i io FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



tions, too, our lanes give in the hot June and July days, 

 with their whispering shadows, and cool retreats from the sun, 

 where bees are busy among the bramble blossoms, and butter- 

 flies hover lazily around the white convolvulus vases, or, 

 sipping the nectar, are poised gracefully on the rims of the 

 wild roses that shine as stars in the twilight of the noontide 

 lane. 



In the lanes to-day there is a wealth of blossoms. Here 

 and there like snow-drifts the stitchwort has opened its fragile 

 yet exquisite buds among its narrow foliage. The beautiful 

 Arum maculatum has at last shown its club-shaped spadix of 

 purple colour among its glossy arrow-shaped leaves; the 

 wonderful way in which this blossom is fertilised is known 

 to most of us, ending in its conspicuous cylindrical mass of 

 scarlet berries we many have admired, dotting the hedge- 

 banks among autumn's withered leaves. Here also the 

 guelder-rose not the " snow-ball tree " of the garden is 

 showing its cymes of white in the hedge of the lane, and 

 by its side the wild cherry is letting fall its myriads of tiny 

 silver petals. 



We are standing on the very threshold of Summer. The 

 tufted vetch is climbing among the hawthorn, the silverweed 

 is creeping across the pathway ; while many another flower 

 takes the sunlight's hint and hastens to offer its tribute of 

 bright blooms. 



