H ERBS 



nothing is omitted. Even the silver weed, the 

 dusty-looking foliage which is thrust aside as you 

 walk on the footpath by the road, is here labelled 

 with truth as " cosmopolitan " of habit. 



Bird's-foot lotus, another Downside plant, lights 

 up the stones put to represent rockwork with its 

 yellow. Saxifrage, and stonecrop, and house-leek 

 are here in variety. Buttercups occupy a whole 

 patch a little garden to themselves. What 

 would the haymakers say to such a sight ? Little, 

 too, does the mower reck of the number, variety, 

 and beauty of the grasses in a single armful of 

 swathe, such as he gathers up to cover his jar 

 of ale with and keep it cool by the hedge. The 

 bennets, the flower of the grass, on their tall stalks, 

 go down in numbers as countless as the sand of 

 the seashore before his scythe. 



But here the bennets are watched and tended, 

 the weeds removed from around them, and all the 

 grasses of the field cultivated as affectionately as 

 the finest rose. There is something cool and 

 pleasant in this green after the colours of the herbs 

 in flower, though each grass is but a bunch, yet it 

 has with it something of the sweetness of the 

 meadows by the brooks. Juncus, the rush, is here, 

 a sign often welcome to cattle, for they know that 

 water must be near; the bunch is cut down, and 

 the white pith shows, but it will speedily be up 



