JULY. "The spirit of beauty unfurls her light, Still wheeling her flight through the gladsome air, "ON field, and hill, and river," in wood and glen, on moss and moorland, rests the "Spirit of Beauty," for the flowers of July are blossoming in their abundance. Nor must we forget the sea-shore, for there too may we find flowers. We begin with the well-known thrift, or sea-pink (Armeria maritima), so commonly used in some places instead of box as an edging for flower-plots. Here it meets us on the sandy downs, but its pink heads of flowers also ornament the rock crevices quite down to the shore. The allied family of sea lavenders, or Statice, is less widely distributed than the former, but its members are found in some special localities. In some of these rock crevices, mayhap, too, especially on southern shores, we meet with one of our umbelliferous friends, better known perhaps to many of our readers as it appears in the pickle bottle; we allude to the rock samphire (Crithmum maritimum). Its aromatic, pale green, fleshy, cylindrical leaves, and umbelliferous character, sufficiently mark it. Another sea-shore umbelbearer, like the last, better known on the table than in its natural condition, is the Apium graveolens, or wild celery. It is found chiefly in places rendered marshy by the salt water. We must not, however, lead our flower-gatherers to expect an extempore salad with their midday lunch. In its wild condition the celery is very strong-tasted, and requires the ameliorating influences of cultivation to render it fit for food. You will scarce perhaps give the next plant, with its compact heads of beautiful blue flowers, and its prickly leaves, credit as an umbelliferous member; but it is one, nevertheless, and a pretty one too, growing quite down amid the sand. It is the sea holly, or Eryngium. Do not, however, take the matter for granted; but, if you have the good fortune to find the plant, examine for yourself. Observe, further, a characteristic of the stiff leaves: they are covered with a sort of bluish or sea-green bloom, being what is called glaucous. This character is very common in plants growing near the sea, though not confined to them. You will find it, too, very strongly marked in the case of the yellow-horned poppy (Glaucium luteum), a far from unhandsome ornament to our sea-shores, which it makes gay where it grows, with its very handsome yellow blossoms. It cannot escape either notice or recognition, especially when its curved pods, more than half a foot long, are developed. Another sea-shore plant, which exhibits this glaucous character, is the Cakile maritima, or sea-rocket, one of the cruciferous order with pretty pinkish white flowers, and almost bushy in its growth. Its frequent companion, with tufts of smooth kidney-shaped leaves, white flowers, and globe-shaped seed-vessels, is also cruciferous, and possesses the dietetic and partly medicinal properties of the order, whence it is named the scurvy grass, or Cochlearia maritima, being a near relative of our well-known horse-radish. The scurvy grass does not present the glaucous character, but our next friend derives its name from it. The Glaux maritima is common on almost every shore, and is conspicuous for its rose-coloured flowers, resting in the axils which its ovate, fleshy, opposite leaves form with its branched and procumbent stem. It is pretty while growing; but, like most fleshy-leaved plants, loses much of its beauty in the drying. Salt marshes never look very inviting for exploration, and are almost necessarily connected with wet feet; but we must search the first we come to, for the much-branched but leafless glasswort (Salicornia herbacea), with its curious jointed, cylindrical stems, which look candied like a sweetmeat with saline incrustations. A somewhat similar plant, the saltwort (Salsoli kali), we may find growing on most sandy shores. These, and seashore plants generally, are remarkable for containing a considerable amount of soda in their composition. Along with the above, some of the various species of Atriplex or sea-purslane are not uncommon, many of them noticeable for the sort of mealy bloom which covers their leaves, and gives them a hoary, frosted look. A species of plantain, too (Plantago maritima), delights in the grassy margins of the coast, its leaves linear and grass-like. Not unfrequently is it accompanied by a relative, the buck'shorn plantain, or Plantago coronopus, which derives its name from the peculiar cutting of the leaves. Amid our sea-shore plants, however, the grasses are neither the least interesting, nor perhaps the least useful. One, especially, the sea-reed, or Ammophila arundinacea, deserves our attention for the eminent service it performs on low sea-margins, such as those of Holland, where its roots matting together in the sand, form a powerful obstacle to the inroads of the ocean. We shall surely find its large, thickly-set heads, without going far, and probably in its company, its assistant in the work of sea-resistancethe Triticum junceum, or sea-wheat grass, with its spikelets thinly set on its zigzag stems. Both grasses have the glaucous hue already alluded to. Other sea-side grasses might we point out, but space would fail, and we rather pass on to a review of the general characters of this numerous and important family, whose members this month are in their full perfection. Vain would it be to strive after more than a general sketch of the grasses; their distinctive marks are, for the most part, so minute, that it would not be possible here to give a reader any clue to the names of those he gathers; nevertheless, such of our readers as desire really to have a good and useful knowledge of plants, ought to gather the grasses, and to preserve them, which, by the way, is a very easy matter. They make pretty specimens, and moreover admit of being examined at any time, even when dry; so that if our inexperienced friends are for the present too much occupied with the more attractive, fleeting, and easily-comprehended flowers, usually so called, they may well leave the grasses for the winter fireside. But though we thus, in a measure, exclude the grasses from the ranks of gay flowers, they are nevertheless perfect flowers with calyx and corolla pieces-or at least with parts answering thereto-stamens and pistils. We need not, this month, go far for a specimen in full bloom; |