MARCH 263 



Where seedlings appear, they are let alone all the sum- 

 mer and autumn till after flowering time in spring. 

 They look lovely and brave these cold, dry, March 

 days ; but their stalks are rather short here, for want of 

 moisture. If anyone wants to see this Violet to perfec- 

 tion, let him chance to be in Rome early in March, as I 

 once was, and let him go to the old English cemetery, 

 where Keats lies buried, and the heart of Shelley, and 

 he will see a never-to-be-forgotten sight — the whole 

 ground blue with the Violets, tall and strong above 

 their leaves, the air one sweet perfume, and the sound 

 (soft and yet distinct) of the murmur of spring bees. 



Just at this time we rake off the winter jnulching 

 that has covered the Asparagus beds, water them well 

 with liquid manure, and salt them when the rain comes. 

 March 16th. — As the seasons come round, the 

 changes often recall to my mind certain verses in 

 ' Bethia Hardacre's ' volume. Such tender, loving ver- 

 sions of some of nature's facts are there, and I go out 

 to verify them. The garden now is one mass of 

 Crocuses, Violets, fading Snowdrops and bursting 

 Daffies ; and this is how the flower -chain is described 

 by her : 



Blossoms, meet to mourn the dead. 



On each season's grave are spread ; 



Lilies ■white and Roses red 



O'er dead Spring are canopied; 



Eoses, in their latest bloom, 



Blazen golden Summer's tomb; 



Stealthy showers of petals fall 



At still Autumn's funeral ; 



But the darlings of the year 



Strew rude Winter's sepulchre.. 



Scarce a flower does Winter own ; 

 Of four seasons he alone 

 Scarce a bud does to him take — 

 Barren for the future's sake, 



