100 MAY. 



hawthorn leaves. Primroses still scatter their 

 million of pale stars over shady banks, and 

 among the mossy roots of hazels ; and once 

 more, amid the thickly-springing verdure of 

 the meadow we hail the golden and spotted 

 cowslip. In woods there is a bright azure 

 gleam of Myosotis sylvatica, a species of forget- 

 me-not, and of those truly vernal flowers called 

 by botanists Scilla nutans, by poets blue bells ; 

 and by country folk Cuckoo's stockings. The 

 ferns are pushing forth their russet scrolls 

 amongst the forest moss and dead leaves. In 

 pools — and none of our indigenous plants can 

 rival our aquatic ones in elegance and delicate 

 beauty — are this month found the lovely water- 

 violet (Hottonia palustris) and the buck-bean, 

 originally boy-banc or bog-plant, from its place 

 of growth (Menyanthes trifoliata), like a fringed 

 hyacinth. The gorse and broom are glorious 

 on heaths and in lanes. 



In the early part of this month if we walk 

 into woods we shall be much struck with their 

 peculiar beauty. Woods are never more agree- 

 able objects than when they have only half 

 assumed their green array. Beautiful and re- 

 freshing is the sight of the young leaves burst- 

 ing forth from the grey boughs, some trees at 

 one degree of advance, some at another. The 

 assemblage of the giants of the wood is seen, 



