INTRODUCTORY

[1]Mr. Carl Purdy.

Situated on the western verge of the continent, so far removed from the other parts of our country, not only by great distance, but by those mighty natural barriers that traverse the continent from north to south, California is eminently individual in her natural features. Stretching through nine and one half degrees of latitude, with a sea-coast of seven hundred miles, and several ranges of fine and lofty mountains, there is probably not another State in the Union that has so wonderful a diversity of climate and vegetation. Her shores, bathed by the warm Japan Current, or Ku-ro Si-wa, which is deflected southward from Alaska, are many degrees warmer than their latitude alone would warrant.

Her general topography is simple and readily understood. The Sierra Nevada, or "snowy range," upon the eastern boundary, with its granite summits and its shoulders clothed with successive belts of majestic coniferous forests, with an occasional snow-peak towering above the range, forms the eastern wall of the great Central Valley, which is inclosed upon the west by the Coast Range, less in height than the Sierra, but equally beautiful, less forbidding, more companionable. The great Central Valley, four hundred and fifty miles long, is drained by two rivers, which meet in its center and break through the Coast Range, delivering their waters to the ocean through the Golden Gate. The Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers receive many important tributaries from the east, fed by the melting snows of the Sierras, and flow through one of the most fertile regions of the world.

The Sierras may be divided into five different belts, of varying altitudes along the length of the range, beginning with the foothill region, which may be termed the chaparral region. This is succeeded by the yellow-pine belt, above which is the sugar-pine, or upper forest, belt, which is in turn succeeded by the sub-alpine, while the alpine dominates all.

The Coast Range is channeled on both sides by many beautiful wooded cañons, affording homes for some of our loveliest flowers. Mr. Purdy writes of it: This "is not a continuous range, but a broken mass of parallel ridges from forty to seventy miles wide, with many other chains transverse to the general trend of the range, and inclosing numerous valleys, large and small, of widely different altitudes. In the Coast Range there is no warm belt, but isolated warm spots. Climate here can only be ascertained by experience. The geological formation of the ranges and the character of soils constantly vary, and often widely at short intervals. Hence the flora of this region is particularly interesting. It is hardly probable there is a more captivating field for the botanist in the world."

In the north and the south the two great ranges meet in some of the noblest snow-peaks on the continent. Below their southern junction, to the eastward, lies an arid desert region, and above their northern junction extends a dry and elevated plateau to the northeast. Thus there arises a great diversity of natural condition. As all living organisms are greatly influenced by their environment, the flora naturally distributes itself along the lines of climatic variation. Thus we have alpine species on the snowy heights of the Sierras, and sub-alpine forms luxuriating in the meadows fed from their snows; inland species in the Central Valley, and following some distance up its eastern and western walls; the leathery and hardy forms of the wind-swept coast; the curious prickly races of arid regions; delicate lovers of the cool and shaded brook; dwellers in marshes and on lake borders; denizens of dry, rocky hill-slopes, exposed to the glare of the sun; and inhabiters of shaded woods. It may be said that the most characteristicallyWestern plants of our flora are to be found in the Central Valley, in the lower belts of the Sierras, and in the valleys of the Coast Range, many of which extend beyond our borders, both northward and southward. Many of our alpine species are common to the East, and our maritime flora is of necessity somewhat cosmopolitan, containing many introduced species from various parts of the world.

The climate of California is divided into two seasons—the wet and the dry,—the former extending from October to May, the latter occupying the remaining months of the year. And this climatic division coincides almost exactly with the area of the State. Of course, these dates are not absolute, as showers may occur beyond their limits.

It will be readily seen that the rainy season, or the winter, so-called, is the growing time of our year—the time when the earth brings forth every plant in his kind. On the other hand, the summer is the time of rest. Most of the plant-life having germinated after the first moisture of the fall, grows luxuriantly during the showery months of winter, blossoms lavishly in the balmy sunshine of early springtime, produces seed in abundance by early summer, and is then ready for its annual rest. Instead of shrouding the earth in snow during our period of plant-rest, as she does in more rigorous climes, Nature gently spreads over hill and valley a soft mantle of brown.

When the first shrill notes of the cicada are heard in late spring, we awake to a sudden realization that summer is at hand, and, looking about us, we see that the flowers have nearly all vanished; hill and valley no longer glow with great masses of color; only a few straggling species of the early summer remain; but they too are soon gone, and soft browns and straw-colors prevail everywhere. It is then that the deep, rich greens of our symmetrically rounded Live-Oaks, so characteristic of this region, show in fine contrast against this delicate background, forming a picture that every Californian dearly loves; the Madroño and the Laurel spread their canopies ofgrateful shade; while the Redwood affords cool retreats from the summer sun. Then our salt marshes, as though realizing the need of refreshing verdure, put on their most vivid greens; and our chaparral-covered hill-slopes make walls of bronze and olive.

Perhaps no coniferous forests in the world are so beautiful or so attractive as the Redwood forests of our Coast Ranges; and they play so important a part in the distribution of our plants, it will not be out of place to devote a little space to them here.

The main Redwood belt is of limited range, extending along the Coast from Monterey County to Humboldt County, and nowhere exceeding twenty miles in breadth. Straggling trees may be found beyond these limits, but nowhere a forest growth or trees of great size. In its densest portion, the stately and colossal trees are too close together to permit of a wagon passing between them.

Mr. Purdy writes: "The Redwood is not only a lover of moisture, but to an extent hardly to be believed, unless seen, a condenser and conserver of moisture. Their tops reach high into the sea of vapor, and a constant precipitation from them, like rain, takes place. The water stands in puddles in the roads under them. This causes the densest of undergrowth; hazels, huckleberries, various Ceanothi, ferns of large size and in greatest profusion, large bushes of rhododendron, and numerous other plants make the forest floor a perfect tangle in moister portions."

Many charming plants find their homes amid the cool shade of these noble trees. Trillium, and scoliopus, and dog's-tooth violets vie with clintonias and vancouverias in elegance and grace, while little creeping violets, and the lovely redwood-sorrel, and the salal make charming tapestries over the forest floor about these dim cathedral columns.

On the other hand, the open forest belts of the Sierras, which are of far greater extent, present another and quite different flora from that of the Coast Range and the Redwoodbelt. There may be found many interesting plants of the Heath family—cassiope, bryanthus, chimaphila, ledum, various pyrolas, and the snow-plant; there the aconite, false hellebore, eriogonums and gentians, and new and beautiful pentstemons and Mimuli and lilies deck the meadows and stream-banks.

After the season of blossoming is over in the lowlands, we may pass on up into the mountains and live again through a vernal springtime of flowers.

Perhaps in no country in the world does the arrival of the spring flowers "so transform the face of Nature as in California." The march of civilization has brought changes in its wake; the virgin soil has been broken and subdued into grainfields and vineyards; still enough of the lavish blossoming is left us to appreciate Mr. Muir's description of the face of the country as it appeared years ago. He says: "When California was wild, it was one sweet bee-garden throughout its entire length, north and south, and all the way across from the snowy Sierra to the ocean.... The Great Central Plain ... during the months of March, April, and May was one smooth, continuous bed of honey-bloom, so marvelously rich that in walking from one end of it to the other, a distance of four hundred miles, your foot would press about a hundred flowers at every step. Mints, gilias, nemophilas, castilleias, and innumerable Compositæ were so crowded together, that had ninety-nine per cent of them been taken away, the plain would still have seemed to any but Californians extravagantly flowery. The radiant, honeyful corollas, touching and overlapping and rising above one another, glowed in the living light like a sunset sky—one sheet of purple and gold.... Sauntering in any direction, hundreds of these happy sun-plants brushed against my feet at every step and closed over them as if I were wading in liquid gold. The air was sweet with fragrance, the larks sang their blessed songs, rising on the wing as I advanced, then sinking out of sight in the polleny sod; while myriads of wild bees stirred the lower air with their monotonous hum—monotonous, yet forever fresh and sweet as everyday sunshine."

O Land of the West! I knowHow the field-flowers bud and blow,And the grass springs and the grainTo the first soft touch and summons of the rain!O, the music of the rain!O, the music of the streams!Ina D. Coolbrith.

Ina D. Coolbrith

Toward the end of our long cloudless summer, after most other flowers have stolen away, Mother Nature marshals her great order of Compositæ for a last rally; and they come as welcome visitants to fill the places of our vanished summer friends.

Asters andgoldenrods, grindelias, lessingias, and the numerous tarweeds, with their cheerful blossoms, relieve the sober browns of sun-dried hill-slopes and meadows, or fringe with color our roadsides and salt marshes.

But even these late-comers weary after a time, and one by one disappear, till there comes a season when, without flowers, Nature seems to be humbled in sackcloth and ashes. The dust lies thick upon roadside trees, a haze hangs like a veil in the air, and the sun beats down with fierce, continued glare.

As this wears on day after day, a certain vague expectancy creeps gradually over the face of things—a rapt, mysterious aspect, foreboding change. One day there is a telltale clarity in the atmosphere. Later, the sky darkens by degrees, and a dull, leaden hue spreads over the vault of heaven. Naturemourns, and would weep. Her heart is full to bursting; still the tears come not. The winds spring up and blow freshly over the parched land. A few hard-wrung drops begin to fall, and at length there closes down a thoroughgoing shower. The flood-gates are opened at last; the long tension is over, and we breathe freely once more.

During this first autumn rain, those of us who are so fortunate as to live in the country are conscious of a strange odor pervading all the air. It is as though Dame Nature were brewing a vast cup of herb tea, mixing in the fragrant infusion all the plants dried and stored so carefully during the summer.

When the clouds vanish after this baptismal shower, everything is charmingly fresh and pure, and we have some of the rarest of days. Then the little seeds, harbored through the long summer in Earth's bosom, burst their coats and push up their tender leaves, till on hillside and valley-floor appears a delicate mist of green, which gradually confirms itself into a soft, rich carpet—and all the world is in verdure clad. Then we begin to look eagerly for our first flowers.

I think I would not beA stately tree,Broad-boughed, with haughty crest that seeks the sky.Too many sorrows lieIn years, too much of bitter for the sweet:Frost-bite, and blast, and heat,Blind drought, cold rains, must all grow wearisome,Ere one could put awayTheir leafy garb for aye,And let death come.Rather this wayside flower!To live its happy hourOf balmy air, of sunshine, and of dew.A sinless face held upward to the blue;A bird-song sung to it,A butterfly to flitOn dazzling wings above it, hither, thither,--A sweet surprise of life,--and then exhaleA little fragrant soul on the soft gale,To float--ah! whither?--INA D. COOLBRITH.

Rather this wayside flower!To live its happy hourOf balmy air, of sunshine, and of dew.A sinless face held upward to the blue;A bird-song sung to it,A butterfly to flitOn dazzling wings above it, hither, thither,--A sweet surprise of life,--and then exhaleA little fragrant soul on the soft gale,To float--ah! whither?--INA D. COOLBRITH.

--INA D. COOLBRITH.

Described in the Yellow Section:—

Described in the Pink Section:—

Described in the Blue and Purple Section:—

Described in the Red Section:—

Described in the Miscellaneous Section:—

Roots.—Bearing small tubers.Stems.—Six inches to two feet high.Root-leaves.—Simple and roundish or with three leaflets.Stem-leaves.—Usually with three to five pinnate leaflets, one to three inches long.Flowers.—White to pale rose-color.Sepals and Petals.—Four.Stamens.—Four long and two short.Ovary.—Two-celled. Style simple.Pod.—Slender; twelve to eighteen lines long.Syn.—Cardamine paucisecta, Benth.Hab.—Throughout the Coast Ranges.

What a rapture we always feel over this first blossom of the year! not only for its own dear sake, but for the hopes and promises it holds out, the visions it raises of spring, with flower-covered meadows, running brooks, buds swelling everywhere, bird-songs, and the air rife with perfumes.

It is like the dove sent forth from the ark, this first tentative blossom, thisavant courierof the great army of Crucifers, or cross-bearers, so called because their four petals are stretched out like the four arms of a cross.

It is usually in some sheltered wood that we look for this first shy blossom; but once it has proved the trustworthiness of the skies, it is followed by thousands of its companions, who then come out boldly and star the meadows with their pure white constellations.

The Latin name of this genus (from the worddens, a tooth), translated into the vernacular, becomes toothwort, the terminationwortsignifying merely plant or herb.

It was so named because of the toothed rootstocks of many species.

The little tubers upon the root often have a pungent taste, from which comes one of the other common names—"pepper-root." Various other names have been applied to these flowers, such as "lady's smocks" and "milkmaids."

TOOTHWORT—Dentaria Californica.

Bulb.—Dark-coated.Leaves.—Linear; a foot or two long; deeply channeled.Scape.—Three inches to even four feet high.Flowers.—White.Perianth Segments.—Six; strongly nerved; bearing at base yellow glands; inner segments clawed.Stamens.—Six; shorter than the perianth.Ovary.—Three-celled. Styles three; short.Capsule.—Three-beaked.Hab.—Coast Ranges, San Diego to Humboldt County.

The generic name,Zygadenus, is from the Greek, and signifies yoked glands, referring to the glands upon the base of the perianth segments.

We have several species, the most beautiful and showy of which isZ. Fremonti. This is widely distributed, and grows in very different situations. In our central Coast Range its tall stems, with their lovely clusters of white stars, make their appearance upon rocky hill-slopes with warm exposure, in the shelter of the trees, soon after the toothwort has sprinkled the fields with its white bloom. In the south it rears its tall stems upon open mesas, unprotected by the shelter of friendly tree or shrub, and in some localities it makes itself at home in bogs. It is possible that the future may reveal the presence of more than one species.

It has sometimes been called "soap-plant"; but this name more appropriately belongs toChlorogalum. It somewhat resembles the Star of Bethlehem of Eastern gardens. The fact that it grows in boggy places has given rise to the name of "water-lily" in certain localities; but this ought to be discountenanced, as it bears not the slightest resemblance to the magnificent water-lily of Eastern ponds.

Another species—Z. venenosus, Wats.—is found from Monterey and Mariposa Counties to British Columbia. This may be distinguished from the above by its narrow leaves—only two or three lines wide,—usually folded together, and by its smaller flowers, with perianth segments only two or three lines long; and also by the fact that the stamens equal the segments in length. The bulb is poisonous, and our Northern Indians call it "death camass," while the farmers in the Sierras call it "Lobelia," notbecause of any resemblance to that plant, but because its poisonous effects are similar to those of the latter. It is fatal to horses, but hogs eat it with impunity, from which it is also known as "hogs' potato." It is found in moist meadows or along stream-banks, in June and July.

ZYGADENE—Zygadenus Fremonti.

Shrubs.—Three to fifteen feet high.Leaflets.—One to four inches long.Flowers.—Greenish white; small.Sepals and Petals.—Usually five.Stamens.—As many or twice as many as the petals.Ovary.—One-celled. Styles three: distinct or united.Fruit.—A small, dry, striate, whitish drupe.Hab.—Throughout California.

The presence of the poison-oak in our woods and fields makes these outdoor haunts forbidden pleasures to persons who are susceptible to it. It is closely allied to the poison-ivy of the Eastern States, and very similar in its effects. It is a charming shrub in appearance, with beautiful glossy, shapely leaves; and in early summer, when it turns to many shades of scarlet and purple-bronze, it is especially alluring to the unsuspecting. It is quite diverse in its habit, sometimes appearing as an erect shrub, and again climbing trees or rock surfaces, by means of small aerial rootlets, to a considerable height. Horses eat the leaves without injury; and the honey which the bees distill from its small greenish-white flowers is said to be excellent.

Many low plants seek the shelter of these shrubs, and some of our loveliest flowers, such as Clarkias, Godetias, Collinsias, Brodiæas, and larkspurs, seem to realize that immunity from human marauders is to be had within its safe retreat.

The remedies for oak-poisoning are numerous; and it may not be out of place to mention a few of them here. Different remedies are required by different individuals. Any of the following plants may be made into a tea and used as a wash: Grindelia, manzanita, wild peony, California holly, andRhamnus Purshiania, orCalifornica. Hot solutions of soda, Epsom salts, or saltpeter are helpful to many, and the bulb of thesoap-root,—Chlorogalum pomeridianum—pounded to a paste and used as a salve, allowing it to dry upon the surface and remain for some hours at least, is considered excellent. In fact, any pure toilet soap may be used in the same manner.

POISON OAK—Rhus diversiloba.

Rootstock.—Thickened.Stem.—Erect; stout; a foot or more high; bearing at summit a whorl of three sessile leaves.Leaves.—Rhomboidal; acuminate; netted-veined; five-nerved; two to six inches long.Flower.—Solitary; pure white, turning to deep rose; peduncle one to three inches long.Sepals.—Three; herbaceous.Petals.—One or two inches long.Stamens.—Six.Ovary.—Three-celled. Stigmas three; sessile.Capsule.—Broadly ovate: six-winged.Hab.—The Coast Ranges, from Santa Cruz to British Columbia.

The wake-robin is in the vanguard of our spring flowers, and a walk into some high, cold cañon while the days are still dark and short will be amply rewarded by the finding of its white and peculiarly pure-looking blossoms standing upon the bank overlooking the streamlet. The blossoms remain unchanged for a time, and then, as they fade, turn to a deep purplish rose-color.

Our wake-robin so closely resemblesT. grandiflorum, Salisb., of the Eastern States, that it seems a pity it should have been made into a different species.

Hab.—The coast, from Alaska to San Francisco and southward.

This beautiful strawberry is found growing near the seashore, where its large, delicious berries are often buried beneath the shifting sand, becoming bleached in color. It sometimes covers acres with its thick, shining, dark-green leaves, among which are sprinkled its large pure-white flowers, an inch or more across.

The wood-strawberry—F. Californica—is very common in the Coast Ranges; but for the most part it is dry and flavorless.

WAKE-ROBIN--Trillium ovatum

Shrubs three to twenty-five feet high, with purple-brown bark.Leaves.—Pale.Flowers.—White or pinkish; in crowded clusters.Corolla.—Four or five lines long; campanulate.Stamens.—Ten; filaments dilated and bearded at base; anthers two-celled, opening terminally, each cell furnished with a long downward-pointing horn.Ovary.—Globose; five to ten-celled. Style simple.Fruit.—Six lines in diameter, containing several bony nutlets.Syn.—Arctostaphylos pungens, HBK.Hab.—Throughout the State.

Of all our shrubs, the manzanita is the most beautiful and the best known. Sometimes as early as Christmas it may be found in full bloom, when its dense crown of pale foliage, surmounting the rich purple-brown stems, is thickly sown with the little clusters of fragrant waxen bells. After the blossoms have passed away, the shrubs put forth numerous brilliant scarlet or crimson shoots, which at a little distance look like a strange and entirely new kind of blossoming. The manzanita is closely allied to the madroño, and resembles it in many ways, particularly in the annual peeling of its rich red bark and in the form of its flowers.

The Greek generic name, translated into English, becomes "bearberry." The pretty Spanish name—frommanzana, apple, and the diminutive,ita,—was bestowed by the early Spanish-Californians, who recognized the resemblance of the fruit to tiny apples.

We have a dozen or more species ofArctostaphylos, butA. manzanitais the commonest of them all. It varies greatly in size and habit. In localities most favorable it becomes a large, erect shrub, with many clustered trunks, while in the Sierras it finds but a precarious footing among the granite rocks, often covering their surfaces with its small tortuous, stiff branches. The leaves, by a twisting of their stalks, assume a vertical position on the branches, a habit which enables many plants of dry regions to avoid unnecessary evaporation.

MANZANITA—Arctostaphylos manzanita.

The largest manzanita known is upon the estate of Mr. Tiburcio Parrott, in St. Helena, Napa County, California. Itis thirty-five feet high, with a spread of branches equal to its height, while its trunk measures eleven and a half feet in circumference at the ground, soon dividing into large branches. It is a veritable patriarch, and has doubtless seen many centuries. According to an interesting account in "Garden and Forest," it once had a narrow escape from the ax of a woodman. A gentleman who was a lover of trees, happening to pass, paid the woodman two dollars to spare its life.

Years ago no traveler from the East felt that he could return home without a manzanita cane, made from as straight a branch as could be secured.

The berries of this shrub are dry and bony and quite unsatisfactory. They are, however, pleasantly acid, and have been put to several uses. It is said that both brandy and vinegar are made from them, and housewives make quite a good jelly from some species. Bears are fond of the berries, and the Indians eat them, both raw and pounded into a flour, from which mush is made. The leaves made into a tincture or infusion are now an officinal drug, valued in catarrh of the throat or stomach.

From Monterey to San Diego is foundA. glauca, Lindl., the great-berried manzanita. It closely resembles the above, but its berries are three fourths of an inch in diameter.

Of the same range as the last isA. bicolor, Gray, whose leaves are of a rich, shining green above and white and woolly beneath. Its berries are the size of a pea, yellowish at first, and turning red later.

Leaves.—Few; all radical; oval; one to two inches long, on broad petioles six to twelve lines long.Scape.—Six to eighteen inches high.Flowers.—White or rose; four or five lines across.Calyx.—Deeply five-cleft, with reflexed lobes.Petals.—Borne on the calyx.Stamens.—Ten.Ovaries.—Two; partly united. Styles short. Stigmas capitate.Syn.—S. Virginiensis, Michx.Hab.—Throughout the State.

CALIFORNIAN SAXIFRAGE—Saxifraga Californica.

In the rich soil of cool northward slopes, or on many a mossy bank amid the tender young fronds of the maidenhair,may be found the delicate clusters of our little Californian saxifrage. The plants are small, with but a few, perhaps only one or two, oval, rather hairy leaves, lying upon the ground, and a slender red scape upholding the dainty cluster of small white flowers. The tips of the calyx-lobes are usually red, and the wee stamens are pink.

We have several species of saxifrage, most of which are plants of exceeding delicacy and grace, and with small flowers.

Smooth, succulent herbs.Radical Leaves.—Long-petioled; broadly rhomboidal.Stems.—Simple; six to twelve inches high, having, near the summit, a pair of leaves united around the stem.Flowers.—White.Sepals.—Two.Petals.—Five, minute.Stamens.—Five.Ovary.—One-celled Style slender. Stigma three-cleft.Syn.—Claytonia perfoliata, Don.Hab.—Throughout California.

Though our Indian lettuce is closely allied to the Eastern "Spring Beauty," one would never suspect it from its outward appearance and habit. The little flower-racemes look as though they might have pushed their way right through the rather large saucer-like leaf just below them. The succulent leaves and stems are greedily eaten by the Indians, from which it is called "Indian lettuce."

Mr. Powers, of Sheridan, writes that the Placer County Indians have a novel way of preparing their salad. Gathering the stems and leaves, they lay them about the entrances of the nests of certain large red ants. These, swarming out, run all over it. After a time the Indians shake them off, satisfied that the lettuce has a pleasant sour taste equaling that imparted by vinegar. These little plants are said to be excellent when boiled and well seasoned, and they have long been grown in England, where they are highly esteemed for salads.

MINER'S LETTUCE—Montia Perfoliata.

Rootstock.—Horizontal.Stem.—Six to fourteen inches high.Leaves.—Radical leaf remote from the stem; trifid; the segments serrate. Involucral leaf not far below the flower; three foliolate.Sepals.—Petaloid; five or six; usually bluish outside.Petals.—Wanting.Stamens and Pistils.—Numerous.Akenes.—Two lines long; twelve to twenty.Syn.—Anemone nemorosa, L.Hab.—The Coast Ranges, in moist shade.

The delicate blossoms of the wood anemone might at first be confounded with those of the toothwort by the careless observer, but a moment's reflection will quickly distinguish them. The anemone is always a solitary flower with many stamens, and its petals are of a more delicate texture. It grows upon wooded banks or cool, shaded flats among the redwoods.

There are many quaint traditions as to the origin of its name, and poets have from early times found something ideal of which to sing in these simple spring flowers.

The generic name has the accent upon the third syllable, but, when Anglicized into the common name, the accent falls back upon the second.

Deciduous shrubs; two to fifteen feet high.Leaves.—Broadly oblanceolate; two to four inches long; narrowed into a short petiole.Flowers.—White; in short terminal racemes; diœcious; three to eleven lines across.Calyx.—Top-shaped, with five-lobed border.Petals.—Five; inserted with ten of the stamens on the calyx; broadly spatulate.Stamens.—Fifteen.Ovaries.—Five. Styles short.Fruit.—Blue-black, oblong drupes; six to eight lines long.Hab.—Chiefly the Coast Ranges from San Luis Obispo to Fraser River.

About the same time that the beautiful leaves of the buckeye are emerging from their wrappings, we notice in the woods a shrub which has just put forth its clusters of bright-green leaves from buds all along its slender twigs. Amid their delicate green hang short clusters of greenish-white flowers.These blossoms have a delicious bitter fragrance, redolent of all the tender memories of the springtime.

WOOD ANEMONE—Anemone quinquefolia.

This shrub is usually mistaken for a wild plum; and the illusion is still further assisted when the little drupes, like miniature plums, begin to ripen and hang in yellow and purple clusters amid the matured leaves.

Trunk.—Usually simple; rarely exceeding fifteen feet high; six or eight inches in diameter; naked, or covered with refracted dead leaves, or clothed to the ground with the living leaves.Leaves.—Linear-lanceolate; one to three feet long; one or two inches wide; rigid; margins at length bearing coarse recurved threads.Flowers.—In short-stemmed or sessile, distaff-shaped panicles, a foot or two long; pedicels eventually drooping, twelve to eighteen lines long.Perianth.—Broadly campanulate.Segments.—Six; thirty lines long; six to twelve wide.Stamens.—Six; six to nine lines long; filaments white, club-shaped.Ovary.—Oblong; white; an inch or two long, including the slender style. Stigmas three.Fruit.—Cylindrical; three or four inches long; pendulous, pulpy.Syn.—Yucca baccata, Torr.Hab.—Southern California, from Monterey to San Diego; coast and inland.

The genusYuccacomprises sixteen or eighteen species, and reaches its greatest development in Northern Mexico. Three species are to be found within our borders, two of which are arborescent,Y. arborescens, andY. Mohavensis. Considerable confusion has hitherto reigned among the species, but they are now better understood.

They are all valuable to our Indians as basket and textile plants, and are useful to them in many other ways.

Owing to the structure of the flowers, self-fertilization seems impossible, and scientists who have made a study of the subject say that these plants are dependent upon a little white, night-flying moth to perform this office for them. This little creature goes from plant to plant, gathering the pollen, which she rolls up into a ball with her feet. When sufficient has been gathered, she goes to another plant, lays her egg in its ovary, and before leaving ascends to the stigma and actually pushes the pollen into it, seeming to realize that unless sheperforms this last act, there will be nothing for her progeny to eat. This seems an almost incredible instance of insect intelligence; but it is a well-authenticated fact.

Yucca Mohavensis, commonly called "wild date," or "Spanish bayonet," is more widely distributed within our borders than either of our other species. Its large panicle of overpoweringly fragrant white waxen bells is a striking object wherever seen. On the coast this yucca is often stemless, but in the interior, where it is more abundant, it rises to a considerable height, and culminates upon the Mojave Desert, where the finest specimens are found.

The fruit, which ripens in August and September, turns from green to a tawny yellow, afterward becoming brownish purple, and eventually almost black. This has a sweet, succulent flesh, and, either fresh or dried, is a favorite fruit among the Indians. Dr. Palmer writes that this is one of the most useful plants to the Indians of New Mexico, Arizona, and Southern California. They cut the stems into slices, beat them into a pulp, and mix them with the water in washing, as a substitute for soap.

The leaves are parched in ashes, to make them pliable, and are afterward soaked in water and pounded with a wooden mallet. The fibers thus liberated are long, strong, and durable, and lend themselves admirably to the weaving of the gayly decorated horse-blankets made by the tribes of Southern California. They also make from it ropes, twine, nets, hats, hair-brushes, shoes, mattresses, baskets, etc.

Rootstock.—Slender; branching; creeping; scars not conspicuous.Stem.—About a foot long (sometimes two); usually zigzag above; leafy.Leaves.—Alternate; sessile; lanceolate; two to six inches long; shining above; spreading in a horizontal plane.Flowers.—White; few; in a simple terminal raceme, on pedicels two to seven lines long.Perianth.—Of six, distinct, spreading segments.Segments.—One and one half to four lines long; lanceolate.Stamens.—Six; half the length of the segments.Ovary.—Three-celled. Style short.Berry.—Nearly black; three to five lines through.Hab.—Monterey to British Columbia.

The False Solomon's Seal is one of the prettiest plants in our woods in March, and in many places it almost hides the ground from view. It has a graceful, drooping habit that shows its handsome, spreading leaves to full advantage, and its few delicate little white blossoms are a fitting termination to the pretty sprays.

S. amplexicaulis, Nutt., is a very handsome, decorative plant, with fine, tall, leafy stem, and large, feathery panicle of tiny white flowers. The broadened white filaments are the most conspicuous part of these blossoms, which are less than a line long. The berries are light-colored, dotted with red or purple.

Leaves.—Six to eighteen lines across; smooth.Flowers.—White, pink, or purple.Calyx.—Deeply five-parted.Corolla.—Funnel-form; five-lobed; four lines long.Stamens.—Five.Ovary.—Two-celled.Hab.—Coast Ranges, from Santa Cruz northward.

In appearance these delicate herbs resemble the saxifrages, and they affect much the same sort of places, decking mossy banks and stream borders with their beautiful scalloped leaves and small white flowers.

The genus was named in honor of Nicholas Romanzoff, a Russian nobleman, who, by his munificence, enabled some noted botanists to visit this coast early in the century.

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