At the same time with this royalty of the woods, the queen of the water ascends her throne, for a reign as undisputed and far more prolonged.  The extremes of the Water-Lily in this vicinity, so far as I have known, are the eighteenth of June and the thirteenth of October,—­a longer range than belongs to any other conspicuous wild-flower, unless we except the Dandelion and Houstonia.  It is not only the most fascinating of all flowers to gather, but more available for decorative purposes than almost any other, if it can only be kept fresh.  The best method for this purpose, I believe, is to cut the stalk very short before placing in the vase; then, at night, the lily will close and the stalk curl upward;—­refresh them by changing the water, and in the morning the stalk will be straight and the flower open.

From this time forth Summer has it all her own way.  After the first of July the yellow flowers begin to watch the yellow fireflies; Hawkweeds, Loosestrifes, Primroses bloom, and the bushy Wild Indigo.  The variety of hues increases; delicate purple Orchises bloom in their chosen haunts, and Wild Roses blush over hill and dale.  On peat meadows the Adder’s-Tongue Arethusa (now called Pogonia) flowers profusely, with a faint, delicious perfume,—­and its more elegant cousin, the Calopogon, by its side.  In this vicinity we miss the blue Harebell, the identical harebell of Ellen Douglas, which I remember waving its exquisite flowers along the banks of the Merrimack, and again at Brattleboro’, below the cascade in the village, where it has climbed the precipitous sides of old buildings, and nods inaccessibly from their crevices, in that picturesque spot, looking down on the hurrying river.  But with this exception, there is nothing wanting here of the flowers of early summer.

The more closely one studies Nature, the finer her adaptations grow.  For instance, the change of seasons is analogous to a change of zones, and summer assimilates our vegetation to that of the tropics.

In those lands, Humboldt has remarked, one misses the beauty of wild-flowers in the grass, because the luxuriance of vegetation develops everything into shrubs.  The form and color are beautiful, “but, being too high above the soil, they disturb that harmonious proportion which characterizes the plants of our European meadows.  Nature has, in every zone, stamped on the landscape the peculiar type of beauty proper to the locality.”  But every midsummer reveals the same tendency.  In early spring, when all is bare, and small objects are easily made prominent, the wild-flowers are generally delicate.  Later, when all verdure is profusely expanded, these miniature strokes would be lost, and Nature then practises landscape-gardening in large, lights up the copses with great masses of White Alder, makes the roadsides gay with Aster and Golden-Rod, and tops the tall coarse Meadow-Grass with nodding Lilies and tufted Spiraea.  One instinctively follows these plain hints, and gathers bouquets sparingly in spring and exuberantly in summer.