plant altogether seldom exceeds a foot in height. It is, with the exception of the water-lilies "those flowers made of light"-the most beautiful of the many coloured ornaments of pools and rivulets which our country scenery presents; and it is generally very abundant in such places. It is often sold in pots or bouquets in the markets of Paris.

The Germans, who display considerable taste in decking graves with flowers, place the forgetme-not upon their tombs. If this flower be taken from the water, and planted in dry places, its aspect becomes considerably altered, but it is still a pretty blossom. Its frequent use in the burial-place might allow of its bearing the same name among the Germans that the Italians give to the periwinkle, which they employ for a similar purpose, and call fior di morto-the flower of death.

Meet offerings they are to the kind and the good,
Those flowers of an azure as pure as the sky;
And there are they gathered in mournfullest mood,
Or planted and tended with many a sigh,

Where friendship reposes, or love is asleep,

Their beauty is decking the lowly green sod;
While heart-stricken mourners come hither to weep,
Over her who has left them to rise to her God.

It is said that after the battle of Waterloo an immense quantity of forget-me-not sprung up upon different parts of the soil enriched by the blood of heroes. This was probably the small but bright blue meadow scorpion-grass, which, as before mentioned, sometimes receives that name. A poet might say that the appearance of such a flower in this memorable spot seemed to ask that we should not soon forget those who perished on the field.

The name of mouse-ear (Myosótis) was given to these plants, from a fancied similarity in the form of the leaf to the ear of a mouse; and they received the name of scorpion-grass because the top of the stems bend round while the buds are unblown, in the shape of a scorpion's tail. The legend of the dying knight who cast a handful of these flowers to his mistress, and faintly uttered "forget me not," as he sank

P

under the water, is a very pretty, though scarcely a probable origin of the name.

The young buds of the water scorpion-grass, as well as several of the field species, are, before expansion, of a delicate rose-colour, which tint gradually becomes paler as they devolope themselves, though the under surface of the flower, when fully open, always retains a shade of this colour.

Seven species of scorpion-grass grow wild in Great Britain, and some others have been introduced into the garden from different parts of Europe. One kind (Myosótis suaveolens), a native of Hungary, is odoriferous.

It is, probably, to the bright little blue field scorpion-grass, which is often found in woods, that the following lines refer. The author of this work cannot tell who is their writer, or if they have ever appeared in print, but their simple beauty will render any apology for their insertion here unnecessary.

THE WEE FLOWER.

A bonny wee flower grew green i' the wuds,
Like a twinklin star amang the cluds,

And the langer it levit the greener it grew,

For 't was lulled by the winds and fed by the dew.
When the mornin sun raise frae its eastern ha',
This bonny wee flower was the earliest o' a'
To open its buds sealed up in the dew,

And spread out its leaves o' the yellow and blue;
When the winds were still, and the sun rode high,
And the clear mountain burn ran wimplin by,
When the wee birds sang, and the wilderness bee
Was floating awa like a clud o'er the sea,
This bonny wee flower was bloomin unseen,
The sweet child o' simmer in its rokely green;
And when the nicht clud grew dark o'er the plain,
When the stars were out, and the moon on the wane,
When the bird and the bee were gane to rest,
And the dews o' the nicht the green earth press'd,
The bonny wee flower lay smiling asleep,

Like a beautifu' pearl in the dark green deep;

And when hairst had come, and the simmer was past,
And the dead leaves were strewn on the circling blast,
The bonny wee flower grew naked and bare,
And its wee leaves shrunk i' the frozen air;

So this bonny wee flower hung down its braw head,
And the bricht mornin sun flung its beams on its bed,
And the pale stars looked out-but the wee flower was dead.

The scorpion-grass has received great attention from botanists, and the plants composing this genus are in some of their species so similar that their chief mark of distinction has been found in the manner of growth of the hairs which are upon their foliage. The degree of hairiness upon plants is not a permanent character, as it varies with culture, situation, or other accidental circumstances; but Sir James Smith has observed, that the direction of the growth of the hairs or the bristles on a plant is as little liable to exception as any mark of distinction which vegetables present, as it is always the same in every plant of the species. He adds that some species of the bedstraw are admirably characterised by "the bristles of their leaves being hooked backwards or forwards."

Those who are not accustomed to examine plants with a microscope, are little aware of the wonders they present to the close observer, or of the perfect structure which even the smallest plant exhibits. The situation of the hairs, as well as their mode of arrangement on the stems