THE ARROW-LEAVED VIOLET. 



supposed to have been famous " Queen Bess," of England's " Sea- 

 girt Isle," who, for reasons not far to find, though perhaps not 

 fair to mention, was not an inspirer of the tender passion to 

 any great extent, nor much susceptible to it, either. 



Being " all armed " one night, the little god drew such a bow 

 as that it might, Oberon says, "have pierced an hundred thousana 

 hearts." But his aim was poor, or the " fair vestal " was armored 

 with double-plated steel, for unharmed 



" The imperial votaress passed on 

 In maiden meditation, fancy free." 



Oberon continues : 



"Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell; 

 It fell upon a little western flower, 

 Before milk-white; now purple with love's wound, 

 And maidens call it ' love-in-idleness.' 

 Fetch me that flower; the herb I showed thee once; 

 The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid, 

 Will make or man or woman madly dote 

 Upon the next live creature that it sees." 



It wrought a most absurd charm upon sprightly Queen Tita- 

 nia, in that fairy world of dreams. But it has not ceased, even 

 to this time, to have a charm, which it can easily cast over the 

 hearts of Nature's worshippers, who go about seeking shrines in 

 woodland and field, by mountain and river. 



I think no one reared in the country will ever have the 

 memories of spring rambles through the woods and pastures, in 

 childhood, disassociated from the " blue violets." They were 

 everywhere beneath our feet. We could always find them, and 

 never too many of them. Who does not also remember a 



