238 A PICTURE FOR A POET. "How beautiful," says Miss Pratt, in one of her agreeable little books,*"how beautiful are the little islands of the stream, edged with the tall white meadow sweet, which sends its perfume far up over the green lands that lie around, and contrasts with the deep blue colour of the purple loose-strife! The willow herb, or codlins-and-cream, as the children call it, grows in perfection there; and there, too, bloom the little yellow water-flag, and the vetches, and the rich water-lily, which, seated on its round leaf, seems to swim over the crystal stream. The water-plantain, with its numerous small pink blossoms, grows in thick clusters quite down in the water, mingling with the white flowers and large spear-shaped leaves of the arrow-head, or half shading the large cup of the yellow water-lily. Then, too, the blue-eyed forget-me-not covers the little isles in such abundance that many of them well deserve the name of azure islands. The water-rat hides among the flowers, nibbling with much glee at the arrow-head, or rushing out from under its broad green leaves; and the water-fowl, followed by her young, sails across the stream in all the stateliness of matron dignity; and the little meek-eyed daisy grows beside the yellow velvet flower of the silver-weed, or the blue blossoms and succulent leaves of the brook-lime." The true Forget-me-not, Myosotis palustris, is invariably found in marshy localities or on the banks of streams; but the Meadow Scorpion-grass, Myosotis arvensis, is frequently mistaken for it. The "genuine article" has a bright blue blossom, much smaller than, but in shape something resem* Anne Pratt, “Flowers and their Associations" (ed. 1846). WHAT IS MYOSOTIS? 239 bling, the primrose; in its bract it has a drop of gold, and on each segment of the coloured portion of the flower is a small streak or fleck of white. Both the true forget-me-not and the false belong to the Borage family, or Boraginaceæ, which includes sixty-seven known genera, and nearly nine hundred species. It is said that after the battle of Waterloo, a remarkable number of forget-me-nots sprung up all over the fatal field. The circumstance might well be made the theme of a poet's lay, were it not for a suspicion that the little blue flowers belonged to the Myosotis arvensis species, and not to the Myosotis palustris. But why Myosotis? This Greek compound surely means "mouse-ear," and what have these plants to do with the auricular organs of mice? Why, their leaves were supposed to resemble in form the ear of Mus domesticus. The name of "scorpion-grass" originated in the fact that the top of the stem coils round while the buds are unblown, like a scorpion's tail. It is strange how quick the common people have been to detect these analogies, and to perpetuate them in the appellations they have bestowed on the flowers of the meadow, the wood, and the green lane. The singularly beautiful name of the Myosotis palustris— we mean its common and non-scientific name,—is ascribed, in a well-known German legend, to the dying knight who, having ventured at a dangerous spot to pluck a handful of the bright blue blossoms for his lady-love, fell into the stream, and as he sank, flung the dear-bought spoil towards her, exclaiming, "Forget me not!" 240 THE BORAGINACEÆ. A more probable origin is suggested by Miss Strickland. "Henry of Lancaster (Henry IV.)," she says, "appears to have been the person who gave it its emblematical and poetical meaning, by uniting it, at the period of his exile, with the initial letters of his watchword, Souveigne vous de moi; thus rendering it the symbol of remembrance, and, like the subsequent fatal roses of York and Lancaster and Stuart, the lily of Bourbon, and the violet of Napoleon, an historical flower." We have said that the scorpion-grass belongs to the natural family Boraginaceae, which receives its name from the common borage, a bright blue flower with very rough leaves. All its members are rough or hairy, except those which, like the forget-me-not, become smooth from living partly under water. The black stalks of the borage burn, it is said, like matchpaper, and its root enters largely into the composition of rouge. Its flowers were at one time held in great respect as a wholesome bitter ingredient for a tankard of ale. According to Pliny, "if the leaves and flowers of the borage be immersed in wine, and that wine drunken, the potion will make men blithe and merry, and drive away all heavy sadness and dull melancholy." Burton, in his "Anatomy of Melancholy," also says of it "Borage and hellebore fill two scenes, Of melancholy, and cheer the heart Of those black fumes which make it smart." THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 241 Most of the Boraginaceae are weeds, but they include a few ornamental garden-flowers; as, for example, the Peruvian heliotrope-the "cherry-pie" of the children-which is well known for the fragrance of its blue blossoms. Its Greek name refers to an ancient belief that it always "turned" to meet the sun; but neither heliotrope nor sunflower exhibits any such devotedness towards the great "orb of day." The poet's comparison "As the sunflower turns to his God, when he sets, is very pretty and suggestive, but unfortunately it is not true. THE LILIES. Are we justified in classing these among our summer flowers? Well, the lily of the valley may, perhaps, be more justly claimed by Spring, as it generally unveils its beauty in the month of May; but the water-lily belongs to Summer; and, at all events, it will be most convenient to speak of them in this category. The lily of the valley (Convallaria majalis),-the May-lily of old writers, has long been a favourite type of retiring modesty and tender loveliness. It affects the silence and solitude of the woodlands, where, in the shadow of broad leaves and sweeping branches, the inquiring botanist discovers "Like detected light, Its little green-tipt lamps of white." 242 THE "LILY OF THE FIELD.” Shakspeare, who neglected nothing, refers to its gentle humility of attitude :— 66 Shipwrecked upon a kingdom where no pity, No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me; Almost no grave allowed me ! like the lily That once was mistress of the field, and flourished, Our lily is a native of cold and temperate countries, and never shakes its pendant bells at the bidding of a hot Eastern breeze. It is very abundant in Norway. That agreeable writer and observant traveller, Henry Inglis, says :-" It stood everywhere around, scenting the air, and in such profusion, that it was scarcely possible to step without bruising its tender stalks and blossoms. I have not seen this flower mentioned in any enumeration of Norwegian plants, but it grows in all the western parts of Norway in latitude 59° and 60°, wherever the ground is free from forest, in greater abundance than any other wild-flower." As it will not live in hot countries, it cannot be the "lily of the field" which furnished our Saviour with so fruitful a text for warning and instruction. This, in all probability, was the yellow amaryllis, or Amaryllis lutea, a flower bearing some resemblance to our yellow crocus, but much larger, and with broader leaves. Its delicate blossoms escape from an undivided spathe, or sheath, and are bell-shaped, with six clefts and six stamens, which are alternately short and long. The flower seldom rises more than three or four inches above the soil, accompanied by green leaves, which, after the flowering |