The China Aster begins to blow when other flowers are scarce. It is like an afterthought of Flora’s, who smiles at leaving us. The China Aster was introduced into Europe by Father d’Insarville, a Jesuit missionary; who, about the year 1730, sent seeds of it to the royal gardens of Paris. As, by cultivation, many varieties of the Aster have been obtained, the flower has been made the emblem of variety. * * * * * The sleepless streams move onward Through beds of idling lilies, Chiding the foolish flowers That watch their mirrored beauty; So live the thoughtless many, Who throng the halls of fashion. _Dawes._ * * * * * I love the ever-varying hue Upon the face of heaven; I would not have it always blue, But oft with lightning riven. I would not have wide oceans spread A mirror e’er to see; But lashed to many a cresty head By scowling tempests free! _C. Watson._ * * * * * Play every string in love’s sweet lyre-- Set all its music flowing; Be air, and dew, and light, and fire, To keep the soul-flower growing. _Mrs. Osgood._ * * * * * The rapid and the deep--the fall, the gulf, Have likenesses in feeling and in life. And life, so varied, hath more loveliness In one day than a creeping century Of sameness. _Bailey._ * * * * * Youth loves and lives on change, Till the soul sighs for sameness; which at last Becomes variety; and takes its place. _Bailey._ * * * * * Variety’s the source of joy below, From which still fresh revolving pleasures flow; In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flame renews. _Gay._ * * * * * Wherefore did nature pour her bounties forth With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, But all to please and sate a curious taste? _Milton._ AMERICAN STARWORT.... _Welcome_. The Starwort is another late-blooming flower. It is exclusively indigenous to North America and the Cape of Good Hope. The flowers are of every variety of hue, and present a very attractive appearance. * * * * * Stranger, new flowers in our vales are seen, With a dazzling eye, and a lovely green.-- They scent the breath of the dewy morn: They feed no worm, and they hide no thorn, But revel and grow in our balmy air; They are flowers which Freedom hath planted there.