126 MAY. 



amid the thickly springing verdure of the meadow 

 we hail the golden and spotted cowslip. In woods 

 there is a bright azure gleam of Myosotis sylvatica, 

 a species of forget-me-not, and of those truly vernal 

 flowers called by botanists Scilla nutans, by poets 

 Blue bells, and by country folk Cuckoo's stockings. 

 The ferns are pushing forth their russet scrolls 

 amongst the forest moss and dead leaves. In pools 

 and none of our indigenous plants can rival our 

 aquatic ones in elegance and delicate beauty are 

 this month found the lovely water-violet (Hottonia 

 palustris) and the buck-bean, originally bog-bane or 

 bog-plant, from its place of growth (Menyanthes 

 trifoliata), like a fringed hyacinth. The gorse and 

 broom are glorious on heaths and in lanes. 



In the early part of this month, if we walk into 

 woods, we shall be much struck with their peculiar 

 beauty. Woods are never more agreeable objects 

 than when they have only half assumed their green 

 array. Beautiful and refreshing is the sight of the 

 young leaves bursting forth from the gray boughs, 

 some trees at one degree of advance, some at ano- 

 ther. The assemblage of the giants of the wood is 

 seen, each in its own character and figure ; neither 

 disguised nor hidden in the dense mass of foliage 

 which obscures them in summer; you behold the 

 scattered and majestic trunks; the branches stretch- 

 ing high and wide ; the dark drapery of ivy which 

 envelopes some of them, and the crimson flush that 

 glows in the world of living twigs above. If the 

 contrast of gray and mossy branches, and of the 



