BOTANICAL RAMBLES. 



CHAPTER I. 



THE MEADOW. 



" What though I trace each herb and flower 



That sips the morning dew ; 



Did I not own Jehovah's power, 



How vain were all I knew !" 



You asked me a few days ago, of what use 

 were all the dried plants which I was so care- 

 fully fastening to paper ; and you will recollect, 

 perhaps, that I then evaded the question, suffer- 

 ing you for the time to think that I was commit- 

 ting great waste in spoiling so much good paper. 

 When I told you, on another occasion, that, 

 amongst my numerous collection of stones, stained 

 with spots of yellow, and grey, and black, there 

 were none which contained any useful mineral, 

 you seemed yet more surprised. " Had they 

 been specimens of ore," you said, " you could 

 conceive it possible that they might be worth 

 collecting and examining;" and I saw at the 

 same time (although you expressed no opinion 

 on the subject) that you thought me a sad trifler, 

 devoting, to a very unprofitable subject, time 

 which might advantageously be employed in read- 



