NOVEMBER, 1881. 85 



not the outcome of the sudden mild weather, any more 

 than the row of primroses along our hedge with a 

 northern and western exposure, the daisies blooming as 

 in early summer, the brilliant blue flowers of the 

 periwinkle as vigorous as in spring, the auriculas, 

 hepaticas, and candy tufts forgetful of the months, and 

 the Christmas roses with a mass of fresh buds hurrying 

 forth to join the gay and untimeous assembly. Here 

 comes a fresh growth of bean stem hanging with blossom, 

 but not with the vigorous scent of the summer, any more 

 than the freshly-plucked head of the mignonette we have 

 just had held beneath our nostrils. Roses, red and 

 hardy or pale and delicate, are all around us, and we are 

 wondering, like all the rest of "the world," what has 

 driven them all forth at this time of the year, as if scoffing 

 at the prophets who are predicting a severe winter. 



When wading in the sea a few days ago we were 

 satisfied the water was no milder than usual, yet our 

 ponds were newly coated with a luxuriant growth of sea- 

 weed, both ulna and edocarpus, the latter an annual that 

 has disappeared some time since from its usual habit, 

 and been thrown ashore in decaying heaps. So this is 

 quite a fresh and unanticipated crop to defile the smooth 

 sides of the concrete ponds, and the sea is quite as 

 determined to be bizarre and singular as any bit of land 

 about. Here, too, as we row along, is a bit of floating 

 wood to mark and buoy a submarine structure we lowered 

 to its place just a month ago. It looks dirty as we 

 approach, and proves to be covered with a floating beard 

 of seaweed already several inches in length ! This, 

 although at least three weeks of the month it has been 

 there have been occupied by a succession of almost 

 unprecedented gales, for the most part accompanied by 



