THE QIJEEN OF MAT. 
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name for this fragrant blossom, have called it May, 
after one of the pleasantest months in the whole 
year ; for to them that word conjured up the season 
of poetry—the month of flowers, and was fraught 
with associations of all that is bright and beautiful 
in the earth: for there are but few objects that 
strike the eye with greater delight than the rural 
hedgerows which stretch for miles throughout our 
country, and are at the close of spring flushed 
over with the pink-white blossoms of May. In the 
olden time our ancestors did homage to this season 
of flowers, and went out with songs and music to 
“ bring home May.” They erected arbours of green 
branches, they selected a beautiful maiden and 
crowned her Queen of May, they placed her upon 
a throne of flowers, they wreathed her brow with 
blossoms, and danced around her, and they hung 
the tall tapering Maypole with gay garlands of 
variegated colours. Even kings and queens left 
their palaces, the proud baron rode out from under 
the dark-browed archway of his feudal castle, the 
fair lady deserted her bower, and the brave knight, 
with his plumes dancing in the wind, mounted on 
his prancing war-horse, rode beside the white palfrey 
of his lady-love, and so they went forth, throwing 
their titles and dignities for once aside, to “ do 
observance to the May.” Through green winding 
lanes, and the bridle-paths of old hoary forests, the 
