every kind of sickness and misfortune. They were brought over from Germany in the reign of Henry the VIII., under the name of Abrunes, and by the help of certain pretended magical words, the knowledge of which the credulous obtained at a great price, were said to increase whatever money was placed near them. It was believed, also, at that time, that the mandrake was produced from the decaying flesh of malefactors hung upon the gibbet, and was to be found only in such situations. Dr. Turner, who lived in the time of Queen Elizabeth, declares, that he had divers times taken up the roots of the mandrake, but had never found them under the gallows; nor of the form which the pedlars, who sold them in boxes, pretended them to have been. This form was that of an ugly little man, with a long beard hanging down to his feet. Gerard, the herbalist, also, who wrote thirty years later, used many endeavours to convince the world of the impositions practised upon them, and states, that he and his servant frequently dug up the roots without receiving harm, or hearing any shrieks whatever. The mandrake grows naturally in Spain, Portugal, Italy, and the Levant, and it is also indigenous to China. It was introduced into this country about 1564. It is a handsome plant, and would, in particular situations, be ornamental to our gardens, independent of the strange, old associations connected with it, which would always make it an interesting object. I have seen it, however, only in one garden, that of the King of the Belgians, at Claremont. "It is," says Mr. Phillips, in his pleasant garden companion, the Flora Historica, from which work the above historical notices of the mandrake have been principally taken, "a species of deadly nightshade, which grows with a long taper root like the parsnip, running three or four feet deep; these roots are frequently forked, which assisted to enable the old quacks to give it the shape of a monster. This plant does not send up a stalk, but, immediately from the crown of the root arises a circle of leaves, which at first stand erect, but when grown to their full size, which is about a foot in length and five inches broad, of an ovate-lanceolate shape, waved at the edges, these spread open and lie on the ground; they are of a dark-green, and give out a fetid smell. About the month of April the flowers come out among the leaves, each on a scape about three inches long; they are of a bell shape with a long tube, and spread out into a five-cleft corolla. The colour is of an herbaceous white, but frequently has a tinge of purple. The flower is succeeded by a globular soft berry, when full grown, as large as a common cherry, but of a yellowish-green colour, when ripe and full of pulp, intermixed with numerous reniform seeds." If any of my readers should wish to cultivate this plant of "old renown," they should do it by sowing the seed in autumn, soon after it is ripe; as the seed kept till spring seldom produces plants. It should be set in a light, dry soil, and of a good depth, so that the root may not be chilled or obstructed; and care should be taken not to disturb it when it has once obtained a considerable size. THE HEDGE-HOG. THOU poor little English porcupine, What a harassed and weary life is thine! And thou art a creature meek and mild, That wouldst not harm a sleeping child. Thou scarce can'st stir from thy tree-root, But thy foes are up in hot pursuit ; Thou might'st be an asp, or horned snake, Thou poor little martyr of the brake! Thou scarce can'st put out that nose of thine; Thou can'st not show a single spine, But the urchin-rabble are in a rout, With terrier curs to hunt thee out. The poor Hedgehog! one would think he knew He's an innocent thing, living under the blame thine! I would that my pity thy foes could quell, For thou art ill-used, and meanest well! THE CUCKOO. "PEE! pee! pee!" says the merry Pee-Bird; The days go on, one, two, three; Cuckoo," the Cuckoo doth cry, "What want we with him? let him stay over sea!" My word! I do not wonder that people fear your Sings the bold, piping reed-sparrow, "want him? not we!" "Cuckoo!" the Cuckoo shouts still, "I care not for you, let you rave as you will!" "Cuckoo!" the Cuckoo doth cry, And the little boys mock him as they go by. Hark! hark!" sings the chiff-chaff, "hark! hark!" says the lark, And the white-throats and buntings all twitter "hark! hark!" The wren and the hedge-sparrow hear it anon, And "hark! hark!" in a moment shouts every one. “Hark! hark! — that's the Cuckoo there, shouting amain! Bless our lives! why that egg-sucker's come back again!" "Cuckoo!" the Cuckoo shouts still, "I shall taste of your eggs, let you rave as you will!" "Cuckoo" the Cuckoo doth cry, And the little boys mock him as they go by. The water-hens hear it, the rail and the smew, And they say, "Why on land there's a pretty to-do! sting! So! so!-Don't be so angry! Why do you come at me With a swoop and with a hum,-Is't a crime to look at ye? See where the testy fellow goes whiz into the hole, And brings out from the hollow tree his fellows in a shoal. Hark! what an awful, hollow boom! How fierce they come! I'd rather Just quietly step back, and stand from them a little farther. There, now, the hornet-host is retreating to its den, And so, good Mr. Sentinel-lo! here I am again! Well! how the little angry wretch doth stamp and raise his head, And flirt his wings, and seem to say, "Come here — I'll sting you dead!" No, thank you, fierce Sir Hornet, — that's not at all inviting; But what a pair of shears the rascal has for biting! What a pair of monstrous shears to carry at his head! If wasp or fly come in their gripe, that moment they are dead! There! bite in two the whip-lash, as we poke it at your chin! Sure the Cuckoo's come back, what else can be the See, how he bites! but it is tough, and again he Ho! ho! we soon shall have the whole of his vin dictive race, With a hurry and a scurry, all flying in our face. To potter in a Hornet's nest, is a proverb old and good, So it's just as well to take the hint, and retreat into the wood. Shouting loudly as ever, that self-same Cuckoo !" "Well, well," says the wild duck, "what is it to us; Oh! here behind this hazel-bush we safely may look I've no spite 'gainst the Cuckoo; why make such a fuss? out, And see what all the colony of hornets is about. Why what a furious troop it is, how fierce they seem to be, As they fly now in the sunshine, now in shadow of the tree! And yet they 're noble insects! their bodies red and yellow, And large almost as little birds, how richly toned and mellow. And these old woods, so full of trees, all hollow and decayed, Must be a perfect paradise, for the hornet legions made. So, there at last I've found you, my famous old fel- Secure from village lads, and from gardener's watchlow! ful eyes, Ay, and mighty grand besides, in your suit of red They may build their paper-nests, and issue for sup plies and yellow! To orchards or to gardens, for plum, and peach, and pear, With wasp, fly, ant, and earwig, they'll have a giant's share. And you, stout Mr. Sentinel, there standing at the door, Though Homer said in his time, "the hornet's soul all o'er," You're not so very spiritual, but soon some sunny morning I may find you in a green-gage, and give you a little warning, Or feeding in a Windsor pear; or at the juicy stalk Of my Negro-boy, grand dahlia, — too heavy much to walk; The Hornet is an insect that every one has heard of, because the fearful effects of its sting and its fierceness are proverbial; but it is by no means common in many parts of the country. In the midland counties hornets are often talked of, but rarely seen. We have lived in several of the midland counties, and seen a good deal of them, but never saw a hornet there. Since coming to reside in Surrey, we have found plenty of them. They come buzzing into the house, and are almost as common in the garden as wasps themselves, devouring the fruits above-mentioned, and also as voracious of the green, tender bark of the dahlia, as ants are of the juice of the yucca. They peel the young branches with their nippers or shears, as a rabbit peels a young tree; and wasps, and the great blue-bottle and other flies follow in their train, and suck its juice greedily. In common, too, with the wasps, which by their side appear very diminutive insects, they gorge themselves so with the pulp of fruit as to drop heavily on the earth on being suddenly disturbed, and are then easily destroyed. They frequently make their nests in the thatch of cottages and outbuildings, where it is difficult to destroy them, as in such situations, neither fire, sulphur, nor gunpowder can be used, and producing large swarms there, they are dangerous and devouring neighbours. On Bookham Common, a pleasant wide tract, overgrown with trees, principally oaks, and resembling a forest with its fern and green turfy glades, much more than a common, we found two nests within a few yards of each other, in two hollow trees, where the sentinel, and indeed the whole swarms, behaved themselves as above represented. Whether three of these insects are sufficient to kill a horse, as the old country saying avers, is doubtful; but, from their size, the irritability of their nature, and the appearance of their stings, they are very formidable creatures indeed. THE USE OF FLOWERS. GOD might have bade the earth bring forth The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, We might have had enough, enough And yet have had no flowers. Nor doth it need the lotus-flower The clouds might give abundant rain; Upspringing day and night:- And on the mountains high, And in the silent wilderness Where no man passes by? Our outward life requires them not- To beautify the earth; To comfort man-to whisper hope, THE CARRION-CROW. It is on the top of an ancient oak The old oak trunk is gnarled and grey, "His master he knows not where he lies, "The mare was blind, and lame, and thin, "And there bleats a lamb by the thundering linn, "All day long he moans and calls, "His little heart doth pine away, "He'll have the first peck at his black eye, While the trees are leafless; While the fields are bare, Spring up here and there. Opes its paly gold, Buttercups are bright; Somewhere 'mong the frozen grass Peeps the Daisy white. Little hardy flowers Like to children poor, Playing in their sturdy health By their mother's door; Purple with the north-wind, Yet alert and bold, Fearing not and caring not, Though they be a-cold! What to them is weather! What are stormy showers! Buttercups and Daisies Are these human flowers! He who gave them hardship And a life of care, Gave them likewise hardy strength And patient hearts, to bear. Welcome yellow buttercups, Welcome daisies white, Ye are in my spirit Visioned, a delight! Coming ere the spring-time Of sunny hours to tellSpeaking to our hearts of HIM Who doeth all things well. THE TITMOUSE, OR BLUE.CAP. THE merry Titmouse is a comical fellow; Perhaps in the ark might be taken offence,- Only this is quite true,-let them meet as they may, Having quarrelled long since, they would quarrel to day. But we'll leave them to settle this ancient affair, And now look at his nest, made with exquisite care, Of lichen, and moss, and the soft downy feather. And the web of the spider to keep it together. Is a brick out of place by your window ?-don't send For the poor little Titmouse has made it his own. He can't lift a feather without a grimace; See his round, burly head, that is like a Friar Tuck, Oh, no-make him welcome, as welcome can be! But to keep her eggs warm, and be neighbourly too! Oh, what! did you say that the Titmouse was stealing, That he ate your pear-buds while he shammed to be reeling; And nipped off the apricot-bloom in his fun?- Be not rash, though he light on your apricot-bough,-| Now look at the apricot bud,- is it gone? Not the apricot bud,-but the grub that was in it!You may thank him, he does you a service each minute. Then love the poor Titmouse, and welcome him too, SUNSHINE. I LOVE the sunshine everywhere, — I love it in the busy haunts I love it when it streameth in And casts the chequered casement shade I love it where the children lie I love it on the breezy sea, To glance on sail and oar, While the great waves, like molten glass, Come leaping to the shore. I love it on the mountain-tops, Where lies the thawless snow, And half a kingdom, bathed in light, Lies stretching out below. And when it shines in forest-glades, Hidden, and green, and cool, Through mossy boughs and veinèd leaves, How is it beautful! How beautiful on little stream, When sun and shade at play, Make silvery meshes, while the brook Goes singing on its way. How beautiful, where dragon-flies Where yellow shocks stand high! Like kindness or like mirth, Upon a human countenance, Is sunshine on the earth! Upon the earth; upon the sea; And through the crystal air, Or piled-up cloud; the gracious sun Is glorious everywhere! THE ELEPHANT. ELEPHANT, thou sure must be Of the Titan progeny; One of that old race that sleep. |