^J^f^n Qy^^-0M 



EDITOR'S TABLE. 



from the family tree to wither in the dust. Tlie green turf that covers the remains of the loved 

 one is no more strewn with flowers. Is our love less warm, or has fashion forbidden the exercise 

 of tlio kindly feelings of our hearts, that we no longer 



" Bring flowers for Uic brow of tlie curly tload." 



The artist doclcs our brides and Ijridos-maidens with roses and orange blossoms, but the fragrance 

 of nature is wanting — the dewey freshness of buds and flowers from the garden and field. 



■\Vliorc now are our Hay Queens ? Uow lovely is the rcmombrancc of May-day in the meadows, 

 on the banks of the river Davcny in Suffolk, where I passed my happy childhood. What weeks 

 of joyful anticipation that day gave birth to. My father's family came from the Korth of Eng- 

 land, where still among the fells and lakes many of the rnral sports and primitive customs of the 

 people pi'evail, and he encouraged in ns a love for May-day sports. 



I was one of the youngest and a pet, and so my sisters always conferred on me the May crown 

 and sceptre ; and ti'uly, for the time being, no queen could be more happy. My crown, a flowery 

 chaplet — my sceptre, a flower-encircled wand of fresh cut hazel from the copswood — and my 

 throne, a green mole hill in the meadow by the clear flowing river, while all the sisterhood 

 danced round and sung the old pastoral song of "Kate of Aberdeen." The crown was worn till 

 night and then cast a?ide to wither in the dust. 



I have often heard my mother tell how she was frightened on the night of May eve by one of 

 mv sisters walking in her sleep. The children were in the habit, on May morning, of rising up by 

 sunrise to go Maying, and to gather laps full and baskets full of cowslips, primroses, blue bells, 

 and other spring flowers, to make garlands with. My mother was in bed but not asleep, when 

 the door of her bedroom slowly opened and a little figure in a long white night-dress came in ; 

 passing the night light and the table, it came to the side of the bed and held up the full folds of 

 the night gown in its little hands, saying, as it did so, "Fowers Lila, Powers Lila — more fowers." 

 Her dark eyes were rayless and wide open ; but she was sleeping, though her sjnrit was abroad 

 gathering flowers for the coming festival of May-day. 



IS'ot more than half a mile from the old house where I passed my childhood, there was a deep, 

 sandy road called the St. Margaret's road ; from this there branched off" a little narrow lane, which 

 we called the little lane ; on one side it was shut in by steep sand banks, and on the other by 

 a high grassy slope, the boundary of some upland meadow ; on this grew a wild, irregular growth 

 of shrubbery and tall oak trees. Among this jungle, the woodbine and wild briar rose entwined 

 themselves, mixed with brambles and briars, forming luxuriant bowers all carpeted beneath with 

 wood strawberries and wild flowers of every hue. A little tinkling rill that a child might step 

 across, run down on either side this sylvan lane; from this slender streamlet we drank the most 

 limpid water from nature's own chalice — the hollow of onr hands — or sipped it like the fairies we 

 had read so much about, from the acorn cups that strewed the grass. The banks of the rill were 

 lined with violets — deep purple, fragrant violets — pale primroses, and the little sunbright's celan- 

 dine, with that graceful meadow saxifrage, (known in olden time by the homely name of ladies' 

 smocks), all silver white, as Shakespeare calls them. What stores of ripe strawberries we gath- 

 ered in that little lane, and threaded, like crimson beads, upon a stalk of dried grass — a little 

 peace off'ering for our mother when we returned with soiled frocks, or our leave of absence 

 out-stayed. 



Tliis little lane was our childish paradise — our garden of Eden — and in it we laid out and 

 planted a garden for ourselves. Like Canadian squatters, we took to ourselves right of soil and 

 made a free settlement sa7is ceremonie. 



Our garden was laid out right daintily with a grotto of green moss decorated with striped snail 

 shells, the walks were sanded, and the parterres planted with double daisies and violets, polyan- 

 thuses and sweet Williams, daff"odils, snowdrops, and cloth of gold crocussos. Our trowel was 

 old rusty iron ladle and a broken bladed carving knife, while we daily watered our garden 



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