SELBORNIA N A , fir. 
13 
“ How sad to wake and find ’twas but a dream ! 
To feel the blasts of winter’s icy breath, 
And shiver ’neath the pale sun’s cheerless beam, 
To hear no lark, to die a lonely death.” 
Wild Flowers in Winter. — Daisies in December are not quite so rare as 
would appear from the verses just quoted, and it is certainly to be hoped that 
each one does not go through the mournful process of disillusionment described by 
the poet. Miss C. R. Little, of Twickenham, and some other young ladies whose 
enthusiasm for botany leads them to cultivate the study in all seasons, send us 
the following list of December flowers found in Middlesex — which has probably the 
poorest flora of any county in England — daisy, wild pansy, primrose, dandelion, red 
campion, gray procumbent speedwell, field speedwell, shepherd’s purse, groundsel, 
chickweed, ivy, white dead-nettle, red dead-nettle, common ragwort, wild straw- 
berry', meadow buttercup, white clover, mouse-ear chickweed, ivy-leaved toad- 
flax, furze, wood-sage, common mayweed, pimpernel, all-heal, yarrow, wild 
camomile, tormentil, bramble, cut-leaved geranium, annual meadow-grass (thirty- 
in all). Gilbert White, in the Naturalists’ Calendar, only notes about half-a-dozen 
plants found in bloom in December. 
Mr. T. F. Wakefield on Collectors. — The following is an extract from 
an interesting paper read at a recent meeting of the Lower Thames Valley- 
Branch of the Selborne Society, held at the Star and Garter Hotel, Rich- 
mond. Prizes were distributed by Sir Edward Hertslet for some excellent 
collections of dried plants ; and subsequently that genial and enthusiastic Selbor- 
nian, Mr. T. F. Wakefield, made the following strictures upon collectors. 
We shall be glad to hear what those wicked persons, the “scientific botanists,” 
think of the grave charges made against them ! “ It seems to me that two of the 
chief objects of the Selborne Society are (1) to foster the love of the beautiful in 
nature with a view to its preservation, and (2) to teach a reverence for life, whether 
it be of animals, birds, insects or plants. You can take life, but you cannot give 
it. Life is a mystery which neither the man of science nor the metaphysician can 
explain. Familiarity, it is said, breeds contempt, and we are so hedged about with 
the traditional and commonplace in ordinary life that we are actually hindered from 
thinking for ourselves, and we are content to call things common and pass them 
by as unworthy of regard when they are really objects of the most transcendent 
beauty. The daisy and the buttercup are common in the sense of being plentiful, 
but in no other sense, for they are flowers of exquisite grace, both of form and 
colour. In Nature nothing is common. We must open our minds and ey-es, and 
we shall then recognise, as Carlyle says, ‘ how every object has a divine beauty in 
it ; how every object verily is a window through which we may look into infinitude 
itself. He that can discern the loveliness of things we call him poet, painter, man 
of genius, gifted, lovable.’ This capacity for discernment is latent in most of us, 
and can be developed. Let it be our work to develop it, especially in the young. 
And when we remember that ‘ all things whatsoever that we look upon are 
emblems to us of their great Creator,’ this work will become not only a pleasure 
but almost a religious duty-. After what I have said we members of the committee 
will not be expected to apologise for having brought you here merely to see a 
collection of wild flowers and plants. By your presence here you are rendering a 
service to the cause of true education. To make a collection of wild flowers, to 
form an herbarium, is an education in itself ; it calls forth the powers of perception 
and observation, it disciplines the eye to distinguish varieties of form and grada- 
tions of shade and colour, it trains the mind to have a due regard for order and 
arrangement, and above all provides a never-failing source of amusement and in- 
struction, and, I may say, a life-long occupation. But here I would add a word 
of warning. The Selborne Society has no sympathy with mere collectors, whose 
object seems to be to catch or pluck up everything that comes in their way and 
transfer it to their collection. I am not sure, but I speak with trembling 
lips, that it is at one with the scientific botanist, who does not care about 
prettiness and neatness in his specimens, but digs up the root of the plant and 
transfers all of it bodily to his herbarium. Man may be the lord of the creation, but 
I deny his right to destroy anything unnecessarily- ; he is only the last link in the 
