I am never weary with strolling about, climbing the hills in every direction, to catch some new prospect, or gather some new flowers, which, though getting late in the summer, are still abundant.
Among the plants with whose names I am acquainted, are a variety of shrubby asters, of every tint of blue, purple, and pearly white; a lilac _monarda_, most delightfully aromatic, even to the dry stalks and seed-vessels; the white _gnaphalium_, or everlasting flower; roses of several kinds, a few late buds of which I found in a valley near the church. I also noticed among the shrubs a very pretty little plant, resembling our box; it trails along the ground, sending up branches and shoots; the leaves turn of a deep copper red, yet, in spite of this contradiction, it is an evergreen. I also noticed some beautiful lichens, with coral caps surmounting the grey hollow foot-stalks, which grow in irregular tufts among the dry mosses; or more frequently I found them covering the roots of the trees or half-decayed timbers. Among a variety of fungi, I gathered a hollow cup, of the most splendid scarlet within, and a pale fawn colour without; another very beautiful fungi consisted of small branches, like clusters of white coral, but of so delicate a texture, that the slightest touch caused them to break.
The ground in many places was covered with a thick carpet of strawberries, of many varieties, which afford a constant dessert during the season to those who choose to pick them,—a privilege of which I am sure I should gladly avail myself were I near them in the summer. Besides the plants I have myself observed in blossom, I am told the spring and summer produce many others; the orange lily; the phlox, or purple _lichnidea_; the mocassin flower, or lady’s slipper; lilies of the valley in abundance; and, towards the banks of the creek and the Otanahee, the splendid cardinal flower (_lobelia cardinalis_) waves its scarlet spikes of blossoms.
I am half inclined ta be angry, when I admire the beauty of the Canadian flowers, to be constantly reminded that they are scentless, and therefore scarcely worthy of attention; as if the eye could not be charmed by beauty of form and harmony of colours, independent of the sense of smelling being gratified.