THE CHILD AND FLOWERS.

HAST thou been in the woods with the honey-bee? Hast thou been with the lamb in the pastures free? With the hare through the copses and dingles wild? With the butterfly over the heath, fair child?

Yes; the light fall of thy bounding feet

Hath not startled the wren from her

mossy seat Yet hast thou rang'd the green forest dells, And brought back a treasure of buds and bells.

;

Thou know'st not the sweetness, by antique song,
Breath'd o'er the names of that flow'ry throng:
The woodbine, the primrose, the violet dim,
The lily that gleams by the fountain's brim:
These are old words, that have made each grove
A dreamy haunt for romance and love;
Each sunny bank, where faint odours lie,

A place for the gushings of poesy.

Thou know'st not the light wherewith fairy lore
Sprinkles the turf and the daisies o'er.
Enough for thee are the dews that sleep,
Like hidden gems in the flower-urns deep;
Enough the rich crimson spots that dwell
'Midst the gold of the cowslip's perfumed cell;
And the scent by the blossoming sweetbriars shed,
And the beauty that bows the wood-hyacinth's head.

Oh! happy child, in thy fawn-like glee,
What is remembrance or thought to thee?

Fill thy bright locks with those gifts of spring;
O'er thy green pathway their colours fling;
Bind them in chaplet and wild festoon-
What if to droop and to perish soon?
Nature hath mines of such wealth-and thou
Never wilt prize its delights as now.

For a day is coming to quell the tone

That rings in thy laughter, thou joyous one!
And to dim thy brow with a touch of care,
Under the gloss of its clustering hair;
And to tame the flash of thy cloudless eyes
Into the stillness of autumn skies;

And to teach thee that grief hath her needful part 'Midst the hidden things of each human heart.

Yet, shall we mourn, gentle child, for this?
Life hath enough of yet holier bliss.

Such be thy portion! the bliss to look
With a reverent spirit through Nature's book;
By fount, by forest, by river's line,

To track the paths of a love divine;
To read its deep meanings-to see and hear
God in earth's garden,—and not to fear.

MRS. HEMANS.

LOVE'S WREATH.

When Love was a child, and went idling round
Among flowers the whole summer's day,
One morn in the valley a bower he found,
So sweet it allured him to stay.

O'er head from the trees hung a garland fair,

A fountain ran darkly beneath;

'Twas Pleasure that hung the bright flowers up there, Love knew it and jumped at the wreath.

But Love did not know, and at his weak years,
What urchin was likely to know

That sorrow had made of her own salt tears,
That fountain which murmured below?

He caught at the wreath but with too much haste,
As boys when impatient will do,

It fell in those waters of briny taste,

And the flowers were all wet through.

Yet this is the wreath, he wears night and day;
And though it all sunny appears

With Pleasure's own lustre, each leaf, they say,
Still tastes of the fountain of tears.

MOORE.

TO MAKE A HORTUS SICCUS, OR

HERBARIUM.

PERHAPS it may not be unacceptable to our readers to make a few remarks on the benefit of procuring a collection of dried plants: we will therefore quote Sir James Smith's observations on the subject.

"The advantage of preserving specimens of plants, as far as it can be done, for examination at all times and seasons, is abundantly obvious. Notwithstanding the multitude of books filled with descriptions and figures of plants, and however ample such may be, they can teach no more than their authors observed. But when we have the works of nature before us, we can investigate them for ourselves, pursuing any train of inquiry to its utmost extent, nor are we liable to be misled by the errors or misconceptions of others.

"A good practical botanist must be educated among the wild scenes of nature, while a finished theoretical one requires the additional assistance of gardens and books, to which must be superadded the frequent use of a good herbarium. When plants are well dried, the original forms and positions of even their minutest parts, though not their colours, may at any time be restored by immersion in hot water. By this means, the productions of the most distant and various countries, such as no garden could possibly supply,

are brought together at once under our eye, at any season of the year. If these be assisted with drawings and descriptions, nothing less than an actual survey of the whole vegetable world in a state of nature could excel such a store of information.

"The greater part of plants dry with facility between the leaves of books, or other paper; the smoother the better.

"If there be plenty of paper, they often dry best without shifting; but if the specimens are crowded they must be taken out frequently, and the paper dried, before they are replaced.

"The great point to be attended to is, that the process should meet with no check. Several vegetables are so tenacious of their vital principle, that they will grow between papers, the consequence of which is a destruction of their proper habit and colour. It is necessary to destroy the life of such, either by immersion in boiling water, or by the application of a hot iron, such as is used for linen, after which they are easily dried.

"I cannot, however, approve of the practice of applying such an iron, as some persons do with great labour and perseverance, till the plants are quite dry, and all their parts incorporated into a smooth flat mass, this renders them unfit for subsequent examination, and destroys their natural habit, the most important thing to be preserved.

"Even in spreading plants between papers, we should refrain from that precise and artificial disposition of their branches, leaves, and other parts, which