posed to be a vulgar mistake for the former. The French dedicate the herb to St. James, and call it "Fleur de St. Jacques." In some parts of North America it is boiled as an esculent.

The flowers of the lychnis tribe, the WILD WHITE CAMPION (lychnis alba dioica), and the ROSE CAMPION (lychnis diurna), have lost their bloom, but still show their downy stems, and ribbed leaves, and fluted lamp-shaped seed-vessels, denoted by the Greek etymology of their generic name, lychnis, a lamp (λuxvos). The white campion is more common in corn-fields than the pink, which more affects grass lands. Their sister, the RAGGED ROBIN, or cuckoo lychnis (lychnis flos cuculi), loves moist meadows and the sides of streams. Its popular name is derived from the jagged segments of its bright pink petals. The beauty of these three species has occasioned their introduction into gardens.

But the most admired of the lychnis family is the brilliant SCARLET LYCHNIS (lychnis Chalcedonica), that glows in our garden borders like a fire. Its ancient and appropriate name among botanists was flammea, or the flameflower. It was brought to Europe from the East by the Crusaders, who dedicated it to St. John, in memory of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. Hence it was popularly called by the French "the Cross of Jerusalem" (Croix de Jerusalem). The Spaniards gave it a similar name (Cruz de Jerusalem); the Italians termed it "the Cross of the Knights" (Croce di Cavallieri); the Portuguese name is "the Cross of Malta" (Cruz de Malta). Long before it was rendered popular by the Crusaders, however, it was known to the ancients, who, from the brilliancy of its colour, fabled that it sprung from the water in which Venus bathed. From its association with Venus, we will lay beside it a

What a pretty (but not common) corn-flower is the ADONIS FLOWER (Adonis autumnalis), with its dark-red petals, set off by their nearly black centre, from which it is often popularly called "pheasant's-eye." Another

popular name, alluding to its colour, is "red morocco." On account of its san

guine hue, the classic poets fabled that it sprang from a drop of the blood of Adonis, the favourite of Venus, when he was slain by the wild boar. Hence the French call it "the blood-drop" (goutte de sang), in memory of the death of the beloved Adonis. This flower was dedicated to Venus; and we may therefore associate with it a little allegory, of which the son of Venus, young Love himself, is the subject

THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF LOVE.

M. E. M.

Young Love lay pining, wasting, dying,

For grief that Hope, dear Hope was dead; Kindred and friends, their leechcraft trying, Stood anxiously around his bed. Honour the feeble pulses fainly

Would quicken-weaker grew they still; E'en Jealousy exerted, vainly,

To rouse the languid boy, her skill.

Time proffer'd aid-Love shrunk affrighted, "What, thou! insidious foe?" he cried; His closing eyes one last gleam lighted,

Then in the arms of Time he died. Nymphs, Graces, all departed weeping; Then sordid Interest subtly came To rob the dead, whose weapons keeping, He wields in Love's own garb and name.

Love's grave was dug amid a Ruin,

The shatter'd fane of Constancy; Variety, the task pursuing,

Wrought with quick hand and roving eye. Absence enshrouded Love, and bore him To slumber in Earth's quiet breast; Reason, in solemn robes, sung o'er him The dirge, then left him to his rest.

But oft, beneath the full moon's splendour,
When silence reigns at midnight deep,
One mourner comes-one true and tender-
At Love's lone grave to watch and weep.
A wreath of fadeless cypress bringing,
And emblem flow'rets-who is she,
A strain so soft, so pensive singing?
That mourner fond is Memory.

We sometimes, but rarely, find amid the corn a pretty little flower, long cherished in our gardens - VENUS's LOOKING-GLASS (campanula speculum), sometimes called the "corn pink." It is common in arable fields in France and Italy. The French call it la doucette, or "the little sweet one." Its purple flower is circular, the form of all ancient mirrors. The fiction of the old poets says, that Venus having one day dropped her mirror, it was found by a shepherd, who, looking in it, totally forgot the maiden to whom he had pledged his affections, and thenceforward admired only his own reflected image. Love, indignant with the vain and forgetful shepherd, snatched the mirror from his hands, and broke it to pieces; and from the fragments sprung the flower that bears its name. flower of Venus must have a stanza commemorative of the son of Venus:

EPIGRAM.

FROM THE GREEK OF EUBULUS.

The

The SHEPHERD'S NEEDLE (scandix pecten), whose small white flower is succeeded by a rounded seed-pouch, ending in a most disproportionably long needle-shaped point, was formerly dedicated to Venus by the name of "Venus's comb" (pecten Veneris). But English rustics, who cared nothing for the mythological goddess, attributed it to a bird familiar in their fields, the corn-crake (or rail), and named it "the crake-needle." Though but an annual, and very small, it is sometimes so abundant in the corn-fields as to be of serious injury. It is one of the few herbs which has never (as we believe) been applied to any use.

That pest of corn-fields where soil is poor or neglected the VIPER'S BUGLOSS (echium vulgare)—has flowers of a very beautiful blue; but the whole plant is so prickly, that even the invulnerable mouth of the ass refuses it. Having the stem spotted like a viper's skin, and the seed-vessels shaped like a viper's head, our forefathers conceived that its signatures (as the peculiar marks of herbs, &c., were called) pointed it out as a specific for the bites of venomous reptiles; nay, some old herbalists went the length of affirming that at the very sight of it vipers would flee away affrighted. The syrup of it was also said "to comfort the heart, and expel sadness and melancholy," the allegorical vipers of the mind.

YARROW (achillea millefolium), well known by its tufted white flowers, and its finely-cut feather-like leaves, is also called milfoil. We find it all along the paths in the fields, and on the tops of the ditches, and in many other places. It was long believed to cure all wounds inflicted by weapons made of iron; and was, therefore, called "knight's milfoil," and "soldier's woundwort." Classic tradition said Chiron the Centaur, famed for his skill in surgery and the knowledge of plants and herbs, taught its use to his illustrious pupil, Achilles. When the Greeks were on their march to besiege Troy, Telephus King of Mysia, refused them a passage through his dominions. In the contest that ensued, Achilles wounded Telephus with his spear; but a reconciliation being ef fected, he cured the wounded man with the herb, and with the rust of the

spear laid on the wound. Among the Highlanders, yarrow is still used to make a vulnerary ointment. Among emblematists it is a symbol of war.

It is still used among the peasants, both in Great Britain and Ireland, in lovers' divinations; believing that, after repeating a rude rhyme over it, the bending of its leaves will show whether the beloved object be in the east, west, north, or south. Among the superstitious in the middle ages, it was believed to be capable of giving the faculty of prediction, if pulled between the mid-finger and the thumb (but of which hand?) in the name of the Trinity, by a person, while kneeling on the right knee.

As yarrow is generally very abundant in churchyards, it was considered of old as a Lethal herb; and to dream of it was a presage of the death of some one very near or dear to the dreamer. Thus yarrow combines the attributes both of a martial and a funereal flower. We shall then assign, as its companion,

an

EPICEDIUM

On one interred in a Military Cemetery.

M. F. M.

I heard the blithe strains that I knew
Once sounded so sweetly to thee,
When the future seemed bright to thy view,
And the present was joyous and free.
I heard them, and thought of the days
When I saw thee in beauty's young bloom;
Alas! thou art lost to my gaze,

Thy relics are cold in the tomb.

But fair is the scene of thy rest

There laurels with cypresses wave; For Honour those precincts hath blest, Where thou sleep'st in the midst of the Brave.

There many a trophy gleams bright

O'er warriors that peacefully lie; Still comrades in death they unite,

And none but the valiant are nigh.

And oft-times sweet Echo is there,

She comes to waft music aroundThe drum's distant boom on the air,

The bugle's afar-swelling sound. They blend with the voice of the sea

That sighs round the isle's sandy verge, With the low murm'ring breeze- and for thee

They breathe as in chorus a dirge.

Pure spirit! though few were thy years,
Mature were thy mind and thy worth;
And bedew'd with the tenderest tears

Thy form was consigned to the earth.
But sweet is thy mem'ry;-we know
For thee it was blessed to die;
Thy dust is with heroes below,
Thy soul amid angels on high.

LARKSPUR (delphinium consolida) is sometimes, but not commonly, found wild in our corn-fields. Its botanic name, delphinium, is derived from the fancied resemblance of the flower before fully blown to a dolphin (delphinus) as popularly, but unnaturally, represented with a bowed back. Its common English name is derived from its long, spur-shaped nectary; whence the Germans call it ritter sporn, and the Spaniards espuela de caballero, both signifying knight's-spur. The Italians term it "speronella," or the little spur; and sometimes, on account of its stately erect stalk, fior regio, or the royal flower. Some English gardeners formerly called it the sceptre flower. Though rare in our fields, it is common among the corn in Switzerland, France, Spain, and Italy. The old herbalist Gerarde says, that its seeds are powerful against vipers.

The garden larkspur, formerly called delphinium Ajacis, is supposed by some to be the flower fabled to have sprung from the blood of Ajax Telamonius, when he stabbed himself from mortification and rage that the arms of Achilles were given to Ulysses instead of to him. The flower that commemorated him was said to have markings resembling the letters A. I. A., designating his name; and the larkspur of the garden shows in its interior dark spots that may be construed by fancy into something of the kind. Virgil, in his third Eclogue, makes one of his rustics ask another, in what country do the flowers grow that are inscribed with the names of kings?

"Dic quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum Nascantur flores ?"

Some explain these flowers to be the larkspur with its interior inscription; others, martagon lilies with their dark spots; and others again, the hyacinths, which, however, have no markings. On account of the as

sociation between the dark blue larkspur and the baffled wishes of Ajax, symbolists have sometimes adopted the flower as the emblem of thwarted hopes.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

ADAPTED FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF SA DE

SOTOMAYOR.*

("Faz o tempo hum breve ensayo

Do bem que em nacendo morre.")

Time gave me once a bliss to know,
That e'en when newly born was dying;
Frail as a bubble's airy show,

Swift as the summer lightning flying.

That time, that bliss, they both are gone, And I must live so lonely-hearted; While Memory fondly muses on

The parted past-because departed.

But ere the past had fled, while yet
From Fate the short-liv'd boon possessing,
Then did my soul all else forget,
Absorb'd alone in that sole blessing.

Time and that Good-in-ill combine To teach me lessons once rejected; I called the joys I had not, mine, And those I had, forgot, neglected.

The lovely little PIMPERNEL (anagalis arvensis) has theGreek etymology of its name from avayıλaw, for a very fanciful reason-" because making to laugh by its efficacy in removing obstructions of the spleen." There is only one British species known, and that varies in colours scarlet, blue, and white. The scarlet pimpernel is the flower of the corn-fields; the white is frequent in meadows; the blue (which is very beautiful) in marshy grounds it is the most rare of the three. The scarlet pimpernel is called the poor man's weather-glass, because it invariably keeps its blossoms closed in the morning at the approach of rain. When haymakers or reapers go to their work, if they see the pimpernel open, they expect a fine day. It is also called" the poor man's clock," because, however bright be the sun, it shuts exactly at noon; thus indicating the hour when the hard-working har vester may lie down in the shade, and recruit his wasted strength with the refreshment of a short slumber.

And now, lest the reader be growing over-wearied with our gleanings, we

TURENNE may be considered one of the most skilful generals of modern times, and ranks with Gustavus Adolphus, Marlborough, Frederick of Prussia, Napoleon, and Wellington. He was not always victorious, but his reputation sustained no blemish by the defeats of Mariendahl and Rhétel. No one attempts to deny the abilities of Hannibal because his army fought badly at Zama, and suffered their renowned commander to be beaten. Neither does the discomfiture of Napoleon at Leipzic and Waterloo diminish the early glories of Marengo, Austerlitz, and Jena. Turenne was a profound tactician. He treated war as a complicated science, and trusted more to strategy than force. It was remarked of him, as a singularity, that he was cautious in youth and manhood, and became enterprising as he advanced to age. His system had been carefully studied by Marlborough and Eugene, who afterwards conducted long wars and won many victories by a steady adherence to his rules and maxims. His death happened at a

critical moment, and set aside a great impending battle, which would have decided the question of relative superiority between him and Montecuculi. Forty-three years before, another problem of rival genius was solved on the plains of Lutzen, when the star of Wallenstein paled before that of the Swedish monarch, and the latter won and consecrated his triumph by a glorious death. Otho Venius, the master of Rubens, published a book on the resemblance of the countenances of men to those of animals. Turenne's was ever likened to that of a lion. The bravery, magnanimity, and generosity of the king of beasts, he possessed in an eminent degree. Only two blemishes have ever been detected in his character the ravages which he permitted his troops to commit in the Palatinate, and his apostasy in religion. His apologists say that the first proceeded from necessity, the second from conviction. He himself in his reply to the reproaches of the Elector, who taxed him with ingratitude for having burnt and ravaged the very country

VOL. XLIV. NO. CCLXII.

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