FORGET-ME-NOT. 273 



To this favourite spot the young girls often 

 descend from the ramparts of the town to spend 

 the leisure hours of their Saints' days, in dancing 

 on the borders of this stream, where they are 

 seen crowned with the flowers which the waters 

 afford them, like so many nymphs celebrating 

 games in honour of the Naiad of the Enchanted 

 Oak. 



These scenes forcibly call to our recollection 

 some beautiful lines of an anonymous poet, who 

 says: 



" I see thee yet, fair France, thpu favour'd land 

 Of art and nature — ^tliou art still before me ; 

 Thy sons, to whom their labour is a sport. 

 So well thy grateful soil returns its tribute ; 

 Thy sun-burnt daughters, with their laug-hing- eyes 

 And glossy raven locks. But, favour'd France, 

 Thou hast had many a tale of woe to tell. 

 In ancient times as now." 



This stream is called the Cascade of the En- 

 chanted Oak, from the circumstance of the spring's 

 escaping with a murmuring noise from the root 

 of an oak of great antiquity. 



For some years past this little flower has been 

 cultivated in France with the greatest care, and 

 when sent to the Parisian markets it finds a more 

 ready sale than any exotic plant. The pots being 

 filled with young cuttings that readily take root 

 and blossom, present such a mass of these deli- 



VoL. 11. T 



