"Oh, who that has an eye to see,
A heart to feel, a tongue to bless,
Can ever undelighted be,

With Nature's magic loveliness!" MANY corn-fields are yet unreaped, and there is something indescribably pleasing in their aspect at the commencement of the autumnal season. Flowers of various descriptions are everywhere conspicuous; some (like the scandix peclen, or common shepherd's needle, with its small white petals, and long graceful tubes, or the heart'sease (viola tricolor), a low growing yellowish white species, which hide beneath the arching grain) must be carefully sought for in their lowly birth-places; others lift up their heads, and beautifully diversify the rich brown rustling surface of the field; such is the convolvulus arvensis, or small bind-weed, which twines around the stalks, like the thyrsus of living green; her lot is humble, and she has not to bear the sternness of wintry storms, therefore she is not defended with a strong cuticle; but her leaves are slight and fragile, and her petals sometimes of a yellow hue, but more frequently pink, varied with white plaits; and he who passes by, often lingers to observe her symmetry and beauty. Lovely indeed she is, as I once observed elsewhere, and the botanist may recount concerning her, that she has an assigned duty which no other flower could fulfil. One day comprises her short life; but in that one day no work which she has to do is left undone, and wonderfully is she constructed for the doing of that work. Her trumpet-shaped corollas, tiny though they be when compared with the large dazzling white flowers of her relative-the favourite of St. Pierre, are designed to reflect the rays of the sun, and, like highly polished mirrors directed to one focus, convey as much heat as possible to the interior. Those who are interested in the admirable arrangement of the vegetable world, may discern by this simple token that the small convolvulus is designed to grow in open and wind-haunted places, or beneath the shade of taller vegetable forms. She is endowed also with an instinctive motion, by which she is enabled to rise from her humble or thickly tangled place of growth, by twining around the stems of neighbouring plants; and in thus effecting her exit, her spiral stems turn uniformly from west to southwest; others, on the contrary, perform the same movement from east to west. Such natural indications prove unerring guides to travellers when journeying through pathless solitudes.

A matin flower is this same wild convolvulusdisplaying her small trumpet when the sun arises, and putting it aside as no longer needful when evening draws in: hinting-it may be in unison with many a wayside weed that open and close their petals at stated seasons, with the matin and even-songs of grateful birds-concerning duties which some unhappily forget, and others but carelessly fulfil. A hospitable flower, too, is she, and winged insects are her guests: a loving plant, methinks, for I have seen her in company with her meek sisters, mantling the graves of lowly ones yet not in a village churchyard, where the pure air of sheaven comes and goes, and bright sun beams gladden the lone spot, but in a burying

ground contiguous to a poor-house, and that in the neighbourhood of London, beside a dusty public road. Beautiful were they in that strange and uninviting place; many stayed their steps to look upon them, and thought perchance of far off village commons, and bordering corn-fields, where they had first gathered the small convolvulus.

The purplish red corn-cockle (agrostemma githago), which derives a generic name from two Greek words, signifying a field, and coronet, is likewise trumpet-shaped, and rises to the height of two or three feet; nor less conspicuous is the red campion or campion-cuckoo flower (lychnis dioica), signifying a lamp, in allusion to the flamecoloured and flickering petals; or as some conjecture, from a fanciful resemblance of the semitransparent calyx to a lantern. Different species of the lychnis produce double flowers, either red or white, and are therefore often sought for by the florist. But wherever growing, whether among corn or pastures, or fallow fields, or springing from the fissures of rocks, as those of Craig Breiddin, in Montgomeryshire, or beside streams of water, they are objects of no ordinary interest, from the brightness or extreme delicacy of their deeply cloven petals.

The scabiosa arvensis, or field scabious, is one of my favourite plants; her delicate blue, or bluish lilac, or even white globular head, formed of numerous florets, with white taper bristles appended to each, look well among the waving ears of corn. Unlike her sable tinted sister, the mourning widow, or musk button, which St. Pierre describes in his story of "Paul and Virginia," the species to which I refer presents a cheerful aspect, and no other plant is more frequently resorted to by gay-coated insects and bright butterflies, that find a restingplace on the tufted florets, and close and open their wings in the warm sunbeams. The cyanus, corn-flower, hurt-sickle or blue-bonnet, (centaurea cyanus,) often grows beside the scabious; they delight in the same locality, but the cyanus is best known, and most beloved of poets:

"There is a flower, a purple flower,

Sown by the wind, nursed by the shower,
O'er which Love breathed a powerful spell,
The truth of whispering hope to tell.
Now, gentle flower, I pray thee tell,
If my lover loves me, and loves me well:
So may the fall of the morning dew

Keep the sun from fading thy tender blue." This beauteous flower was named Cyanus after a youthful devotee of Flora, who made garlands for public festivities with different kinds of wild flowers, and who often lingered from morning till evening among the corn, weaving such as she col lected, and singing the sweetest strains of her father-land.

What an exquisite coronet of sky-blue florets is conspicuous in the cyanus! every floret is a fairyvase, that holds forth a rich nectarious juice to thirsty insects. And when each vase, having fulfilled its appointed purpose, is laid aside, beautiful green cradles become developed, as if by enchantment, containing little winged children, which the zephyrs delight to rock! These winged children are often peculiarly beautiful: their small pinions are elegantly variegated at the base, and adorned with the most delicate jet black feathers, which to the unassisted eye appear only like minute hairs, and yet are perfect feathers of the most exquisite de scription. They presently fly abroad, bearing with

them seeds of equal rarity, with one minute groove fitted to another, and having a finished and elaborate mechanism whereby to facilitate the purpose for which they are designed. Elizabeth Rowe loved the cyanus: that gifted Woman who sought for it in her girlhood days, and obtained from the expressed juice a lasting transparent colour, little inferior to ultramarine, wherewith to paint some of her choicest flowers. And truly, as wrote the elegant author of The Philosophy of Nature, there was scarcely a flower, or an insect, or a bird, that grew, or crept, or sung, in her garden, but yielded a source of pleasure. And so it will ever be if our minds are attuned aright, and we regard the universe as the temple of Him who fills all space, in which, as from one great altar, the incense of thanksgiving continually ascends.

Surely one might linger the whole day in a cornfield thus varied with flowers of all hues, from the bright corn marigold, or yellow ox-eye, to the pale tinted heart's-ease. "Mannour-courts do amerse careless tenants who do not weed out the former of these plants before it comes to seed," said good Master Threlkeld in the book which he compiled, "concerning things fitting to be known nearly two hundred years since." Wherefore? Because the yellow ox-eye (chrysanthemum segetum) is extremely troublesome in the places of its sojourn, and difficult to eradicate. The farmer looks with a dissatisfied scowl over his field wherein this brilliant plant has fixed its abode. Not so the naturalist, and the lover of scenery; nor yet the moralist: the one acknowledges in his favourite corn-marigold a memorial plant, whose yellow flowers, following the sun with untiring diligence, teach him to look upwards with the eye of faith; the other, in the brilliancy which is imparted to fields in tillage, the effect that is frequently produced, by means apparently inadequate; while the naturalist recognises a peculiarity of construction, which enables the marigold equally to sustain the heat of the summer solstice, and the chill night winds of the waning year.

Saw you never, in cloudy and windy weather, with intervals of scorching sunbeams, when grain of every description ripens fast, some field on the slope of a hill side of the most brilliant hue, as if the sun shone there exclusively-a lovely object amid the duskiness of other fields, darkened with cloud shadows? That effect is produced by innumerable marigolds suffered to remain unmolested, or which have sprung up among the tender wheat, and from whence they could hardly be withdrawn. The common mustard (sinapis nigra) also occasionally imparts somewhat of a similar appearance, being at least a foot and a half in height, and lifting its pale yellow petals to the full influence of air and light. It is, perhaps, scarcely necessary to observe, that the seeds, reduced to powder, make the common mustard; that they yield a considerable quantity of expressed oil, which partakes but little of the acrimony of the plant; and lastly, that cataplasms, formed with crumbs of bread, vinegar, and powdered mustardseed, are commonly applied as stimulants when required. All this is, perhaps, well known, but not the whimsical history attached to the name of this useful plant, which is as follows:-Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, who lived towards the end of the fourteenth century, granted the town of Dijon armorial ensigns, with the motto, "Moult

me tarde," which signifies, "I long, or wish ardently," and which, doubtless, had reference to some ungratified desire either of the duke or townsmen. However this might be, the arms and motto being sculptured over the principal gate, the middle word became effaced by some accident, and the merchant dealers in common sinapis seed, intending to adorn their mustard-pots with labels of the city arms, copied the imperfect motto as it then remained, "Moult tarde," and hence the name of sinapis was changed into that of mustard, which it retains to the present day.

YELLOW GOAT'S-BEARD, SCARLET PIMPERNEL.

from two Greek words, a goat and a beard, which The yellow goat's-beard (tragopogon), derived the down of the seed somewhat resembles, and pratensis, its specific name, is abundant in cornfields, with the T. parvifolius, of which the roots are esculent, and when cultivated in kitchen garBoth these species uniformly open early in the.. dens for boiling or stewing, are called salsafy. morning, and close their petals about twelve o'clock, they are consequently best known by the familiar appellation of "Go to bed at noon;" and thus has a Dutch poet described the methodical favourite plants:life of a tulip merchant, in allusion to these

folding their petals at an allotted time, and of closing them again, and that most frequently before the sun declines from the meridian, must be ascribed to an admirable arrangement of spiral fibres. Linnæus noticed this wonderful effect when in search of plants among the solitudes of Lapland, and he gave to all such flowers the appellation of solares; but it remained for modern botanists, among whom the name of Ibbitson is conspicuous, to ascertain the cause for such an extraordinary deviation from the laws of nature.

Spiral fibres must, therefore, be briefly noticed, that our young friends may examine the subject for themselves when they go forth into the fields during this pleasant month, and observe that while some flowers spread abroad their petals at noonday, others are beginning to enfold them. These fibres appear like fine cork-screw threads of a firmer texture than the adjacent parts, and are readily distinguished by carefully drawing asunder either a stem or leaf-stalk. In some small specimens, such as the pimpernel, they are scarcely perceptible; in larger species they present an elegantly formed spiral, but in both they become firm and rigid when no longer required. By their ministry all the operations of vegetable life that bear expressly on motion are produced; flowers open in the morning, and close at night; leaves turn to the air and light, and a most beautiful effect is occasioned by the quivering of foliage in the wind: creeping plants also twine in their respective order, some, as already noticed, towards the west, others eastward. Heat and a strong light, in the first and second instance, produce a contraction of the spiral wires, and the slightest diminution of either, though unperceived by a looker-on, causes them to contract. Their form and position is likewise all important with regard to such flowers as remain expanded till eventide; by their agency the petals either shut or unfoldas in mechanics, the same spring may be made to turn to the right or left, in order to open or close a box.

The sweet and nutritious roots of the yellow goat's-beard, if cut before the stems rise up, and boiled like asparagus, have nearly the same flavour: while those of the strong scented lettuce (lactuca virosa), which often grows beside it, yields an acrid and bitter juice that resembles opium, and possesses its narcotic qualities. An ancient poet, therefore, fabled that Venus, when inconsolable for the loss of Adonis, threw herself on a bed of wild lettuces growing among classic shades, in the hope of obtaining sleep. The milky juice, when exuding in hot weather through the pores of the stem and leaves, is sufficiently tenacious to detain ants, and other small insects; and even in cloudy weather it is so exuberant as to ooze forth upon the touch of their light feet. Withering conjectures that its narcotic quality may sensibly affect the little wanderers, and incline them to sleep. One species, however, derives both food and shelter from the strong scented lettuce; this is the tiny Livia lactuce, which journeys in and out unharmed either by the trap-like juice, or the overpowering scent. Thus admirably are all created beings adapted for the places to which they are assigned; but why so great a difference should be discoverable between two neighbour plants, rooted in the same soil, shone upon by the same warm sunbeams, and fertilized by the same showers, is a problem that none may solve. These

effects can alone be referred to the agency of a vital principle, though this all-pervading agency cannot explain them to our understanding; they are necessarily the result of chemical depositions and combinations, but we know not what these depositions and combinations are, nor yet the exciting causes, nor the laws that produce and regulate them. The root of the goat's-beard, in which the nutritious qualities are especially developed, is well deserving of brief notice. It is formed on the principle of a wedge, and penetrates readily into the earth; that of the wild lettuce, though somewhat similar, is also fibrous; each has an especial reference to the habits of the respective plant, and each have within them strongly coated vessels, by which they derive moisture from the earth.

The opening and closing of all flowers is consequently owing to internal mechanism of the most exquisite description, varying in different species, and, perhaps, somewhat more complex in such as the yellow goat's-beard, and strong scented lettuce, time-pieces of Nature's making-which the weary ploughman often leaves his horses to look upon, and harvest men love to sit beside when they rest from their work at noon.

Linnæus formed from such flowers an Horolo gium Flora, or botanical clock. We recommend our young friends to occupy some of their leisure hours in the same way; taking note of different species which open at fixed times, and sketching them from nature; they will find, most probably, sufficient for their purpose on the borders of cornfields, and sunny banks. Thus beautifully has Mrs. Hemans referred to the botanical clock, above mentioned, and which is pleasingly associ ated with the memory of the Swedish naturalist:"Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours, As they floated in light away; By the opening and the folding flowers, That laugh to the summer's day.

"Thus has each moment its own rich hue,
And its graceful cup or bell,

In whose colour'd vase might sleep the dew,
Like a pearl, in an ocean shell.

"To such sweet signs might the time have flow'd,
In a glorious current on,

Ere from the garden, Man's first abode,
The glorious guests were gone.

"Yet is not life, in its real flight,

Mark'd thus-even thus-on earth,
By the closing of one hope's delight,
And another's gentle birth?

"Oh! let us live, so that flower by flower,
Shutting in turn may leave

A lingerer still for the sunset hour,
A charm for the faded eve."

Very dissimilar from that of the goat's-beard, is the fibrous root of the elegantly formed and slender agrimonia eupatoria, or common agrimony, generally found in corn-fields, and producing a graceful effect with its long terminating bunc es of fine yellow flowers. This plant has also a specific use; the Canadians find an infusion of the leaves and flowers invaluable in burning fevers; it is ikewise noticed as a specific for the jaundice. The bladder campion, or spatling poppy (silene inflata), is associated neither with historic nor traditional remembrances, and yet among such flowers as diversify a corn-field, what plant more singular in its construction or more deserving of close inspec tion! The calyx is purely white, and tastefully