EIVER GARDENS; 



double the size they do when in a drier situation, 

 and become so beautiful in their tender shades of 

 delicate turquoise-blue, enamelled with their deli- 

 cately small touches of white and amber at the base of 

 the petals, that one can fully understand how the fair 

 girl in the German legend longed for those growing 

 out of her reach in the broad shallows of the Rhine. 

 One can sympathise, too, with the enthusiasm of 

 her lover, who, endeavouring to grasp them, lost 

 his balance, and fell into the stream ; being carried 

 away by the treacherous current, still holding the 

 coveted flowers in his clenched hand, and flinging 

 them to the shore as he sunk, crying, " Vergeis 

 mein nicht !" Forget-me-not ! It was the popular 

 name perhaps thus acquired which probably in- 

 duced one of our last Plantagenet kings, Henry V., 

 to assume this pretty flower as his badge, instead of 

 the Broom, which had been that of his ancestors. 

 The name, when so taken, however, as a soldier's 

 motto, was no longer a love-cry, but a shout of 

 defiance ; and the warlike successes of that victori- 

 ous leader were such as to make the war-cry, " For- 

 get me not 1" appropriate enough when addressed 

 to his enemies. I was about to say more upon the 

 subject of the sweet little Forget-me-not and its 

 associations, but space forbids. 



