178 A GLANCE AT BRITISH WILD FLOWERS. 



But the nettle here referred to was probably the 

 stingless, dead nettle. 



A Scotch farmer with whom I became acquainted 

 took me on a Sunday afternoon stroll through his 

 fields. I went to his kirk in the forenoon ; in the 

 afternoon he and his son went to mine, and liked the 

 sermon as well as I did. These banks and braes of 

 Doon, of a bright day in May, are eloquent enough 

 for anybody. Our path led along the river course 

 for some distance. The globe-flower, like a large 

 buttercup with the petals partly closed, nodded here 

 and there. On a broad, sloping, semicircular bank, 

 where a level expanse of rich fields dropped down to 

 a springy, rushy bottom near the river's edge, and 

 which the Scotch call a brae, we reclined upon the 

 grass and listened to the birds, all but the lark new 

 to me, and discussed the flowers growing about. In 

 a wet place the " gillyflower " was growing, suggest- 

 ing our dentaria, or crinkle-root This is said to be 

 " the lady's smock all silver-white " of Shakespeare, 

 but these were not white, rather a pale lilac. Near 

 by, upon the ground, was the nest of the meadow 

 pipit, a species of lark, which my friend would have 

 me believe was the wood-lark, a bird I was on the 

 lookout for. The nest contained six brown-speckled 

 eggs, a large number, I thought. But I found 

 that this is the country in which to see birds'-nests 

 crowded with eggs, as well as human habitations 

 thronged with children. A white umbelliferous plant, 

 very much like wild carrot, dotted the turf here and 



