360 MEMOIR OF DR. HARVEY. 



To Mrs. F. 



March 24th, 1865. 

 You would be amused at what we call " a wind " here. Any 

 breath that stirs a leaf or does but move the little twigs of the pine- 

 tops We regard with suspicion, and seek to guard against ; and to 

 hear people talk, you would think it was really blowing. We 

 keep as much as possible in the perfectly still places where the 

 sun shines. 



No perfume yet from the pines, nor will it come till the 

 really hot weather, which we are told to expect next month. 

 March last year was quite hot. Our friends lend us books, and 

 books are an important item in a place where the whole daily 

 " duty of man " seems to be to walk up and down till you are 

 tired, and then to rest, and begin again. There is nothing 

 else to be done here, and the botany is of the simplest. Very 

 few flowers of any kind ; the chief are chickweed, daisy, 

 dandelion, and groundsel ; not a primrose, not a violet (even a 

 " dog " one) to be seen. We had a search for some clover 

 leaves to make a shamrock, but after wearing it in our hats we 

 found out we had mistaken the day, and kept it on the 18th ! 

 The gardens as yet make but little show ; peach-trees are in 

 blossom, and lilac beginning to expand its panicles and unfold 

 its leaves. The Forsythea in some gardens beautifully covered 

 with blossoms, and also the Chinese magnolia, that blooms 

 before the leaves. People don't seem to care for spring bulbs ; 

 not a crocus to be seen. The public gardens, being intended 

 for the delight of summer visitors, are still covered with 

 straw. I expect they will be gay, as there are a great many 

 frames full of bedding-out plants. And now I think I have 

 exhausted all my local news. 



April 26th. We took a charming drive to La Teste, a village 

 about three miles distant, at the head of the bay. The road 

 very pretty, bordered with deciduous trees, which are just in 

 their newest and freshest green dress, and these backed by 

 dark pines, under which the large yellow broom was profusely 

 in blossom. Then, after a while, the road opened at one side, to 

 the broad harbour, and we had meadows (rare things here) on 

 the other side, and the sun shone, and the fresh but gentle 

 breeze blew, and we went gaily along. Yesterday I took the 



