W WHAT changes have been manifested—how unceasingly and with what deftness Nature has silently wrought in tapestry and embroidery, sculpture and painting, till beauty is all around us, in the green carpet of earth, brightened with flowers and leafage of every hue! No wonder the birds sing praises to Him who gave them life with its fullness of blessings. Sad to think that man, high over all, and under the greatest obligation, too often is silent in thanksgiving for the gifts of a Father's love.

No month to me has such charms as June, when nature's robes are so fresh and clean, and the balmy air is redolent with fragrance. How delightful to be abroad with the early worm and early bird, working in the garden, while the songsters give free concerts, and the hum of the honey bird, and buzz of the bee, set forth a good example of cheerful industry!

The house plants have become established in the open border, and are so glad to get away from artificial heat and confined atmosphere into the broad sunlight of heaven, and breathe in full draughts of pure air and sweet dew, that they put on their best attire, and most attractive ornaments. Before the roses bloom, the bed of geraniums looks bright with flowers, each ambitious to excel his or her neighbor, either in beauty of color, or form, or duration of bloom, thus leaving me in perplexity as to choice. When Pliny bloomed everybody admired who saw his beauty; then Romeo with quite another style looked charming, but when Naomi unfolded her large trusses of double pips, of a rare, peculiar shade, nobody ever saw a geranium quite so lovely, and then its duration of bloom—full six weeks! Jennie Dolfus, however, became a dangerous rival—a deeper, richer shade, and not a pip would she allow to fade so long as Naomi looked so pert. Some said, "I like Naomi the best;" others said, "I think Jennie is the prettiest." But Beauty, close by, hearing the praises lavished on her sisters, and perchance trusting in her good name, came forth one day in dress of white with deep pink ornamentation. Never had such unique beauty as this ever been seen in Geranium before, and, "Isn't it lovely!" "Just splendid!" "What a beauty!" were uttered with exclamation points, till she blushed with becoming modesty—the flush spread and deepened until her face was completely suffused with the delicate tint, making her yet more attractive. Wellington donned his crimson suit, and De Gasx an orange yellow; Pauline Lucca, prima donna though she be, appeared in dress of pure white, and Richard Dean in scarlet with a white star that was very becoming. New Life thought to draw special attention by odd freaks, and came out in a parti-colored dress of the most singular combinations; part of it was scarlet dotted with white—part of it half scarlet, half salmon, part of it widely striped, and part white with just a flush of pink! I must call him the clown of the family!

I have only named a few of the rare Geraniums that adorn one of the beds of my garden. For beauty, free flowering, and duration of bloom they cannot be surpassed.

Interspersed with them are ornamental leaved Geraniums, Crystal Palace Gem, an improvement on Cloth of Gold; Marshal McMahon, the best of all the bronzes; Cherub, deep green, white and orange, flowers carmine; Glen Eyre Beauty, Dr. Livingstone, a new, sweet-scented, fine cut-leaved Geranium; Happy Thought, one of the most attractive, with its dark green leaves and creamy white center. Here and there are commingled Anchryanthus of divers hues, and Coleosus, giving a fine effect to the whole. This is now the most attractive bed of all, but when the Lilies are in bloom, and the dear little Tea Roses, the bed parallel with it will be the sweetest, if not so brilliant.

This year I have a tropical bed of oblong form. A Castor Bean rises majestically in the center, two beautiful Cannas each side, while a DracÆna, a splendid Croton, two fancy Caladiums, and a few other choice plants fill the space, the whole bordered with Coxcombs. In a few weeks this bed will look gorgeous, and those filled with annuals will have changed from their present inattractiveness to delightful bloom. August is really the month of fullness of blossom, and of restful enjoyment of beauty and fragrance. The weary days of preparation, of bedding out and of weeding, are over, and one may now give themselves up to the enjoyment of the fruit of their labor, till the chill nights of autumn bring a renewal of the toil.

"Does the brief period of restful enjoyment repay for the many weary days antecedent and subsequent?"

Yes, richly, fully, for there is pleasure with the toil, and to me health-giving influences that energize the physical system for indoor work, and stimulate the brain for literary pursuits. To me my garden is a God-send, fraught with blessings.

"Gardening is a pleasant pastime." I am prepared to adopt that sentiment to-day, if I did demur somewhat last month. It is a delightful pastime, in the early morning, to spend an hour among the flowers, trowel in hand, rooting out the weeds, loosening the soil around your plants, and tying up here and there the tall and fragile, while the birds are singing in the trees around you their morning song of gladness. How the dew-laden grass and shrubs impart sweetness to the air, and your lungs inhaling its purity, are expanded and invigorated, your whole system feels the better for the tonic, and prepares for breakfast, and the work that shall follow.

It is a pleasant pastime, when wearied with toil you go forth for a time among your flowers and search for the buds, or examine the newly-opened flower. How it rests you!

It is a pleasant pastime, when the labors of the day are over, and the sun is throwing long shadows from the west, you take watering-pot in hand, and shower the refreshing spray upon your plants, cleansing them from the dust, and cooling them after the heat. How they thrive, and bud and bloom!