Our illustration is taken from “Nature’s Garden” and Neltje Blanchan, its author, writes as follows regarding those species of the marsh pinks that are confined to the vicinity of the Atlantic ocean: “Three exquisite members of the Sabbatia tribe keep close to the Atlantic coast in salt meadows and marshes, along the borders of brackish rivers, and very rarely in the sand at the edges of fresh-water ponds a little way inland. From Maine to Florida they range, and less frequently are met along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico so far as Louisiana. How bright and dainty they are! Whole meadows are radiant with their blushing loveliness. Probably if they consented to live far away from the sea, they would lose some of the deep, clear pink from out their lovely petals, since all flowers show a tendency to brighten their colors as they approach the coast. “The Sea or Marsh Pink, whose graceful alternate branching stem attains a height of two feet only under most favorable conditions, from July to September opens a succession of pink flowers that often fade to white. The yellow eye is bordered with carmine. They measure about one inch across, and are usually solitary at the ends of branches, or else sway on slender peduncles from the axils.” This plant is frequently called the American Centaury, but it is not the plant of which Pliny wrote these words: “Centaury, it is said, effected a cure for Chiron (the Centaur), on the occasion when, while handling the arms of Hercules, his guest, he let one of his arrows fall upon his foot: hence it is said that by some it is called ‘Chironion.’” Botanists are practically agreed that the plant mentioned by Pliny was a species of the genus Centaurea, so well represented in this country by the bachelor’s-button of our gardens. THE WORLD. Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, With the wonderful water around you curled, And the wonderful grass upon your breast— World, you are beautifully drest! The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the top of the hills. —John Greenleaf Whittier. THE WATER OUSEL. Washington state can boast of possessing many beautiful birds. Their beauty consists not only in bright and brilliant plumage, but also in sweetness of song. The old favorites are here; those whose liquid notes are so familiar and so dear to every American ear. There are the yellow-vested meadow lark, robin red breast, the blue bird, black bird, linnet, cat-bird, and a great many little warblers whose names I cannot mention. Ah! there is Miss Jennie Wren, for whose sake Sir Cruel Sparrow “with his bow and arrow,” slew Mr. Cock Robin. Then we have Mr. Wee Tomtit. Of course we have the-ever-to-be admired humming bird.