116 A RAMBLE TO BRANDY COVE. 



dark-purple centre and bright-yellow pip in the eye. 

 Three most sweet little flowers, sweet, I mean, to the 

 eye ; for, alas ! neither of them is endowed with fra- 

 grance, the pimpernel, the loosestrife, and the ger- 

 mander-speedwell, scarlet, yellow, and blue, grow 

 in profusion within a few yards of each other here. 

 I was tempted to try how a bouquet would look com- 

 posed exclusively of these three. The effect was most 

 charming, the loosestrife supplying the foliage, of 

 which the others were lacking. What a pity that 

 such a garland should be scentless ! 



As the ground rises, a commanding view of the 

 town is opened, which, to be sure, offers nothing either 

 attractive or imposing. What the stranger is most 

 struck with, is the gray hue of all the houses ; they 

 look exactly like the dwellings in the New England 

 States and the British Colonies. The peculiarity is, 

 that the walls are faced with slates of a silvery-gray 

 appearance, which bears the closest resemblance to the 

 clap-boarding with which it is customary to cover 

 houses in those timber countries. 



Higher still, through another field, where the tiny, 

 yellow heads of the medic are abundant, and that 

 curious species of potentilla, well called silver-weed, 

 that looks as if children had been snipping fancy 

 leaves with scissors out of a piece of French-gray 

 satin. Before we leave this field, however, let us turn 

 and look. Is it not a glorious prospect ? Where but 

 in England could we see such scenery ? 



What a sweet calm reigns over all ! It looks like 



