146 
THE BOTANICAL LOOKER-OUT. 
In my last communication I presented my readers with a bed of Roses, to 
which I hope no objection has been made ; but while we have been reposing upon 
it, I find so many flowers have sprung up around us, that unless numbers are 
altogether neglected, an additional paper is absolutely necessary to recount those 
that belong to the delightful month of June. 
I may here mention a subject not previously dilated upon—the coincidence of 
the flowering of certain plants with particular days of festivals. Rustic observers, 
men without books, having often observed particular flowers appearing almost 
constantly when they were engaged upon some ever-recurring employment, or on 
some holiday they delighted in, at length associated these flowers with the 
anniversaries referred to, and conceived that the times of their observations were 
not legitimately arrived, if the flowers were not apparent in their beauty. Thus 
Dyer has made Sheep-shearing to correspond with the flowering of the Elder 
( Sambucus nigra )— 
“ If verdant Elder spreads 
Her silver flowers, if humble Daisies yield 
To yellow Crowfoot and luxuriant Grass, 
Gay shearing-time approaches.” 
This, according to Forster, as marked in the ephemeris of Nature, should be 
about the 5th of June, and in average years the Elder is often in full flower by 
that time; but in the ungenial season of 1838 I observed no flowering Elder 
till June 23rd; and even this year, although not quite so bad, no Elder is in 
flower at the date when I pen this (June 10). Poor Clare, in his Shepherd's 
Calendar , mentions a curious custom, as still existing at the termination of the 
Sheep-shearing at farm houses, and probably derived from long antiquity—when 
a damsel presents every shepherd who has been employed in the work with a 
bouquet of flowers—commonly called “clipping-posies.” As Clare mentions 
several flowers that appear in the selection, I shall quote his homely strain— 
“ And now, when shearing of the flocks is done, 
Some ancient customs, mix’d with harmless fun. 
Crown the swain’s merry toils. The timid maid 
Pleas’d to be prais’d, and yet of praise afraid. 
Seeks the best flowers; and those of woods and fields, 
But such as ev’ry farmer’s garden yields— 
Fine Cabbage Roses, painted like her face, 
The shining Pansy, trimm’d with golden lace ; 
The tall topp’d Larkspurs, feather’d thick with flowers, 
The Woodbine, climbing o’er the door in bowers; 
The London Tufts, of many a mottled hue, 
The pale pink Pea, and Monks-hood darkly blue; 
The white and purple Gilliflowers, that stay 
Ling’ring in blossom Summer halfaway; 
The single Blood-walls, of a luscious smell, 
