m covered with bristle-like spikes. This last variety has
leaves, not very abundant,--which resemble a sprig of young fir, and is
sometimes called "ground-fir." It is of a deep rich green color, but not
so graceful for trimming as the other kind. Besides the creeping green,
there are many varieties of what children call "tree-green," independent
little plants rooted deep in the mould, which send up a single stalk
about eight inches high. Some of these are such perfect little trees as
to appear diminutive copies of the firs and pines towering far above
them, and are called "fir club-moss." A pretty evergreen to mix with the
more feathery varieties is the _Chimaphila umbellata_, or prince's-pine.
It has bright shining dark green leaves, which have a very bitter taste,
and is sometimes called bitter wintergreen.

[Illustration: BRINGING HOME CHRISTMAS GREEN.--DRAWN BY J. O. DAVIDSON.]

As all these ground varieties need to be gathered before ice and snow
begin, often weeks before Christmas, care must be taken to keep them
from drying. They should be heaped up in some cool, damp place, where
they will not freeze, and should be sprinkled plenteously every day. The
boys make frames in the form of crosses, stars, wreaths, or letters, and
the girls find a pretty pastime in tying on the greens. As fast as the
designs are finished they must also be laid away and kept damp until
Christmas. Woodland mosses, holly leaves and scarlet berries, and dried
everlasting flowers are pretty to mix with the green. Branches of
hemlock and young firs for Christmas trees are cut as near
Christmas-time as possible. If a room is to be made into a bower of
hemlock boughs, they should not be fastened up until the morning of
Christmas-eve, as the heated air of the house loosens the flat,
tooth-shaped leaves from the branch, and the least movement sends them
in clouds to the floor. Any one who has tried to sweep them from the
carpet after Christmas, will prefer some other variety of green for
trimming another year.

The immense amount of green brought into New York city the week
preceding Christmas can scarcely be estimated. Viewing the hundreds of
young firs in the markets, and the enormous numbers of wreaths and other
designs, it would seem as if the forests and swamps had been stripped to
such an extent that nothing would be left for another year; but so
prodigal is Nature of her beautiful club-mosses and her aromatic pines,
that what is gathered