must not presume to perform a task so difficult. must be content if we can recall the scene to our mental vision; it were vain to attempt more-to attempt to describe that which is indescribable. But as we looked upon this sunset, where stood we? It was by the water's edge. How smooth and placid was that stream! Around us we had a variety of pleasing objects. On one elevated mound stood a ruined chapel ; roofless, its windows void of glass or masonry. There was a time, when, within those now crumbling walls, the sacred priest, in surplice and in stole, led his little flock to seek in prayer for heavenly food from their Chief Shepherd. Can we not fancy now that building as it once stood, filled with the saints who then assembled there, lowly kneeling on bended knee, and pouring out their hearts' desires before Him who knows and grants them? It might be an evening like this, when all around was repose. A soft light beamed through the latticed windows upon that devoted flock. How harmonious with their subdued feelings, as then assembled in the special presence of their common Father! Surely there, many, if not all, had a richer foretaste than usual of those endless joys which now they participate in, in the heavenly temple. And, as they came forth from that presence, haply they saw, as we now see, those stately trees beyond the stream, scattered over the level tract of grassy land, through which it meanders. They heard no sound but that of the bleating of sheep and the lowing of the cattle, or the song of lark and chirp of sparrow, or now and then the voice of youth clear and shrill ringing through the still air. Then, as now, the margin of the river was decked with flowers, the fragrant meadow-sweet, the

rich blue forget-me-not, the bright red purple willow herb, the golden butter-cups, and on projecting sand rocks, here and there, the pretty heath. And in places a solitary Flowering Rush, such as we plucked there. But we must let Wordsworth describe such an evening. Are not his words clothed with the same peaceful spirit as that whose influence we have endeavoured thus feebly to portray?

How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view

The spacious landscape change in form and hue!
Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood
Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood;
There, objects, by the searching beams betrayed,
Come forth, and here retire in purple shade;
Even the white stems of birch, the cottage white,
Soften their glare before the mellow light;
The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide
Yon chestnuts half the latticed boat-house hide,
Shed from their sides, that face the sun's slant beam,
Strong flakes of radiance on the tremulous stream :
Raised by yon travelling flock, a dusty cloud
Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud;
The shepherd, all involved in wreaths of fire,
Now shows a shadowy speck, and now is lost entire.

Into a gradual calm the breezes sink,

A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink;
There doth the twinkling aspen's foliage sleep;
And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deep;
And now, on every side, the surface breaks
Into blue spots, and slowly lengthening streaks;
Here, plots of sparkling water tremble bright
With thousand, thousand twinkling points of light;
There, waves that, hardly weltering, die away,
Tip their smooth ridges with a softer ray;
And now the whole wide lake in deep repose
Is hushed, and like a burnished mirror glows,
Save where, along the shady western marge,
Coasts, with industrious oar, the charcoal barge.

It was just within the water's edge of such a placid stream where we found the Flowering Rush; only one of the numerous flowers of its large terminal umbel was expanded. It was of a deepish pink, with streaks of deeper hue, almost purple. It was met with of various colours, from pink to white. It is a very conspicuous plant and favourite flower.

The common Flowering Rush is furnished with a fibrous root, to which are attached underground stems growing horizontally, which are white, tuberous, and fleshy. The whole plant is smooth, and its structure is loose and cellular. The scape (the stem at the extremity of which the umbel of flowers is formed, being so called) grows from three to five feet high, is solitary, simple, round, and naked. The leaves grow erect to nearly the same length as the scape, and are almost triangular below, linear and flat above, and frequently twisted spirally. The manner in which this plant flowers, is that of a simple umbel, comprising many beautiful flowers, of a roseate tinge, not self-coloured, and nearly an inch in diameter when fully expanded. The involucre, the bractea which surround the flowers of umbelliferous plants in a whorl, of three lanceolate, egg-shaped, with long narrow pointed pieces, concave, and spreading. The pedicels, or small footstalks, of the ray are slender, spreading, and about three inches. in length, each being furnished at its base with thin membraneous sheathing bracteæ, of a brownish colour. The perianth, the corolla being undistinguishable from the flower-cup, is single, and consists of six egg-shaped hollow pieces, the three innermost being the smallest. There are nine stamens, six in an outer ring, three in the inner, filaments awl shaped, shorter than the pieces

of the perianth. The anthers are oblong, of two cells, which burst lengthwise, and then become contracted into something of a heart-shaped form.

The Flowering Rush inhabits the margins of rivers, the banks of ditches, and marshy places, and is frequently found in England; on the banks of the Wey, Surrey; in Ireland; Duddingston Loch, and Loch of Clunie, Scotland, but very likely introduced. It is a perennial plant, and flowers in June, July, and August. It is of the Linnæan class Enneandria, and order Monogynia, and is the only British species in this class of the Linnæan system. It is in the Natural order Butomeœ; and may be regarded as one of the most handsome flowers. It seems to have been used, in former days, for decorating gardens, and as an ornament to artificial lakes. Gerarde writes that "it is of all others the fairest and most pleasant to behold, and serveth very well for the decking and trimming up of houses, because of the beauty and bravery thereof.”

BIRD'S-FOOT TREFOIL.

Lotus; L. Le lotier; Fr. Der schotenklee; Ger. Rolklaver; Dutch. Il loto; Ital. El loto; Sp. O loteiro; Port. Kierringtand; Dan.

THERE are few places where this beautiful little flower may not be met with, more or less abundantly. We have seen it growing plentifully this year in Surrey, and we noticed it to be very common about Cambridge, by the road sides, and margins of meadows. It was, perhaps, one of the most conspicuous flowers there; generally growing in patches, when its brightcoloured flowers, varying from pale yellow to deep orange, made it very attractive. It is, however, a most variable plant; so much so that the varieties almost deserve to be called species. The leaves are more or less developed. They are sometimes smooth, sometimes hairy. These different varieties are supposed to be produced by the difference of soil, depending upon the degree of moisture contained in it. Various opinions have been expressed about the merits of the Bird's-foot Trefoil. Some think it useful, others regard it as worthless. There are those who recommend it as an agricultural plant of great value, adapted for permanent pastures or for hay. Dr. Henderson, for instance, recommends it; on the other hand, Miller depreciates it and its allies. Sinclair, however, in his treatise on British Grasses, says that he found it a valuable ingredient in meadows, particularly where the soil was moderately moist. The inference is that it is in many pastures worthy of cultivation, affording a good supply of herbage in succession. In common with some other plants, it makes the greater effort to