WEEDS OF THE HARDEN. 



ier, 



garden mould and in gravel. Last December the abundant blossoms of 

 our Hellebore weed were conspicuously attractive, and thus they remained 

 unchanged until the first days of April. Even then the light green 

 panicled cymes, in such good contrast with the dark foliage, retain their 

 beauty, while the flower quietly seeds itself away. Long before the 

 Hellebore has failed, Euphorbia (E. La thy vis, or Cape Spurge) begins to 

 dot the borders here and there with the columnar grace of his tall stem. 

 Euphorbia never comes in such numbers as to requiro much clearing away. 

 It may not be a feeling of admiration that rivets attention to this curious 

 weed ; it is more perhaps the strange symmetry of the set of its leaves. 

 An equal measure of parts is no unusual characteristic among plants, 

 yet Euphorbia displays this exact symmetry in rather an uncommon 

 degree. The leaves are said to point north, south, east, and west ; and 

 I believe it to be true — at least it is thus with the Euphorbias in my 

 garden. They may make a mistake sometimes, but as a rule they know 

 the points of the compass. 



What mysterious magnetism is it that moves these strange leaves ? 

 What secret stirring of the slow white sap ? 



A fine plant of Euphorbia rises against one of our walls, and has 

 attained already (May 13) a height of three and a half feet, with an 

 exceedingly massive stem. Down wards from the budding summit, when; 

 are seven buds instead of the usual four, the colour of the stem is all 

 pure lilac bloom fading palely into green. The leaves — blunted at the 

 end, and each one's centre broadly veined in dull white — show a kind of 

 careless vigour. This great Euphorbia king seems scarcely to know 

 what to do with his own immense vitality; and before long the firm 

 smooth pillar will be spoilt by the branching out — Brussels-sprout-wise — 

 of little sprigs all the way down. The bud bears in some degree the 

 semblance of a serpent's head, and so the plant has been called " Medusa " 

 or " Medusa's Head." And also it is said that a dead plant will come to 

 life again and bloom if placed in warm water. I have not tested the 

 truth of this. 



If we climb down from these grand incomprehensibles to the earth 

 around them, which in March they have not yet begun to pierce, we 

 find in that early month numbers of the little field Veronica (Veronica 

 agrestis) about the garden, beginning to twinkle in the morning sun. It 

 is not of much account, being so very small. Yet 1 have seen the furrows 

 of a ploughed field just outside the garden literally blue with it as it lay 

 there in countless multitudes. As the season ripens, Veronica agrestis 

 goes its way and gives no trouble. After this come a few more weeds, 

 both favourites and enemies. In their order of precedence they are 

 these : — Draba verna, Hobin-run-the-Hedge, Bryony, Black and White, 

 Enchanter's Nightshade, Nettles (stinging, white, and yellow), Pimpernel, 

 Fumitory, Corydalis Lutea, Nightshade, Convolvulus, Crane's Bill, Mare's- 

 tail, &C. 



Draba oerna is a sweet little thing, and even in childhood I had 

 learnt its pretty name. When first it Mowers in February, it is like a 

 miniature, so exquisite is the finish of the tiny white Mowers set on their 

 slender stalk. Draba verna is very cheerful in itself, and loves best to make 

 its home on some old mossy ledge, perhaps halfway up a western wall. 



