A flower with a history, with a name long honoured, full of that blue blood which a genealogical tree is supposed to imply, the Carnation needs no apology or recommendation. It was among the most admired of the flowers used by the Greeks and Romans in the making of chaplets, and hence derived its name of Coronation by which Spenser and other early writers knew it. Its generic name, Dianthus, or Flower of Jupiter, equally points to the high honour in which it was held by the Latins. It was formerly much used both medicinally, "wonderfully above measure comforting the heart," and for the flavouring of liquors—whence it obtained its name of Sops-in-wine:—

The beautiful form of the flowers of the various species of Dianthus—Pinks, Carnations and Sweet Williams—partly accounts for its distinguished position, but the characteristic fragrance has been even more contributory to its reputation. The old name of July-flower, gilli-flower, or gylofre was but a corruption of caryophyllus—the nut-leaved clove tree—which name it earned by its delicious spicy scent. Much more regard was paid to fragrance by the old gardeners and flower-lovers than seems to be the case to-day, and it is very much to be regretted that many of the most beautiful of the newer varieties of carnation are nearly scentless, or as nearly scentless as any member of the family can be. In ordinary good garden soil most of the carnations can be easily grown. It is a good plan thoroughly to prepare and enrich the ground in August, and to raise on it a crop of mustard, digging in the latter a month later, at which time the Carnations should be planted. Two varieties which I would recommend to a beginner are the pure white clove variety, Gloire de Nancy, and the old Crimson Clove. It should be borne in mind that carnations do not thrive in the shade, and that they will not tolerate the presence of rank manure. They are, however, among the plants which can be grown in the muggy atmosphere of cities.

Blue is the only colour which is not to be found among the carnations, and indeed it is a colour not very common in the garden flora. Gentians, Forget-me-nots, Veronicas, Borage, and a few others are the only blue flowers commonly to be seen, but among these few others there is one of the stateliest and most beautiful of the ornaments of the July garden. The Larkspur, Lark's-heels, or Delphinium (Dolphin flower) is one of those few old fashioned flowers which have been really improved in every way by the selection and hybridising of the florist. The varieties raised during the past few years by Messrs Kelway of Langport and others are more robust and more beautiful than the original species or than any of the old garden kinds. The sepals are of every shade of blue and their beauty is enhanced by the white petals within. The foliage too is very beautiful, and, the plant being of the same width throughout—cylindrical rather than conical in form—the leaves, with the exception of those near the ground, are finely divided in order to allow light to reach the leaves below. The Delphinium is elaborately equipped with machinery for securing effective cross fertilisation by its bumble-bee visitors. The stamens ripen before the pistil, and are so placed that the bee cannot get at the honey without covering its head with pollen, which it then bears to another flower. The stigma is not in evidence until the stamens have died, when it occupies a similarly obstructive position in the road of the pollen-covered bee. Martagon Lilies, Alstroemerias, Montbretias, English Irises, Hollyhocks, Lupins, Perennial Peas, Coreopsis, Scabious, Galega officinalis alba and all the species of Campanula are among the July bloomers. Pretty as they are, the old blue and white Canterbury Bells are by no means so graceful as many of the other Bellflowers. C. pyramidalis, C. persicifolia and C. glomerata are among the best of the tall kinds, whilst from the dwarfer species may be selected C. isophylla, C. carpatica, C. alpina, and C. turbinata.

In July also the handsome plants of the Thistle family are at their period of greatest beauty. Echinops ruthenicus, E. ritro, Eryngium amethystinum, E. Oliverianum, E. giganteum and E. glaciale are among the finest, but those habitants of the kitchen garden—the Cardoon and the Globe Artichoke—require much excellency in their peers.

July is the month of climax for the gardener who grows only annual flowers raised afresh each year from seed. A very fine show he may have, too, during his somewhat brief season. To the grower of herbaceous plants who aims, and wisely aims, at having flowers all the year through, July is but one month out of twelve. Spring means for him not a season for sowing, so much as a very flowery season, full of Crocuses and Anemones, of Primroses and of Hepaticas; for him even winter itself is not flowerless, since he has his Hellebores and winter Aconites and fragrant Coltsfoot. But with annual flowers the case is different. It is true that, by sowing in July or August, one may obtain such beautiful flowers as those of Erysimum, Nemophila and Saponaria calabrica in the spring, but the great bulk of annual flowering plants are summer bloomers. Many of them are among the most beautiful, and certainly among the most showy, of our garden occupants. Sweet-peas, Convolvuli and Nasturtiums are as beautiful as any perennial climber; and one has but to name Cornflowers, Mignonette, Coreopsis, Escholtzias and the glorious and gaudy army of Poppies in order to show what a garden of annuals may offer in the months of summer.

I know of no floral sight more brilliant than that of a garden full of poppies in full bloom. Each flower is bright almost to gaudiness, yet with petals so thin and flimsy that no insect can rest on them, and each cup is accordingly furnished with a substantial alighting stage in its centre. Shirley poppies in every shade of red; Iceland poppies in every shade of white, yellow and orange; scarlet Tulip poppies; white Alpine poppies—one knows not which to prefer. The poets have generally used the poppy only for its assistance in pointing a moral. Thus, for example, Burns—

"Faire without and foule within" has generally summed up its popular reputation, though Ruskin has spoken with appreciation of its beauty and delicacy.

All the hardy annuals are easy to grow, their requirements being ample sunshine, deeply dug soil, finely broken up and moderately, though not excessively, enriched, and ample space for individual development. Where failure occurs, it may usually be traced to omission of one or other of these conditions—most commonly, perhaps, of the one last named. There are few annuals which will thrive in the shade, though Forget-me-nots, Venus's Looking-glass and Nemophilas will succeed in damp situations if the shade be not too intense.

Personally, although I should not like to grow annuals alone, I should regretfully miss my hedge of Sweet-peas, my Poppies, and the soothingly fragrant, though insignificant, flowers of my Mignonette.

One other annual flower is the prettily and appropriately named Love-in-a-Mist, with the daintiest of blue flowers enveloped as in a green cloud. If our poets were wont to look at flowers for themselves instead of copying one another's natural history, they might be referred to this delightful plant. Mr Swinburne, I think alone among poets, has used it as subject for one of his roundels. Fortunately, the neglect of poets has little influence on the beauty of flowers.