localities one colour prevails almost to the exclusion of the others; in some localities all the three grow amicably together in nearly equal proportions. Here too grows that modest little flower the eye-bright (Euphrasia officinalis), with its semi-rigid stems, short leaves and its small white flowers, tinged with yellow at the bottom of the corolla, and streaked with purple. There is much of poetry in this little flower. "Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous, But not less in the bright flowerets under us "Bright and glorious is that revelation In these stars of earth-these golden flowers. "In all places, then, and in all seasons, Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, "And with child-like, credulous affection, LONGFELLOW. JUNE IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF LONDON. To a large proportion of the two millions of inhabitants of London it matters little that there are fine things to be seen in Scotland, at the Lakes, or in Devonshire, for they have never been there, and are not likely to go there. Many visit Hampton Court who have never been to Holyrood, and Gravesend is visited by thousands who have never been to Greenock, and have, perhaps, no clear conception where it is. It is always tantalising to read glowing descriptions of something we have never seen, and though at times such descriptions are read by persons in whose hearts they vibrate a chord which carries them, sooner or later, to visit the much-loved spot, yet, with the many, descriptions are only interesting to us in proportion as we know the scenes and objects described; then, they recall to our minds our own impressions when we visited the same places, and with that recollection comes, G more or less vividly, all the pleasures which we had met with there. Hence books of travels are far more interesting to those who have travelled in the same or similar countries than to those who have always stayed at home, although the latter might be assumed to be better pleased by obtaining information concerning matters on which at present they are ignorant. But much of what they read is unintelligible to those who have had no experience of the objects treated of, because "the eyes of the understanding" have not been opened. London itself on a bright day in June is seen to the best advantage; the smoke (the curse of London) is then at its minimum; the bright cheering aspect of all nature penetrates even into town; the trees in all the squares are at their greenest; the parks are green under foot (not burnt up as they may be in August) and green overhead, and the feathered songsters give further animation to the scene. At the same time London is not empty, the busiest season of the legislature and the fashionable world is now on, trade is brisk, and all sorts of exhibitions are thronged by pleasure-hunters. Granted that London is not so pleasant in June as the country, yet Lon don in June is more enjoyable than in any other month in the year. Richmond will always be a favourite place of resort for "Cockneys," wishing to emerge but for a few hours from the smoke of London: the river there is not the same river we have in London. Geographers may prove to us mathematically that it is and must be the same, but those gifted with eyesight and the sense of smell will not be so easily imposed upon as to believe that clear water and a brown liquid like weak gravysoup are the same thing. Of course each visitor to Richmond ascends the hill, takes a few turns on the terrace, and then, entering the park, proceeds along that path where an aged oak bears a quotation from Thomson's Seasons. How many, many thousands have stood on that spot, looking over the vast sea of trees below, and watching the serpentine course of the river flowing round Twickenham meadows. There is something perfectly overwhelming in the reflection, that where we are standing so many have stood before; at what we are looking so many have looked before, yet with what varied emotions! How few, if each were to write down the thoughts that filled his soul as he gazed on the leafy expanse below, would be found to have formed the same ideas. Yet the graver, more reflecting portion of those who stand upon this spot, probably think more frequently of one idea than of any other that more than a hundred years ago people came from London to gaze on that view as they do now, that each one felt for the time some yearnings of his better self as he drank in with his eyes the rich and varied aspect of nature, yet how did each profit by these emotions, and where is each now? The question is not unimportant, because it admits of a direct application to ourselves. Many there are who wish to improve: let each one who has visited Richmond Hill reflect on the constancy, or otherwise, of the feelings which that lovely scene called forth within him; and when he again revisits the place, and stands beneath the "Seasons" tree, let him note to what extent he has improved himself since his last visit there. But away, let us hasten down the hill, and over the bridge, and thence past Twickenham to Bushy Park; but we are rather too late to see this in its glory, we should have been here a week or ten days ago to have seen the horse-chestnuts in full blossom-the whole length of that magnificent avenue all in a blaze of life and light at once. In cold and backward seasons it will |