower.

When the calyx is divided into separate leaves, these leaves are called Sepals.

The inner flower-cup or the inner set of leaves is the Corolla (Fig. 6, C).

When the corolla is divided into separate leaves, these leaves are called Petals.

We can look upon calyx and corolla as the natural tapestry which protects the delicate organs of the flower, and serves as well, in many cases, to attract the attention of passing insects. In some flowers only one of these two parts is present; in such a case the single cup or set of floral leaves is generally considered to be the calyx.

The floral leaves may be spoken of collectively as the Perianth. This word is used especially in describing members of families where there might be difficulty in deciding as to whether the single set of floral leaves present should be considered calyx or corolla (see Lilies, Pls. XLV. and LXXX.); or where the petals and sepals can only be distinguished with difficulty, as with the Orchids.

Fig. 7.

Fig. 8.

The Stamens (Fig. 7) are the fertilizing organs of the flower. A stamen usually consists of two parts, its Filament (F), or stalk, and its Anther (A), the little sac at the tip of the filament which produces the dust-like, fertilizing substance called Pollen (p.).

The Pistil (Fig. 8) is the seed-bearing organ of the flower. When complete it consists of Ovary (O), Style (Sty.), and Stigma (Stg.).

The Ovary is the hollow portion at the base of the pistil. It contains the ovules or rudimentary seeds which are quickened into life by the pollen.

The Style is the slender tapering stalk above the ovary.

The Stigma is usually the tip of the style. The pollen-grains which are deposited upon its moist roughened surface throw out minute tubes which penetrate to the little ovules of the ovary and cause them to ripen into seeds.

A flower which has neither stamens nor pistils is described as Neutral.

A flower with only one kind of these organs is termed Unisexual.

A Male or Staminate flower is one with stamens but without pistils.

A Female or Pistillate flower is one with pistils but without stamens.

The Fruit of a plant is the ripened seed-vessel or seed-vessels, including the parts which are intimately connected with it or them.

NOTABLE PLANT FAMILIES

Although the great majority of plant families can only be distinguished by a combination of characteristics which are too obscure to obtain any general recognition, there are some few instances where these family traits are sufficiently conspicuous to be of great assistance in the ready identification of flowers.

If, for instance, we recognize at sight a papilionaceous blossom and know that such an one only occurs in the Pulse family, we save the time and energy which might otherwise have been expended on the comparison of a newly found blossom of this character with the descriptions of flowers of a different lineage. Consequently it has seemed wise briefly to describe the marked features of such important families as generally admit of easy identification.

Composite Family.—It is fortunate for the amateur botanist that the plant family which usually secures the quickest recognition should also be the largest in the world. The members of the Composite family attract attention in every quarter of the globe, and make themselves evident from early spring till late autumn, but more especially with us during the latter season.

The most noticeable characteristic of the Composites is the crowding of a number of small flowers into a close cluster or head, which head is surrounded by an involucre, and has the effect of a single blossom. Although this grouping of small flowers in a head is not peculiar to this tribe, the same thing being found in the clovers, the milkworts, and in various other plants—still a little experience will enable one to distinguish a Composite without any analysis of the separate blossoms which form the head.

These heads vary greatly in size and appearance. At times they are large and solitary, as in the dandelion. Again they are small and clustered, as in the yarrow (Pl. XXVIII.).

In some genera they are composed of flowers which are all similar in form and color, as in the dandelion, where all the corollas are strap-shaped and yellow; or, as in the common thistle, where they are all tubular-shaped and pinkish-purple.

In others they are made up of both kinds of flowers, as in the daisy, where only the yellow central or disk-flowers are tubular-shaped, while the white outer or ray-flowers are strap-shaped. The flower-heads of the well-known asters and golden-rods are composed of both ray and disk-flowers also; but while the ray-flowers of the aster, like those of the daisy, wear a different color from the yellow disk-flowers, both kinds are yellow in the golden-rod.

If the dandelion or the chicory (Pl. XCVIII.) is studied as an example of a head which is composed entirely of strap-shaped blossoms; the common thistle or the stick-tight (Pl. LVIII.) as an example of one which is made up of tubular-shaped blossoms; and the daisy or the sunflower (Pl. LVII.) as an example of one which combines ray and disk-flowers—as the strap-shaped and tubular blossoms are called when both are present—there need be little difficulty in the after recognition of a member of this family. The identification of a particular species or even genus will be a less simple matter; the former being a task which has been known to tax the patience of even advanced botanists.

Mr. Grant Allen believes that the Composites largely owe their universal sway to their “co-operative system.” He says: “If we look close into the Daisy we see that its centre comprises a whole mass of little yellow bells, each of which consists of corolla, stamens, and pistil. The insect which alights on the head can take his fill in a leisurely way, without moving from his standing-place; and meanwhile he is proving a good ally of the plant by fertilizing one after another of its numerous ovaries. Each tiny bell by itself would prove too inconspicuous to attract much attention from the passing bee; but union is strength for the Daisy as for the State, and the little composites have found their co-operative system answer so well, that late as was their appearance upon the earth they are generally considered at the present day to be the most numerous family both in species and individuals of all flowering plants.” While those of us who know the country lanes at that season when

—ranks of seeds their witness bear,

feel that much of their omnipresence is due to their unsurpassed facilities for globe-trotting. Our roadsides every autumn are lined with tall golden-rods, whose brown, velvety clusters are composed of masses of tiny seeds whose downy sails are set for their aerial voyage; with asters, whose myriad flower-heads are transformed into little puff-balls which are awaiting dissolution by the November winds, and with others of the tribe whose hooked seeds win a less ethereal but equally effective transportation.

Parsley Family.—The most familiar representative of the Parsley family is the wild carrot, which so profusely decks the highways throughout the summer with its white, lace-like clusters; while the meadow parsnip is perhaps the best known of its yellow members.

This family can usually be recognized by the arrangement of its minute flowers in umbels (p. [9]), which umbels are again so clustered as to form a compound umbel (Wild Carrot, Pl. XXVIII.) whose radiating stalks suggest the ribs of an umbrella, and give this Order its Latin name of Umbelliferæ.

A close examination of the tiny flowers which compose these umbrella-like clusters discovers that each one has five white or yellow petals, five stamens, and a two-styled pistil. Sometimes the calyx shows five minute teeth. The leaves are usually divided into leaflets or segments which are often much toothed or incised.

The Parsleys are largely distinguished from one another by differences in their fruit, which can only be detected with the aid of a microscope. It is hoped, however, that the more common and noticeable species will be recognized by means of descriptions which give their general appearance, season of blooming, and favorite haunts.

Pulse Family.—The Pulse family includes many of our common wood- and field-flowers. The majority of its members are easily distinguished by those irregular, butterfly-shaped blossoms which are described as papilionaceous. The sweet pea is a familiar example of such a flower, and a study of its curious structure renders easy the after identification of a papilionaceous blossom, even if it be as small as one of the many which make up the head of the common pink clover.

The calyx of such a flower is of five more or less—and sometimes unequally—united sepals. The corolla consists of five irregular petals, the upper one of which is generally wrapped about the others in bud, while it spreads or turns backward in flower. This petal is called the standard. The two side petals are called wings. The two lower ones are usually somewhat united and form a sort of pouch which encloses the stamens and style; this is called the keel, from a fancied likeness to the prow of an ancient vessel. There are usually ten stamens and one pistil.

These flowers are peculiarly adapted to cross-fertilization through insect agency, although one might imagine the contrary to be the case from the relative positions of stamens and pistil. In the pea-blossom, for example, the hairy portion of the style receives the pollen from the early maturing stamens. The weight of a visiting bee projects the stigma and the pollen-laden style against the insect’s body. But it must be observed that in this action the stigma first brushes against the bee, while the pollen-laden style touches him later, with the result that the bee soon flies to another flower on whose fresh stigma the detached pollen is left, while a new cargo of this valuable material is unconsciously secured, and the same process is indefinitely repeated.

Mint Family.—A member of the Mint family usually exhales an aromatic fragrance which aids us to place it correctly. If to this characteristic is added a square stem, opposite leaves, a two-lipped corolla, four stamens in pairs—two being longer than the others—or two stamens only, and a pistil whose style (two-lobed at the apex) rises from a deeply four-lobed ovary which splits apart in fruit into four little seed-like nutlets, we may feel sure that one of the many Mints is before us.

Sometimes we think we have encountered one of the family because we find the opposite leaves, two-lipped corolla, four stamens, and an ovary that splits into four nutlets in fruit; but unless the ovary was also deeply four-lobed in the flower, the plant is probably a Vervain, a tribe which greatly resembles the Mints. The Figworts, too, might be confused with the Mints did we not always keep in mind the four-lobed ovary.

In this family we find the common catnip and pennyroyal, the pretty ground ivy, and the handsome bee balm (Pl. LXXXII.).

Mustard Family.—The Mustard family is one which is abundantly represented in waste places everywhere by the little shepherd’s purse or pickpocket, and along the roadsides by the yellow mustard, wild radish, and winter-cress (Pl. XLII.).

Its members may be recognized by their alternate leaves, their biting harmless juice, and by their white, yellow, or purplish flowers, the structure of which at once betrays the family to which they belong.

The calyx of these flowers is divided into four sepals. The four petals are placed opposite each other in pairs, their spreading blades forming a cross which gives the Order its Latin name Cruciferæ. There are usually six stamens, two of which are inserted lower down than the others. The single pistil becomes in fruit a pod. Many of the Mustards are difficult of identification without a careful examination of their pods and seeds.

Orchis Family.—To the minds of many the term orchid only suggests a tropical air-plant, which is rendered conspicuous either by its beauty or by its unusual and noticeable structure.

This impression is, perhaps, partly due to the rude print in some old text-book which endeared itself to our childish minds by those startling and extravagant illustrations which are responsible for so many shattered illusions in later life; and partly to the various exhibitions of flowers in which only the exotic members of this family are displayed.

Consequently, when the dull clusters of the ragged fringed orchis, or the muddy racemes of the coral-root, or even the slender, graceful spires of the ladies’ tresses are brought from the woods or roadside and exhibited as one of so celebrated a tribe, they are usually viewed with scornful incredulity, or, if the authority of the exhibitor be sufficient to conquer disbelief, with unqualified disappointment. The marvellous mechanism which is exhibited by the humblest member of the Orchis family, and which suffices to secure the patient scrutiny and wondering admiration of the scientist, conveys to the uninitiated as little of interest or beauty as would a page of Homer in the original to one without scholarly attainments.

The uprooting of a popular theory must be the work of years, especially when it is impossible to offer as a substitute one which is equally capable of being tersely defined and readily apprehended; for many seem to hold it a righteous principle to cherish even a delusion till it be replaced by a belief which affords an equal amount of satisfaction. It is simpler to describe an orchid as a tropical air-plant which apes the appearance of an insect and never roots in the ground than it is to master by patient study and observation the various characteristics which so combine in such a plant as to make it finally recognizable and describable. Unfortunately, too, the enumeration of these unsensational details does not appeal to the popular mind, and so fails to win by its accuracy the place already occupied by the incorrect but pleasing conception of an orchid.

For the benefit of those who wish to be able to correctly place these curious and interesting flowers, as brief a description as seems compatible with their recognition is appended.

Leaves.—Alternate, parallel-nerved.

Flowers.—Irregular in form, solitary or clustered, each one subtended by a bract.

Perianth.—Of six divisions in two sets. The three outer divisions are sepals, but they are usually petal-like in appearance. The three inner are petals. By a twist of the ovary what would otherwise be the upper petal is made the lower. This division is termed the lip; it is frequently brightly colored or grotesquely shaped, being at times deeply fringed or furrowed; it has often a spur-like appendage which secretes nectar; it is an important feature of the flower and is apparently designed to attract insects for the purpose of securing their aid in the cross-fertilization which is usually necessary for the perpetuation of the different species of this family, all of which give evidence of great modification by means of insect-selection.

In the heart of the flower is the column; this is usually composed of the stamen (of two in the Cypripediums), which is confluent with the style or thick, fleshy stigma. The two cells of the anther are placed on either side of and somewhat above the stigma; these cells hold the two pollen masses.

Darwin tells us that the flower of an orchid originally consisted of fifteen different parts, three petals, three sepals, six stamens, and three pistils. He shows traces of all these parts in the modern orchid.

FLOWER DESCRIPTIONS

“A fresh footpath, a fresh flower, a fresh delight”

Richard Jefferies

I
WHITE

Blood-root.
Sanguinaria Canadensis. Poppy Family.

Rootstock.—Thick, charged with a crimson juice. Scape.—Naked, one-flowered. Leaves.—Rounded, deeply lobed. Flower.—White, terminal. Calyx.—Of two sepals falling early. Corolla.—Of eight to twelve snow-white petals. Stamens.—About twenty-four. Pistil.—One, short.

In early April the firm tip of the curled-up leaf of the blood-root pushes through the earth and brown leaves, bearing within its carefully shielded burden—the young erect flower-bud. When the perils of the way are passed and a safe height is reached this pale, deeply lobed leaf resigns its precious charge and gradually unfolds itself; meanwhile the bud slowly swells into a blossom.

Surely no flower of all the year can vie with this in spotless beauty. Its very transitoriness enhances its charm. The snowy petals fall from about their golden centre before one has had time to grow satiated with their perfection. Unless the rocky hill-sides and wood-borders are jealously watched it may escape us altogether. One or two warm sunny days will hasten it to maturity, and a few more hours of wind and storm shatter its loveliness.

Care should be taken in picking the flower—if it must be picked—as the red liquid which oozes blood-like from the wounded stem makes a lasting stain. This crimson juice was prized by the Indians for decorating their faces and tomahawks.

Shad-bush. June-berry. Service-berry.
Amelanchier oblongifolia. Rose Family.

A tall shrub or small tree found in low ground. Leaves.—Oblong, acutely pointed, finely toothed, mostly rounded at base. Flowers.—White, growing in racemes. Calyx.—Five-cleft. Corolla.—Of five rather long petals. Stamens.—Numerous, short. Pistils.—With five styles. Fruit.—Round, red, berry-like, sweet and edible, ripening in June.

PLATE I
BLOOD-ROOT.—S. Canadensis.

Down in the boggy meadow in early March we can almost fancy that from beneath the solemn purple cowls of the skunk-cabbage brotherhood comes the joyful chorus—

For lo, the winter is past!—

but we chilly mortals still find the wind so frosty and the woods so unpromising that we return shivering to the fireside and refuse to take up the glad strain till the feathery clusters of the shad-bush droop from the pasture thicket. Then only are we ready to admit that

The flowers appear upon the earth,

The time of the singing of birds is come.

Even then, search the woods as we may, we shall hardly find thus early in April another shrub in blossom, unless it be the spice-bush, whose tiny honey-yellow flowers escape all but the careful observer. The shad-bush has been thus named because of its flowering at the season when shad “run;” June-berry, because the shrub’s crimson fruit surprises us by gleaming from the copses at the very beginning of summer; service-berry, because of the use made by the Indians of this fruit, which they gathered in great quantities, and, after much crushing and pounding, utilized in a sort of cake.

Wood Anemone. Wind-flower.
Anemone nemorosa. Crowfoot Family.

Stem.—Slender. Leaves.—Divided into delicate leaflets. Flower.—Solitary, white, pink, or purplish. Calyx.—Of from four to seven petal-like sepals. Corolla.—None. Stamens and Pistils.—Numerous.

—Within the woods,

Whose young and half transparent leaves scarce cast

A shade, gay circles of anemones

Danced on their stalks;

writes Bryant, bringing vividly before us the feathery foliage of the spring woods, and the tremulous beauty of the slender-stemmed anemones. Whittier, too, tells how these

—wind flowers sway

Against the throbbing heart of May.

PLATE II
RUE ANEMONE.—A. thalictroides.
WOOD ANEMONE.—A. nemorosa.

And in the writings of the ancients as well we could find many allusions to the same flower were we justified in believing that the blossom christened the “wind-shaken,” by some poet flower-lover of early Greece, was identical with our modern anemone.

Pliny tells us that the anemone of the classics was so entitled because it opened at the wind’s bidding. The Greek tradition claims that it sprang from the passionate tears shed by Venus over the body of the slain Adonis. At one time it was believed that the wind which had passed over a field of anemones was poisoned and that disease followed in its wake. Perhaps because of this superstition the flower was adopted as the emblem of sickness by the Persians. Surely our delicate blossom is far removed from any suggestion of disease or unwholesomeness, seeming instead to hold the very essence of spring and purity in its quivering cup.

Rue Anemone.
Anemonella thalictroides. Crowfoot Family.

Stem.—Six to twelve inches high. Leaves.—Divided into rounded leaflets. Flowers.—White or pinkish, clustered. Calyx.—Of five to ten petal-like sepals. Corolla.—None. Stamens.—Numerous. Pistils.—Four to fifteen.

The rue anemone seems to linger especially about the spreading roots of old trees. It blossoms with the wood anemone, from which it differs in bearing its flowers in clusters.

Star-flower.
Trientalis Americana. Primrose Family.

Stem.—Smooth, erect. Leaves.—Thin, pointed, whorled at the summit of the stem. Flowers.—White, delicate, star-shaped. Calyx.—Generally seven-parted. Corolla.—Generally seven-parted, flat, spreading. Stamens.—Four or five. Pistil.—One.

Finding this delicate flower in the May woods, one is at once reminded of the anemone. The whole effect of plant, leaf, and snow-white blossom is starry and pointed. The frosted tapering petals distinguish it from the rounded blossoms of the wild strawberry, near which it often grows.

PLATE III
STAR-FLOWER.—T. Americana.
Maianthemum Canadense.

——— ———
Maianthemum Canadense. Lily Family.

Stem.—Three to six inches high, with two or three leaves. Leaves.—Lance-shaped to oval, heart-shaped at base. Flowers.—White or straw-color, growing in a raceme. Perianth.—Four-parted. Stamens.—Four. Pistil.—One, with a two-lobed stigma. Fruit.—A red berry.

It seems unfair that this familiar and pretty little plant should be without any homely English name. Its botanical title signifies “Canada Mayflower,” but while it undoubtedly grows in Canada and flowers in May, the name is not a happy one, for it abounds as far south as North Carolina, and is not the first blossom to be entitled “Mayflower.”

In late summer the red berries are often found in close proximity to the fruit of the shin-leaf and pipsissewa.

Gold Thread.
Coptis trifolia. Crowfoot Family.

Scape.—Slender, three to five inches high. Leaves.—Evergreen, shining, divided into three leaflets. Flowers.—Small, white, solitary. Calyx.—Of five to seven petal-like sepals which fall early. Corolla.—Of five to seven club-shaped petals. Stamens.—Fifteen to twenty-five. Pistils.—Three to seven. Root.—Of long, bright yellow fibres.

This little plant abundantly carpets the northern bogs and extends southward over the mountains, its tiny flowers appearing in May. Its bright yellow thread-like roots give it its common name.

Pyxie. Flowering-moss.
Pyxidanthera barbulata. Order Diapensiaceæ.

Stems.—Prostrate and creeping, branching. Leaves.—Narrowly lance-shaped, awl-pointed. Flowers.—White or pink, small, numerous. Calyx.—Of five sepals. Corolla.—Five-lobed. Stamens.—Five. Pistil.—One, with a three-lobed stigma.

In early spring we may look for the white flowers of this moss-like plant in the sandy pine-woods of New Jersey and southward. At Lakewood they appear even before those of the trailing arbutus which grows in the same localities. The generic name is from two Greek words which signify a small box and anther, and refers to the anthers, which open as if by a lid.

Crinkle-root. Toothwort. Pepper-root.
Dentaria diphylla. Mustard Family (p. [17]).

Rootstock.—Five to ten inches long, wrinkled, crisp, of a pleasant, pungent taste. Stem.—Leafless below, bearing two leaves above. Leaves.—Divided into three-toothed leaflets. Flowers.—White, in a terminal cluster. Pod.—Flat and lance-shaped.

The crinkle-root has been valued—not so much on account of its pretty flowers which may be found in the rich May woods—but for its crisp edible root which has lent savor to many a simple luncheon in the cool shadows of the forest.

Spring-cress.
Cardamine rhomboidea. Mustard Family (p. [17]).

Rootstock.—Slender, bearing small tubers. Stem.—From a tuberous base, upright, slender. Root-leaves.—Round and often heart-shaped. Stem-leaves.—The lower rounded, the upper almost lance-shaped. Flowers.—White, large. Pod.—Flat, lance-shaped, pointed with a slender style tipped with a conspicuous stigma; smaller than that of the crinkle-root.

The spring-cress grows abundantly in the wet meadows and about the borders of springs. Its large white flowers appear as early as April, lasting until June.

Whitlow-grass.
Draba verna. Mustard Family (p. [17]).

Scapes.—One to three inches high. Leaves.—All from the root, oblong or lance-shaped. Flowers.—White, with two-cleft petals. Pod.—Flat, varying from oval to oblong, lance-shaped.

This little plant may be found flowering along the roadsides and in sandy places during April and May. It has come to us from Europe.

Shepherd’s Purse.
Capsella Bursa-pastoris. Mustard Family (p. [17]).

Stem.—Low, branching. Root-leaves.—Clustered, incised or toothed. Stem-leaves.—Arrow-shaped, set close to the stem. Flowers.—White, small, in general structure resembling other members of the Mustard family. Pod.—Triangular, heart-shaped.

This is one of the commonest of our wayside weeds, working its way everywhere with such persistency and appropriating other people’s property so shamelessly, that it has won for itself the nickname of pickpocket. Its popular title arose from the shape of its little seed-pods.

May-apple. Mandrake.
Podophyllum peltatum. Barberry Family.

Flowering stem.—Two-leaved, one-flowered. Flowerless stems.—Terminated by one large, rounded, much-lobed leaf. Leaves (of flowering stems).—One-sided, five to nine-lobed, the lobes oblong, the leaf-stalks fastened to their lower side near the inner edge. Flower.—White, large, nodding from the fork made by the two leaves. Calyx.—Of six early falling sepals. Corolla.—Of six to nine rounded petals. Stamens.—Twice as many as the petals. Pistil.—One, with a large, thick stigma set close to the ovary. Fruit.—A large, fleshy, egg-shaped berry, sweet and edible.

“The umbrellas are out!” cry the children, when the great green leaves of the May-apple first unfold themselves in spring. These curious-looking leaves at once betray the hiding-place of the pretty but unpleasantly odoriferous flower which nods beneath them. They lie thickly along the woods and meadows in many parts of the country, arresting one’s attention by the railways. The fruit, which ripens in July, has been given the name of “wild lemon,” in some places on account of its shape. It was valued by the Indians for medicinal purposes, and its mawkish flavor still seems to find favor with the children, notwithstanding its frequently unpleasant after-effects. The leaves and roots are poisonous if taken internally, and are said to have been used as a pot-herb, with fatal results. They yield an extract which has been utilized in medicine.

Twin-leaf. Rheumatism-root.
Jeffersonia diphylla. Barberry Family.

A low plant. Leaves.—From the root, long-stalked, parted into two rounded leaflets. Scape.—One-flowered. Flower.—White, one inch broad. Sepals.—Four, falling early. Petals.—Eight; flat, oblong. Stamens.—Eight. Pistil.—One, with a two-lobed stigma.

The twin-leaf is often found growing with the blood-root in the woods of April or May. It abounds somewhat west and southward.

Harbinger-of-Spring.
Erigenia bulbosa. Parsley Family (p. [15]).

Stem.—Three to nine inches high, from a deep round tuber. Leaves.—One or two, divided into linear-oblong leaf-segments. Flowers.—White, small, few, in a leafy-bracted compound umbel.

PLATE IV
MAY-APPLE.—P. peltatum.

The pretty little harbinger-of-spring should be easily identified by those who are fortunate enough to find it, for it is one of the smallest members of the Parsley family. It is only common in certain localities, being found in abundance in the neighborhood of Washington, where its flowers appear as early as March.

Early Everlasting. Plantain-leaved Everlasting.
Antennaria plantaginifolia. Composite Family (p. [13]).

Stems.—Downy or woolly, three to eighteen inches high. Leaves.—Silky, woolly when young; those from the root, oval, three-nerved; those on the flowering stems, small, lance-shaped. Flower-heads.—Crowded, clustered, small, yellowish-white, composed entirely of tubular flowers.

In early spring the hill-sides are whitened with this, the earliest of the everlastings.

Spring Beauty.
Claytonia Virginica. Purslane Family.

Stem.—From a small tuber, often somewhat reclining. Leaves.—Two; opposite, long and narrow. Flowers.—White, with pink veins, or pink with deeper-colored veins, growing in a loose cluster. Calyx.—Of two sepals. Corolla.—Of five petals. Stamens.—Five. Pistil.—One, with style three-cleft at apex.

So bashful when I spied her,

So pretty, so ashamed!

So hidden in her leaflets

Lest anybody find:

So breathless when I passed her,

So helpless when I turned

And bore her struggling, blushing,

Her simple haunts beyond!

For whom I robbed the dingle,

For whom betrayed the dell,

Many will doubtless ask me,

But I shall never tell!

Yet we are all free to guess—and what flower—at least in the early year, before it has gained that touch of confidence which it acquires later—is so bashful, so pretty, so flushed with rosy shame, so eager to defend its modesty by closing its blushing petals when carried off by the despoiler—as the spring beauty? To be sure, she is not “hidden in her leaflets,” although often seeking concealment beneath the leaves of other plants—but why not assume that Miss Dickinson has availed herself of something of the license so freely granted to poets—especially, it seems to me—to poets of nature? Perhaps of this class few are more accurate than she, and although we wonder at the sudden blindness which leads her to claim that

—Nature rarer uses yellow

Than another hue—

when it seems as though it needed but little knowledge of flowers to recognize that yellow, probably, occurs more frequently among them than any other color, and also at the representation of this same nature as

—Spending scarlet like a woman—

when in reality she is so chary of this splendid hue; still we cannot but appreciate that this poet was in close and peculiar sympathy with flowers, and was wont to paint them with more than customary fidelity.

PLATE V
SPRING BEAUTY.—C. Virginica.

We look for the spring beauty in April and May, and often find it in the same moist places—on a brook’s edge or skirting the wet woods—as the yellow adder’s tongue. It is sometimes mistaken for an anemone, but its rose-veined corolla and linear leaves easily identify it. Parts of the carriage-drive in the Central Park are bordered with great patches of the dainty blossoms. One is always glad to discover these children of the country within our city limits, where they can be known and loved by those other children who are so unfortunate as to be denied the knowledge of them in their usual haunts. If the day chances to be cloudy these flowers close and are only induced to open again by an abundance of sunlight. This habit of closing in the shade is common to many flowers, and should be remembered by those who bring home their treasures from the woods and fields, only to discard the majority as hopelessly wilted. If any such exhausted blossoms are placed in the sunlight, with their stems in fresh water, they will probably regain their vigor. Should this treatment fail, an application of very hot—almost boiling—water should be tried. This heroic measure often meets with success.

Dutchman’s Breeches. White-hearts.
Dicentra Cucullaria. Fumitory Family.

Scape.—Slender. Leaves.—Thrice-compound. Flowers.—White and yellow, growing in a raceme. Calyx.—Of two small, scale-like sepals. Corolla.—Closed and flattened; of four somewhat cohering white petals tipped with yellow; the two outer—large, with spreading tips and deep spurs; the two inner—small, with spoon-shaped tips uniting over the anthers and stigma. Stamens.—Six. Pistil.—One.

PLATE VI
DUTCHMAN’S BREECHES.—D. Cucullaria.

There is something singularly fragile and spring-like in the appearance of this plant as its heart-shaped blossoms nod from the rocky ledges where they thrive best. One would suppose that the firmly closed petals guarded against any intrusion on the part of insect-visitors and indicated the flower’s capacity for self-fertilization; but it is found that when insects are excluded by means of gauze no seeds are set, which goes to prove that the pollen from another flower is a necessary factor in the continuance of this species. The generic name, Dicentra, is from the Greek and signifies two-spurred. The flower, when seen, explains its two English titles. It is accessible to every New Yorker, for in early April it whitens many of the shaded ledges in the upper part of the Central Park.

Squirrel Corn.
Dicentra Canadensis. Fumitory Family.

The squirrel corn closely resembles the dutchman’s breeches. Its greenish or pinkish flowers are heart-shaped, with short, rounded spurs. They have the fragrance of hyacinths, and are found blossoming in early spring in the rich woods of the North.

Foam-flower. False Mitre-wort.
Tiarella cordifolia. Saxifrage Family.

Stem.—Five to twelve inches high, leafless, or rarely with one or two leaves. Leaves.—From the rootstock or runners, heart-shaped, sharply lobed. Flowers.—White, in a full raceme. Calyx.—Bell-shaped, five-parted. Corolla.—Of five petals on claws. Stamens.—Ten, long and slender. Pistil.—One, with two styles.

Over the hills and in the rocky woods of April and May the graceful white racemes of the foam-flower arrest our attention. This is a near relative of the Mitella or true mitre-wort. Its generic name is a diminutive from the Greek for turban, and is said to refer to the shape of the pistil.

Early Saxifrage.
Saxifraga Virginiensis. Saxifrage Family.

Scape.—Four to nine inches high. Leaves.—Clustered at the root, somewhat wedge-shaped, narrowed into a broad leaf-stalk. Flowers.—White, small, clustered. Calyx.—Five-cleft. Corolla.—Of five petals. Stamens.—Ten. Pistil.—One, with two styles.

PLATE VII
FOAM-FLOWER.—T. cordifolia.

In April we notice that the seams in the rocky cliffs and hill-sides begin to whiten with the blossoms of the early saxifrage. Steinbrech—stonebreak—the Germans appropriately entitle this little plant, which bursts into bloom from the minute clefts in the rocks and which has been supposed to cause their disintegration by its growth. The generic and common names are from saxum—a rock, and frango—to break.

Mitre-wort. Bishop’s Cap.
Mitella diphylla. Saxifrage Family.

Stem.—Six to twelve inches high, hairy, bearing two opposite leaves. Leaves.—Heart-shaped, lobed and toothed, those of the stem opposite and nearly sessile. Flowers.—White, small, in a slender raceme. Calyx.—Short, five-cleft. Corolla.—Of five slender petals which are deeply incised. Stamens.—Ten, short. Pistil.—One, with two styles.