to call these cases ‘vegetable mimicries/ Again, let not the term under which we have chosen to collect 
these curiosities be mistaken; it is not, of course, taken to signify that flowers, &c. have the power of con- 
forming themselves to the shape or appearance of other objects; it is intended simply to convey the singular 
fact, that nature repeats in them some of the forms she has ascribed to other members of her great family — 
any correspondence between other forms and appearances, and the works of man, being in many cases a 
mere coincidence, and in more not a copy, but a text. 
Every one has heard of the columbine — not the stage character, but the homely flower of our gardens. 
It has received its name from a Latin word, columba, a pigeon, from the fancied resemblance of a part of its 
flower to the neck and body of that bird, while the lateral petals represent its wings; a cluster of such 
flowers being conceived to present something of the appearance of a brood of young pigeons fluttering 
around their nest. The larkspurs are as well known as the columbine. The bee-larkspur has the appearance 
of a bee busily seeking its food in the centre of the flower — a contrivance which no doubt acts the part of 
a scarecrow; the mimicry being so perfect, as to deter the winged robber from his prey, by the appearance 
of its being preoccupied. The side-saddle flower tells its own tale. A variety of the tulip tribe, called the 
parrot tulip, has its petals broken up into shreds, and folded so as to resemble the crest of a paroquet. A 
greenhouse-tree well known in the vicinity of the metropolis, when in flower, has the very peculiar appearance 
of there being smooth pieces of red coral stuck over its branches, upwards of an inch in length; it is hence 
called the vegetable coral-tree. It is a species of Erythrina ; it is only upon a close scrutiny that the cheat 
is discovered; and we find that the appearance is produced by the folded scarlet flowers of the plant. 
Another species of the same tribe bears a flower which in colour and form strongly resembles a cock’s-comb. 
Then my fair readers will not be much puzzled to declare what article of their adornments the drooping 
flowers of the fuchsia resemble. The littLe wild convolvulus, which twists round the hedge-spray in its 
brilliant pink and white streaks, reminds us of the pretty shells which spangle our sea-shores : while the 
sunflower lifts up his golden face, an apt emblem of his burning prototype: and the Calceolarias bring to 
our remembrance the good old leathern purses of an ancestral generation : and the centre of the impudent 
jonquil perpetuates the memory of the old-fashioned teacups devoid of handles. Then the sweet pea, and 
many another Papilionaceous flower, bears the image of the painted butterfly, which, from the slenderness 
of the stalk, seems to be on the wing. Papilio is the Latin word for this insect. And the Tropcealum tricolor 
has a flower which seems as if it had originally suggested the idea of the cornucopia. 
But the Tropcealum canariense or peregrinum, the canary-bird creeper, is the favourite mimic of the day. 
This plant is a native of South America, and was supposed on this account to require the careful treatment 
of a tropical or greenhouse plant. It was discovered, however, by Mrs. Loudon, that it would bear the 
exposure of our climate; and since that period, it has been successfully cultivated in the open air, and is 
rapidly becoming as common in every cottage window and plot as the convolvulus or any of the ordinary 
creepers. The first few plants acquired publicity at the gates of the Kensington Gardens, where they were 
displayed, and still are, in the greatest luxuriance. At a certain stage in the expansion of this pretty flower, 
the image of a canary is almost as perfect as if it had just left the modeller’s hand; the head is partly bent 
down, and is supported upon a delicate little neck, which joins the body of the bird, while the fringed petals 
admirably mimic the feathers of the canary, and the canary-yellow colour considerably heightens the resem- 
blance. When the flower is further expanded, the similarity in a great measure disappears. 
Some of the Proteaceous plants have beautiful flowers resembling tinted feathers, others have leaves 
fringed with long hairs, so as to resemble the plumes of birds. The leaves of some magniolaceous trees are 
strikingly like the back of a greatcoat — the waist, arms, and tail being all figured. Many other leaves re- 
semble adders’ tongues, harts’ tongues, spears, stags’ horns, hearts, hair, &c. 
But of all mimic plants, none surpass the orchid race, of which Dr. Lindley thus writes: — ‘Some of 
these plants are so different from others, as to make one almost doubt whether they belong to the vegetable 
world. If the Brahmins had been botanists, one might have fancied they took their doctrine of metempsychosis 
from these productions. In the genus Oberonia and Drymoda Pythagoras would have found a living evidence 
of animals transmuted into plants.’ Even those minute orchids which require the use of the microscope 
for their development, wonderful to relate, agree with the larger ones in the possession of this strange 
attribute. 
Our own country possesses some of these plants, which are well known for their mimic powers. The 
fly-orchis and the bee-orchis both represent those insects. In the latter case, the resemblance is quite mar- 
vellous: there is to all appearance a little yellowish flower, upon which a bee seems resting, and plunging 
his long proboscis into its centre; the legs and wings of the insect are faithfully delineated, and the fidelity 
of the imitation is enhanced by the bee being of a different colour to the rest of the flower. A cluster of 
such flowers look just as if a swarm of bees had alighted one on each flower. One of the Oberon genus is 
called the man-orchis, or the Anthropophora, from its close resemblance to the original. The ‘butterfly plants’ 
bear flowers which wear the form of that giddy insect. And, last of the European orchids, the lizard-orchis 
is the most strange of all. Few persons can form an adequate idea of this curious flower who have not seen 
it: it represents the neck and head of a lizard; it portrays the long under-jaw, the gaping mouth, the 
marked head, and even the eye of the reptile, which seems projecting his hideous head and neck from the 
centre of the flower. 
