239 
The Fern I have drawn, and hitherto alluded to, is a very 
common kind; but many of our native Ferns are very 
diminutive, rare, and flourish only in peculiar situations. 
The singular one called Maiden-hair, may often be found 
on ruins; and old stone walls are frequently very productive 
of other small kinds. The curiously coiled up ball in which 
the Fern first springs from the ground, and its gi'adual 
gi’owth and expansion, are among some of Nature’s most 
interesting phenomena. I well remember the exti’eme de¬ 
light with which I first examined one of the rough brown 
knobs, when told that it contained the gi'aceful leaves of the 
j)lant I loved so much. 
The “ little darling” Mignonette is too familiar and dear 
a friend to need a formal introduction to any company in 
which we may chance to find her. Her homes are as 
various as ours who cherish her. From the royal garden, 
the stately terrace, or the boudoir-balcony, to the small 
flower-bed of the cottager,—and the naiTOw, dark, patched 
window of the poor town artisan, where an old broken jar, 
or rough box holds the petted plant,—we find Mignonette 
an unfailing guest. And right worthy is her modest form 
and exquisite fiagi'ance of such universal love. 
Shelley alludes to it in these few sweet lines “To E. V.”— 
Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me 
Sweet basil and mignonette; 
Embleming Love and Health, which never yet 
In the same w'reath might be. 
Alas, and they are wet! 
Is it witli thy kisses or thy tears ? 
