90 OUR VIOLETS. 
unable to move, I found that this proceeded from a Stoat, in the 
hedge-bottom, which had evidently fascinated the Wagtail, for 
as soon as I drove the Stoat away, the bird flew off, glad to be 
released from the power of its foe. 
I trust that these few remarks may lead to farther corres- 
pondence upon this subject, which appears to me to be one of 
considerable interest to naturalists. 
R. M. Bowsreap, M.D. 
, Wycombe Wild Flowers. 
II—OUR VIOLETS (Violacee). 
G aa more the season of spring is approaching; once more 
‘‘the winter is past—the flowers appear on the earth; the 
time of the singing of birds is come;’’ and the naturalist, who 
has been eagerly watching each faint foreshadowing of the 
resurrection, as it were, of plants and insects, now begins to 
prepare for a full enjoyment of the daily-increasing beauties of 
Nature. Not that he is weak enough to believe in the “‘ethereal 
mildness,” with which the poet invested spring; he knows 
full well that cutting winds, and heavy rain, and chilly frosts 
make that season at the best achangeful one; but in spite of 
all these, there is a development in Nature which nothing can 
entirely check, and which each day brings a step nearer to per- 
fection. 
Among the avant-couriers of the floral train, the Violets claim 
a foremost place, and demand at least a passing notice as their 
right: we will, therefore, give a few moments to their inspection. 
We cannot here, as at Mentone, wander forth into valleys filled 
with double-blossomed Violets, where the air is literally laden 
with the fragrance they give forth; nevertheless, one of our own 
species is sufficiently sweet and lovely, and we value it none the 
less because we have to search for its blossoms among its beds of 
green leaves. We have in the neighbourhood of Wycombe, at 
