122 OUR COMPOUND FLOWERS. 



of the thistle down with the gentle winds*. Very true, — these are 

 miniature traits, but they are as essential to the composition of the 

 landscape as are to the completion of human happiness the many 

 little emotions and impressions, the numerous trivial incidents which 

 separately pass away almost unfelt and unperceived. 



It adds to their influence on the landscape, that the Syngenesia 

 flower throughout the year. The Coltsfoot comes before the Swallow 

 dares, and takes the winds of March with beauty ; and the Dandelion 

 and Daisy push forth, at the same time, some pioneers to prepare us 

 for the large hosts of them that shall appear in matured spring. In 

 April, the Butter-bur shoots up her empurpled pyramidal clusters to 

 meet the just awakened humble-bees which then crowd about them, 

 uttering their active pleasure in a not unpleasing hum, as they flit 

 from flower to flower. The jocund May dresses herself in a garment 

 pied with daisies, and buttercups, and dandelions ; and before these 

 have begun to grow thin and pale, the Hieracium pilosella has 

 blossomed on every sunny bank, ushering in a numerous race of 

 Horse-gowans, Ox-eyes, Rag-weeds, Hawkbits and Hawk-weeds, — all 

 plants of middle summer, — but some of which continue to extend 

 their flowery life through the autumn, where they meet and mix 

 agreeably with Hieracia, the thistle-tribe and knapweeds. And these 

 have a long struggle with the advancing winter. Then the hoar-frost 

 lies long on the large rosette of green leaves of our biennial thistles ; 

 and then the benumbed humble-bee lays herself on the purple couch 

 of their late flowers, where I would not wittingly disturb the rest 

 that shall soon glide into a gentle death ; but, if perchance disturbed, 

 'tis ciirious to observe how piteously the insect, with outstretched and 

 stiffened limbs, and a most drowsy hum, pleads her prayer, — "Leave 

 me, leave me to repose f." But the troop of flowers are gone, and 



* " And, in our vacant mood, 



Not seldom did we stop to watch some tuft 



Of dandelion seed or thistle's beard. 



That skimmed the surface of the dead calm lake. 



Suddenly halting now — a lifeless stand ! 



And starting off again with freak as sudden ; 



In all its sportive wanderings, all the while. 



Making report of an invisible breeze 



That was its wings, its chariot, and its horse. 



Its playmate, rather say, its moving soul." — Wordsw^orth. 



t A friend on perusing the MS. — 'tis some years agone — made wicked 

 fun with this sentence, but I have since found a very similar one in a good 

 and pleasant author : — " The Humble-bee, torpid on the disc of the purple 

 thistle, just lifts a limb to pray forbearance of injury, to ask for peace, and 

 bids us ' Leave him, leave him to repose.' " Journal of a Naturalist. — In 

 the " Letters of Rusticus " we have this passage : — " The Humble-bees on 

 a sunflower are also very odd-mannered ; they get as drunk as Bacchus or 

 Silenus ; then they get sleepy as Morpheus, and cross as Cerberus ; if 

 you touch one he leans on one side, cocking up the opposite legs into the 

 air, and plays divers other antics, till, with his various trials to show that 

 he is compos mentis, and able to fight and defend himself, he sidles, staggers, 

 rolls, and falls to the groinid, and there lies on his back till he has slept 



