Youth’s Companion.
Boston, July 19, 1860.
Families of Flowers.
At Home and Abroad.
“Just look, Lucilla, at these little blue flowers that are growing by the road-side,” said Anne, as the two girls were walking together, one morning.
Lucilla stopped to gather some, saying, as she did so:
“I wonder that we never before this, have gathered these. I have seen them before, but never noticed them particularly.”
“We didn’t use to look for flowers as we do now,” said Anne, “and just before us a little distance, I see a patch of them growing so thickly that the ground appears entirely blue. I have seen the girls at school with these flowers in their hands. They called it Innocence.”
“It looks innocent enough,” said the other.”
By this time they had come to the slightly swelling bank which they found covered with myriads of the delicate little flower which they were considering. Just below, the ground was damp and springy, but there was a prostrate birch tree upon the hare dry boughs of which they sat down. They had gathered a good many of the flowers, and now tried to examine them. Lucilla tore one of them apart, and looking at it attentively, exclaimed:
“I see four little yellow stamens. They are so small, that I can hardly see them. The inside of the petals is yellow, too. This is what gives such a bright, lively look to the patch of ground where these grow plentifully. How wonderfully pretty it is,” proceeded she; “look, what a tiny calyx it has!”
“Let us,” said Anne, “carry some of these to Uncle Ambrose.”
The two girls found their instructor working in the garden, but he was always ready to answer their questions.
Taking one of the flowers in his hand, he applied to it his magnifying glass, and then handed both to Lucilla. The four threadlike stamens which she had seen, were now greatly enlarged, and in the centre, she saw a slender white pistil, with its two-parted summit, which she remembered was called a stigma. The little corolla of blue, daintily lined with yellow on its inner side, was also expanded, and, on the whole, the appearance of the flower was highly elegant.
“Do you remember,” said Uncle Ambrose to Lucilla, that in examining the Lilac, some time ago, you found that the petals were all in one piece?”
“O yes, uncle, I do remember that well; what a heap of Lilacs Albert gathered for us that day. It was a warm day, and how cool the Lilacs looked, half hidden by the smooth, green leaves. And now I see that this also is all of one piece.”
“And,” said Anne, “it resembles the Lilac too, in its shape.”
“It does so, in that particular,” said Uncle Ambrose, “though its family relations are very different. They are both, however, good specimens of those flowers which are called monopetalous. To this one great division of plants they both belong.”
“By monopetalous, I suppose,” said Lucilla, “that you mean with the petals all in one.”
“Yes, I mean one-petaled. Though you may often find them like this, deeply cleft, yet they are joined either wholly, or in part. Here you see there are at the outer edge, four divisions. Sometimes where it is not cleft at all, yon can still see the seams, or little ridges, where the parts appear to have grown together. So interesting a division of plants is this, that I will propose that you sometime gather all the flowers of this sort, that you can find, and we will consider them. You will soon realize that this being a general destinction, comprehends multitudes of families. We will not, however, follow this further, at present. We will reserve it till another time.”
The girls both expressed their wish to gather specimens of the one-petaled flowers, before they should meet again.
“Meantime,” said Uncle Ambrose, “let me tell you, that this flower, so simple and so common, strewed as it appears, so widely in field and pasture, and especially along the banks of brooks and in moist places, indeed we find it continually, is one whose family relations are numerous and widely-extended.”
“I always love,” said Anne, “to hear about the family relations of the plants. It is so pleasant to know that the flowers have sisters and cousins like ourselves.”
“This regularly shaped corolla,” said Uncle Ambrose, with the stamens inserted upon it, agreeing in number with its divisions, as you can see for yourselves, each being four, and its calyx being similarly divided, indicate that it is of the same family as the Coffee plant. The flowers of this latter are strangely like these you have gathered to-day, in their construction, howbeit, while the one is so common, the other you would no doubt regard as a curiosity. Apart from its rareness in this part of the world, it is very lovely, with its sweet swelling blossoms of white, and its sunny looking leaves of light green. Let me tell you,” said he, warming with the remembrance of other scenes and distant days, “if you should once find yourselves within the beautiful embowering shade of a grove of Coffee trees, you would by no means be in a hurry to leave it.”
“I think,” said Anne, “that you have seen many plants that never grow here.”
“There is not only the Coffee, whose berry is so extensively used at the breakfast-table, but the Peruvian Bark, known all over the world as a medicine, which belongs to the same family.”
“But you have not yet told us,” said Anne, “the family name.”
“No, to be sure; it is called the Madder Family. One member of the family furnishes from its root, a valuable article used in coloring red, which is called by the family name, Madder. I have spoken to you of foreign plants, but need not have gone so far away. You will find in the blossoms of the Partridge berry, a good illustration of this family. Its little white flowers, often tinged with pink, are easily found in their season; their fragrance reveals their hiding-place oft-times. The bright red berries of this plant are conspicuous even in the winter.”
“Yes,” replied Anne, “I have gathered them sometimes when the ground was covered with snow.”
“Much more might be said,” said Uncle Ambrose, “concerning this family, but it is now time for us to separate. You have learned at least that your little friend Innocence, or as it is often called, Blue Houstonin, has many relatives.”M. A. C.
Variety.
The Rat and the Cobra.
Poisonous snakes often attack rats, hoping to get a good meal from them, but they generally find the rats ready to fight, and though the bite of the snake is sure to cause death, the bite of the rat generally leads to the same result. We suspect our readers wouldn’t like to live where such scenes as the following are of frequent occurrence:
I was just stooping down to select what I wanted, when I heard a tremendous flop behind me, and then a scuffle. Turning round I saw a cobra and a rat having a regular pitched battle. The cobra had been after the rat’s young ones, and the infuriated mother was thirsting for revenge. Though much alarmed for my own safety—for I had no means of escape without passing the cobra—I soon became intensely interested in the combat. At first the rat fought with the greatest caution, hopping from side to side with remarkable agility, and avoiding the poisoned fangs of the cobra; at last, however, the snake—which in the interval had received many severe bites—stung his adversary, and then the rat, apparently aware that its case was now hopeless, grew reckless, and closed in with its opponent. In less than two minutes it succeeded in killing the snake, and then crawling aside upon some straw, the victor died, apparently in the greatest agonies.
I had another illustration of the enmity existing between rats and snakes, many years afterwards, in Syria. I had sat up late reading a file of the Times newspapers; the servants had all been in bed for hours, and when I withdrew to my own, it wanted only a few hours of daylight. As I closed my bedroom door, I was startled by a tussling under the chest of drawers close by, and the next instant a rat darted out, followed by a huge snake, and these two set to work fighting right against the door. In my alarm, I upset the chair on which I had placed the candle, and found myself at once in utter darkness, locked in with a snake and a ferocious rat. To jump upon my bed was the work of an instant, and loudly did I bellow for assistance out of the window. I might as well have called to the winds to aid me. I had neither match nor weapon of defence, save a bolster, and the room was so dark that I could not distinguish my own hand, though held close before my nose. When the scuffle ceased, I expected every instant to feel the horrid clammy snake twisting itself round my legs, and in at unenviable anticipation, I remained three long hours, till broad daylight relieved me of my fears, and I found both combatants dead before the door.
A Russian Hot-House.
The long winters and short summers of Russia, do not permit the cultivation of tender flowers or fruits in the open air, but the Emperor has a series of magnificent hot-houses, which remind one of a tropical climate. Bayard Taylor describes them:
“The Botanical Garden in which I spent an afternoon, contains one of the finest collections of tropical plants in Europe. Here, in latitude of 60 degrees, you may walk through an avenue of palm trees, sixty feet high, under trees, ferns and bananas, by pounds of lotus Indian lily, and banks of splendid orchards, breathing an air heavy with the richest and warmest odors. The extent of these giant hot-houses cannot be less than a mile and a half. The short summer and the long dark winter of the north, requires a peculiar course of treatment for these children of the sun. During the three warm months they are forced as much as possible, so that the growth of six months is obtained in that time, and the productive qualities of the plant are kept up to their normal standard. After this result is obtained, it thrives as steadily as in a more favorable climate. The palms in particular, are noble specimens. One of them (a phœnix, I believe,) is now in blossom, which is an unheard of event in such a latitude.”
Heaven.
[The following beautiful lines, by the author of that exquisite poem “Over the River,” (Miss N. A. W. Priest), first appeared in the Springfield Republican:]
Beyond these chilling winds and gloomy skies,
Beyond death’s cloudy portal
There is a land where beauty never dies
And love becomes immortal:
A land whose light is never dimmed by shade,
Whose fields are ever vernal:
Where nothing beautiful can ever fade,
But blooms for aye, eternal.
We may not know how sweet its balmy air,
How bright and fair its flowers;
We may not hear the songs that echo there,
Through those enchanted bowers.
The city’s shining towers we may not see,
With our dim earthly vision:
For Death, the silent warden, keeps the key,
That opes those gates elysian.
But sometimes, when adown the Western sty
The fiery sunset lingers,
Its golden gates swing inward noiselessly,
Unlocked by unseen fingers.
And while they stand a moment half ajar,
Gleams from the inner glory
Stream brightly through the azure vault afar,
And half reveal the story.
O, land unknown! O land of love divine!
Father, all wise eternal,
Guide, guide these wondering way-worn feet of mine,
Into the pastures vernal.
The Force of Example.
A boy, who went to a school, by the advice and assistance of his teacher, had his face washed. When he came home, his neighbors looked at him with astonishment. They said, “that looks like Tom Rogers, and yet it can’t be, for he’s so clean.”" Presently his mother looked at him; finding his face so clean, she fancied her face dirty, and washed it. The father soon came home, and seeing his wife so clean, thought his face dirty, and soon followed their example. Father, mother and son all being clean, the mother began to think the room looked dirty, and down she went on her knees, and scrubbed that clean. There was a female lodger in the house, who, seeing such a change in her neighbors, thought her face and room very dirty, and she speedily betook to the cleansing operation likewise. And very soon the whole house was, as it were, transformed and made tidy and comfortable, simply by the cleaning of one ragged school-boy.
Can’t there be a reformation of this kind among some of our news-boys? Would they not set the example and thus carry cleanliness to the classic shades of Pigville? Water is plenty in the city, and might be applied. We should think from appearances that the example was rather followed of the old Scotch proverb, “the clartier, the cosier”—(the dirtier, the more comfortable.)
Paying Dearly for Bad Company.
Recently, a young man employed upon one of the railroads leading out the city, went into a gambling saloon on Brattle street, and engaged in a game of “props” with a miscellaneous company there assembled. He soon lost all his money, some $24, a portion of which was a twenty dollar bill. As that bill was about to be pocketed by the winner, the young man seized it, and ran from the place with a speed about equal to shat of his favorite engine, and was followed by the crowd of gamblers, who were joined in the street by half a hundred loafers and boys, and one or two policemen, all shouting—“Stop thief! Stop him!” The fugitive was likely to outstrip his pursuers, when a policeman headed him off, and stopped him in the Sudbury street Market. The person from whom the money had been snatched, soon came up, and the young man was so frightened that he at once gave him the bill. When the police learned the particulars of the case, their sympathies were with the prisoner, and they looked after the gambler to make him restore the money, but could not find him. The young man was discharged, no person appearing to make complaint against him. Perhaps this dear lesson will prove a benefit to him.
A Sad Case of Drowning.
On Sunday week, a young girl, daughter of Hugh King, of Piedmont, Va., was crossing a temporary foot-way across the mouth of George’s Creek, just as it connects with the North Branch, she fell off the log and was drowned. The Piedmont Independent says:
She was in company with several ladies and gentlemen, but the water was high and the currents of the two streams so swift that rescue seemed impossible. The whole day was spent in laborious and fruitless search after the body, but it could not be found. She was an amiable and beautiful girl, about fifteen years of age. Her mother had gone to the city of Baltimore on a visit, and had left her daughter in charge of the household affairs. She was on her way to church, when the melancholy and distressing accident occurred.
Gifts Returned to the Giver.
Gifts are often valued, not according to their real worth, or the intention of the giver, but according to the scarcity of the article. A queer story is told of a present once made to an Emperor of Germany:
The Emperor Charles V., returning from his expedition against Tunis, traveled by land from Calabria to Naples. As he was to pass through La Cava, the town council met to decide upon a gift for his majesty. Some proposed pine apples, but the majority were in favor of a certain kind of fig, which, having been covered with mats through the winter, were then (March) delicious eating. The Emperor, who was a terrific gormandiser, was much gratified with the present, and inquired with a great deal of interest, if it were difficult to preserve the figs thus, and if they were abundant.
“Oh!” said the sapient mayor, “we have such a quantity that we give them to our hogs.”
“To your hogs!” repeated the Emperor, “then take your figs back again.”
With the word he threw a ripe one in the face of the councilman, and the courtiers, following his example, pelted the deputies until they were soiled and bruised with the fruit. One of them, however, supposed that this singular proceeding was a part of the ordinary ceremonial at receptions, and observed on his way home:
“How lucky it was that we carried our point in favor of figs, for had we offered pine apples, we should, doubtless, have had our brains knocked out!”
Accident Prevented.
On Monday afternoon, during the terrible tornado which visited so large a section of country, a number of trees were blown across the rack of the Parkersburg branch of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. About the time the night train was due, an old farmer near the line of the road discovered a large tree directly across the track at a point where an accident must prove very destructive. He immediately collected wood and started bonfires in the road upon both sides of the fallen tree, and lighting torch, he proceeded in the direction of the approaching train. His two sturdy sons were first called, however, who set to work with their axes, and by the time the train arrived at the point of danger, the track had been nearly cleared, and with but few minutes delay, was enabled to proceed on its way. Such acts of disinterested good-will towards a railroad company and a load of human freight is worthy of record. We regret that we have not the names of the old farmer and his sons, to whose prompt labors so much is due from the company and the passengers.—Cincinnati Enquirer, May 26.
Tale of an Elephant.
Tell, my grandchildren, said the late Right Rev. Daniel Wilson, writing home from India, that an elephant here had a disease in his eyes. For three days he had been completely blind. His owner, an engineer officer, asked my dear Dr. Webb, if he could do anything to relieve the poor animal. The doctor said he would try nitrate of silver, which was a remedy commonly applied to similar diseases in the human eye. The huge animal was ordered to lie down, and at first, on the application of the remedy, raised a most extraordinary roar at the acute pain which it occasioned. The effect, however, was wonderful. The eye was, in a manner, restored, and the animal could partially see. The next day, when he was brought, and heard the doctor’s voice, he laid down of himself, placed his enormous head on one side, curled up his trunk, drew in his breath just like a man about to endure an operation, gave a sigh of relief when it was over, and then, by trunk and gestures, evidently wished to express his gratitude. What sagacity! What a lesson to us of patience!
False Shame.
Labor is always honorable, and in these days of effeminacy and self-indulgence, those families who dispense with the service of foreign help, are worthy of double honor. But girls are often very foolish, and are ashamed of what they have reason to be proud of. We hope none of our readers would be quite as foolish as the young lady in Oswego:
The Oswego Times tells a good story of a fashionable lady of that village, whose parents are not possessed of wealth in proportion to her pretentions, who excused herself to a visitor for doing house-work, thus:
“Mother and I do our own housework, because it is so exceedingly romantic.”
Blooming in the Grave.
A metallic coffin, containing the body of a young lady who had been buried more than four years, was lately opened in Memphis, Tennessee. The body was in an excellent state of preservation; the hair, particularly, was very life-like, and, what was more astonishing, a full-blown camellia japonica, which some affectionate hand had twined in the tresses of the girl, was remarkably fresh-looking, the leaves retaining their soft greenish hue to perfection.
It has been established by the courts, that the first stroke of the clock is the record of the hour. The mere labor of the remaining enumeration runs into the succeeding hour. The point was first brought up in Blackstone’s time in a great will case, where two persons had apparently died at the same time.
Have you ever seen a drunken man trying to make believe that he is sober? How ridiculous the spectacle! And yet more ridiculous still, is the attempt of an ignorant ill-bred person to appear very wise and refined in society.
Life is made up, not of great sacrifices and duties, but of little things, in which smiles and kindnesses, and small obligations, given habitually, are what win and preserve the heart, and secure comfort.
Remember what a world of gossip would be prevented if it was only remembered that a person who tells you of the faults of others, intends to tell others of your faults.
That plenty should produce either covetousness or prodigality is a perversion of providence: and yet the generality of men are the worse for their riches.
He who follows his recreation instead of his business, will, in a little time, have no business to follow.
Of all the earthly music, that which reaches the farthest into heaven is the beating of a loving heart.
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Wholesale Agents.
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23—1y
Peruvian Syrup,
or Protected Solution of
Protoxide of Iron Combined.
This well known Remedy has been used very extensively and with great success for the cure of
Dyspepsia,
or Impaired and Imperfect Digestion.
and the Consequent
Deterioration of the Blood.
and the the following
Forms of Disease,
Most of which originate in
Dyspepsia.
Liver Complaint, Dropsy, Neuralgia and Nervous Affections. Loss of Appetite, Headache, Langour and Depression of Spirits, Carbuncles and Boils, Pales, Scurvy, Affections of the Skin, Consumptive Tendencies, Bronchitis, Diseases Peculiar as Females, and all Complaints Accompanied by General Debility, and requiring a Tonic and Alternative Medicine.
Testimonials from Clergymen,
On the efficacy of the Peruvian Syrup and the benefits the have derived from its use:
Rev. JOHN PIERPONT, Medford, Mass.—Its efficacy in Salt Rheum and other Cutaneous Diseases
Rev. WARREN BURTON. Boston, Mass.—Its efficacy in Headaches, Loss of Appetite, Oppressive, Neuralgia, Nervous Affections, and General Debility: Its Value to Clergymen.
Rev. SYLVANUS COBB, Boston, Mass.—its Use and Efficacy in family: Restoration of strength after Typhoid Fever.
Rev. THOMAS WHITTEMORE, Boston, Mass.—Its Use and Value in Paralysis, Dyspepsia, and Dropsy of the Chest; and adds: “It gives me new vigor, buoyancy of spirits, Elasticity of Muscle.”
Rev. EPHRIAM NUTE, Jr., Lawrence, Kansas Territory.—Its Efficacy in Dyspepsia, Debility, prostration, and Adaptation to Western Climatic Diseases.
Rev. HENRY UPHAM, Boston, Mass.—Its Efficacy in Dyspepsia and Afflictions of the Liver.
Rev. S. H. RIDDEL, Boston, Mass.—Its Value in cases of Bronchitis, Indigestion, Turgid Liver, Neuralgia, and Nervous Debility.
Rev. P. C. BRADLEY, Greenfield, Mass.—Its genuineness as a Medical Agent, and Efficacy in Dyspepsia, Neuralgia, and Plurisy.
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N. L. Clark & Co., Proprietors,
Codman Buildings,
Sold by Druggists generally throughout the United States.
Bound Volumes.
For sale, at a low price, at this Office, Bound Volumes of the Companion from 1848.36—tf
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