the first of these, and we did not much regret it, for, though very beautiful when closely examined, it is too stiff and formal for a bouquet. The water almost poured from its leaves and flowers, especially from the former, for the first two or three hours after it had been placed in water. Other flowers which had this habit in a great degree were the large garden antirrhinum and the heliotrope. But the strongest instance of all was the violet. One of the great pleasures of the spring is violet-hunting; and many are the lamentations uttered every year over banks new made, hedges replanted, and ditches drained; indeed, we fear there will be no wild violets left for our greatgrandchildren. But will not English Botany be then a forgotten, or at least a defunct, science? The railroad is cutting up all bye-places and snug nooks, careless of the rare plants which it disturbs; and even if some loving hand find a fresh locality for its treasures, it is very uncertain whether they will thrive in their new home. A lamentation has just | been made to us, that the most prolific station mentioned by Hooker for the Teucrium Chamadrys is entirely broken up, and what is to be done? The plant will thrive only on old walls, and people will renew and build up these places; everything is new now in these days of improvement; and if we plant | a root in a proper situation, it will soon be lost again. We must take it to a ruined church we sometimes visit, which is now roofless, steepleless, and surrounded by corn stacks; the only tomb-stone which is left bearing indisputable marks of having been used as a spot convenient for a bird-trap. And this stone two hundred years since was placed over the remains of a "Citizen of London," a member of the Staticners' Company, and the eldest son of a knight, who resided at the noble old hall close by, whose venerable avenue, twisted chimneys, and ornamented gables, still testify the taste of its former owner; while the long and lofty barn, with its loop-hole windows and flint walls, gives us reason to think that the whole domain was anciently connected with the monastic appearances, the antique summer-house, and the still famed well of St. Wolfstan which we find just across the river; that river the "glorious" pike of which have afforded us so much amusement in catching. We may have more to say of the ruined church when we have planted our Germander, and caught our pike this year. But thus are our English plants lost. Now to return to our bouquet. In one of our spring walks we gathered our little basket half full of violets, and having carefully pulled off every flower before we planted the roots, we arranged them in a couple of wine-glasses, without any leaves, or any other flowers. In half an hour the glasses stood in water. We had the spot wiped dry, but again it became wet; and thus till the water stood but just high enough in the glasses to touch the stalks. This very striking occurrence led us to watch our bouquet through the summer, and we found many flowers which caused the same untidiness; but we might probably have forgotten all about it till next spring, as we have forgotten many of the flowers, had not we accidentally met with something like a solution of the enigma in our searchings after botanical explained to those who have not studied this interesting science: we simplify some of the terms. "The property consists in this, that certain plants, by means of their external envelope, draw up the surrounding water on the surface of the stem, and distribute it to the neighbouring parts, the petioles (leaf-stalks) and leaves, from the ends of which the accumulated fluid falls drop by drop. A stalk of Urtica dioica (great nettle) was cut off smoothly, above and below, leaving only two leaves on the separated portion; this was placed in water so that the petioles formed an angle of 30° to 40° with the surface of the water, whilst the stem itself was at right angles. The water passed upwards in the grooves in the upper surface of the petioles, followed the ribs of the leaves, and then dropped from the points of the leaves. In the Urtica urens (small nettle) the process was not so successful; the water expanded over the surface of the leaf, and there disappeared without dropping. A still greater capillary action was observed in Ballota nigra (black horehound), in which the water not only passed upwards in the footstalk and the leaf, but also in the grooves of the stem itself; but both Urtica and Ballota were exceeded in capillary activity by a syngenesious plant, which the author took to be Ageratum cæruleum (of our gardens) both in rapidity of transmission, and in the amount of the ascending fluid. Physalis alkekengi (winter cherry) also exhibited the same capillary power, but for a short time only. Chiropodium vulgare (wild basil) and Betonica stricta (not an English plant) exhibited a feeble capillarity, as did Galeobdolon and Galeopsis." The author accounts for this phenomenon by saying that as the hairs on the stems and leafstalks of these plants are thickly set and curve towards each other, they form narrow tubes, as it were, through which the water is drawn up and transmitted to the leaves, when, as we have seen, it flows along the grooves of the ribs to the end. A reason is assigned for the cessation of the dropping in the swelling of the vessels of the stem and petiole, by which the hairs are forced farther from each other, and the power of capillary conveyance of the water is lost. Some curious remarks are also given upon the dropping from the ends of the leaves of that noble plant, Calla Ethiopica; observation has shown that light has no perceptible influence on this dropping from the leaves; that the excretion was feeblest in the morning; increased towards noon; was most copious in the afternoon from two to five P.M., and declined again during the night. The dropping seems to arise from an excess of moisture beyond that which is requisite for the nourishment of the plant; and it ceases with the development of the spathe and organs of reproduction. The necessity of the plant for water was greatest during the night, but especially on the development of the spathe." A secretion of watery fluid likewise takes place in Canna (Indian shot); not from the points of the leaves as in Calla, but from the ends of the parallel ribs which terminate at the margin of the leaf; and generally more from those that are nearer to the end of the leaf, than from those which are situated nearer to its base. From these terminations, towards evening and at night, imperceptibly exudes a clear watery fluid, which collects in drops, sometimes, but rarely, in as large a quantity as from the Calla. This excretion does not seem affected by temperature; it is promoted by the growth of the leaves, but ceases when the plant puts forth stalks and flowers. LUCENTIO AND BIANCA. Bian. Where left we last? Bian. Hac ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus ; Construe them. Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before,-Simois, I am Lucentio, hic est, son unto Vincentio, of Pisa,―Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love;-Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing,-Priami, is my man Tranio,-regia, bearing my port,-celsa senis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon.-7'aming of the Shrew, Act iii. Scene 1. We must observe that both these are water plants, and it does not appear at all probable that an apparatus should be provided merely to imbibe and give forth again more fluid than is required for nourishment; this is not accordant with the economy of nature, where nothing is wasted. The fluid thus expelled may be those parts of the water which are not necessary to the nourishment of the leaves, and therefore thrown off after a kind of digestive process has been undergone; while the cessation of the excretion as soon as the plant puts forth flowers, shows that it is in some manner necessary to fructification. The food which a plant receives probably undergoes some kind of decomposition in its passage through the stem; but it is principally in the leaves that it is altered; and the fluid of which we are speaking may belong to the colouring matter of the petals, or to other parts of the perfect plant, for which it is not at present required. But although we cannot exactly decide this, we may be certain that it is neither accidental nor useless. The Nepenthes dis-ness. "There is to me a charm about her which I tillatoria is well known for its abundant secretion of fluid; the flower is colourless; and the leaves are generally half filled with water. All fluids in a plant have motion, and their constant perspiration proves the rapidity with which the sap circulates; if a glass be placed under a young vine leaf, in a hot day, it will soon be covered with dew, which in less than an hour will run down in streams. Evergreens perspire less than deciduous or herbaceous plants, partly because their outer skin is comparatively thick and hard. Some curious experiments have shown the circulation of the fluids in plants and flowers; we have been much interested in watching violets in a glass of ammonia and water; they become almost green. White roses have been coloured with red veins, while other flowers entirely refused to imbibe the colouring matter. To the circulation of the sap are also to be attributed the instances, of which we so frequently read, of foreign substances being found in trees, and even in vegetables. As respects the capillary attraction which takes place with cut flowers, the hairs upon the stems and stipules of plants are doubtless of some use; they may be a protection against heat and cold, or against the attacks of insects; besides which, they often contain the odoriferous oil peculiar to the plant. Their capillary action is merely the effect of a known law, under circumstances not natural to them. The flowers in which we observed this action the most copiously are those which grow in a cluster, each floret having a separate calyx, probably as hairy as the petioles and stipules, therefore conveying water in the same manner. In the case of the violets there might be accessory circumstances. No doubt the action took place in the calyx, as, many of the stalks being extremely short, the glasses were filled with water to the brim. Besides this, the stalks themselves would act by capillary attraction, and raise the water to the edge of the glass, as may be seen by floating a teaspoon in a cup of tea; and still more plainly in a coloured glass of flowers, where each stalk raises the water between itself and the side of the vase to a higher level than it stands at in the centre. We recommend our young admirers of flowers to study them, not in the greenhouse and the garden, but in their native homes, the fields and woods, assuring those who do so that the study of botany well repays the trouble it costs. F.C. B. THE MAIDEN AUNT.-No. V.1 As they walked home Edith began to express her warm admiration of Alice Brown's unobtrusive good cannot define," said she; "plain and shy as she is, "You don't like her!" exclaimed Edith, with an air of disappointment. "Oh yes!" replied her friend, hurriedly, and in a low faltering voice; the next moment she withdrew her arm from the clasp of the wondering Edith, put her hands before her face, and began to weep bitterly. Edith was greatly shocked, she did not like to inquire the reason of a grief so unexpected and so overpowering, but walked on in sympathizing silence. Amy's usual self-command seemed to have completely deserted her; her tears flowed fast and long without restraint. At length she snatched her handkerchief from her eyes with a gesture of impatience and began to pluck the clematis from the hedges beside which they were walking. "It is very graceful, is it not?" said she, with assumed levity holding up a branch and twisting it into a garland; "it would make a lovely wreath for the hair, I think it would suit you exactly. Do take off your bonnet, Edith, and let me try-I like to exercise my genius upon your toilette,-you do me such credit." Her hand was upon Edith's bonnet-strings as she spoke, but she was not suffered to execute her scheme. My dear Amy, everybody would think we were mad. Wait till we are at home." "At home!-oh, true, we are not at home yet," repeated Amy, looking around her as if she had only just noticed the circumstance; "we shall be at home when we are at Beechwood. It will be wiser to wait (1) Continued from p. 134. certainly--more in accordance with etiquette, and sins against etiquette, you know, are unpardonable, especially in women. We may break the laws of God as often as we please, and we may evade the laws of man, provided we do it cunningly, without fear of losing caste; but the laws of society are sacred, and the woman who neglects them is sentenced ere the crime be consummated. What a nice thing it is to have a number of pretty little conventional channels for the feelings, where they may play about safely and do nobody any harm-only it's a pity they are so shallow-it's bad policy, you see, for a strong current sweeps them all away in an instant. Did you think I was crying just now?" Edith's distressed silence answered for her. "Oh, don't deny it," pursued Amy, in the same tone; "I am sure you did, you looked so frightened. My dear child, I was only tricking you. What should I find to cry about, unless I were like a baby and cried for the moon? I have everything in the world to make me happy—plenty of money, perfect liberty, enough admiration to keep me always in good humour, a happy home-no, a comfortable home, that's the word-a comfortable home and a good husband: the last are the two grand essentials, don't you think so, Edith?" what to say. How lovely Beechwood is looking!" returned Edith, who was painfully embarrassed, and knew not They were just passing the park gate. "Yes, beautiful!" cried Amy, stopping short, and looking up at the cool dark blue sky through the crevices in the golden foliage. Look there!" she added, "there is a new kind of garden roller which Mr. Dalton invented; it took him a whole vacation to bring it to perfection; and he was so much interested in it, that he used to lie awake at nights, and | mutter dark sentences concerning it when he dropped asleep. Presently he will take out a patent for it, and be henceforth known as the inventor of the improved garden roller- he will rank among the master-spirits of the age and the benefactors of posterity. Is it not a proud distinction for me to shine in the reflection of such a light?" "Amy! Amy!" exclaimed Edith, in a supplicating voice, "forgive me, but indeed this is not right—it makes me unhappy to listen to you." "Nay but, Edith," persisted Mrs. Dalton, "this is not fair, I am naturally ambitious, and I am trying to induce my ambition to feed upon the only kind of nourishment it can get. Fame is fame, you know, and the source from which it springs can be of very little consequence. Nothing is valuable in itself; it is only as we choose to think highly or lowly of it that it rises or falls. I don't see why Mr. Dalton's new roller should not be as grand a creation to him as Lichfield Cathedral was to the architect who imagined it. And if to him, of course to me-that follows, you know. Quand on n'a pas ce qu'on aime, il faut aimer ce qu'on a,—that is true philosophy." "And like all philosophy," said Edith, making a strong effort to change the subject, "it is very well to talk about, and quite impossible to do. Mr. Thornton would laugh at me for the elegant phraseology in which I am clothing my ideas; would he not? By the bye, how kind it was of him to remember poor Alice Brown! I should not have expected it of him; it was a quiet, unpretending little piece of benevolence which I should have thought his far-gazing eyes likely to overlook." "Ah, you don't do him justice," replied Mrs. Dalton; "he has an excellent heart." "But an excellent heart does not always teach one to do right," observed Edith. Mrs. Dalton was silent and seemed scarcely to hear the remark. Edith went on talking, almost breathlessly, to prevent the renewal of a train of thought which had been so unspeakably painful to her. "Ah! see how the Russian violets have come into bloom-what an abundance! the ground is quite purple-let me get you a bouquet.” She kneeled down to gather the flowers. "Don't pick them!" said Amy, "I hate the scent of violets!" Edith looked up in her face inquiringly. "I hate flowers!" continued Amy, with vehemence. "What have I to do with quiet, simple pleasures and sweet natural beauties?—I have poisoned them all! I have never gathered a violet since I was eighteen-and then--" tears again interrupted her words. Edith rose, threw her arms around her, and tried to soothe her by caresses and words of endearment. If the presence and the voice of Love cannot soothe grief, it is indeed irremediable; and that Love is wisest which at such bitter seasons seeks rather to express its sympathy than to contend against the sorrow of the mourner. Mrs. Dalton repulsed Edith, but gently, and without any effort to disguise her emotion. “Leave me, dear Edith," said she; "'tis of no use. There, leave me-I am as weak as a child. Twelve years ago," she added, clasping Edith's hand between her own and speaking in a stifled but quite articulate voice, "I was engaged to that man whom you have seen this morning, and I gave him up because he would not give up his duty for my love. So he left England-and I-married. And we have never met since. Now go-and forget all this—and ask me no more questions-I shall be just as usual this evening." And Edith obeyed, and left her, with a warm embrace but without a word, and in the evening she was just as usual-a little flushed perhaps, and rather more vivacious in her conversation than was her habit when at home, but perfectly composed, and full of badinage with Mr. Thornton. She declined singing, but that was no uncommon whim, and she broke up the party early, but then she was tired with her long walk. She did not come into Edith's room, but pressed her hand on the stairs and wished her goodnight, and the next morning the unwonted colour and the slight restlessness were gone, and even her friend's eyes could discover no traces of the terrible emotion of the previous day. Truly, in one sense, we all of us walk through life like the pilgrim child in the German picture; we know not what fearful abysses are hidden from us by the fruits and flowers which grow around our path. |