year, the having left off fires;-all fall like a chill shade upon the spirits. But we know not how much pleasantry can be made out of unpleasantness, till we bestir ourselves. The exercise of our bodies will make us bear the weather better, even mentally; and the exercise of our minds will enable us to bear it with patient bodies in-doors, if we cannot go out. Above all, some people seem to think that they cannot have a fire made in a chill day, because it is summer-time,-a notion which, under the guise of being seasonable, is quite the reverse, and one against which we protest. A fire is a thing to warm us when we are cold; not to go out because the name of the month begins with J. Besides, the sound of it helps to dissipate that of the rain. It is justly called a companion. It looks glad in our faces; it talks to us; it is vivified at our touch; it vivifies in return; it puts life, and warmth, and comfort in the room. A good fellow is bound to see that he leaves this substitute for his company when he goes out, especially to a lady; whose solitary work-table in a chill room on such a day is a very melancholy refuge. We exhort her, if she can afford it, to take a book and a footstool, and sit by a good fire. We know of few baulks more complete than coming down of a chill morning to breakfast, turning one's chair as usual to the fire-side, planting one's feet on the fender and one's eyes on a book, and suddenly discovering that there is no fire in the grate'.

In this uncertain month, the birds of fashion' are frequently surprised by a passing shower, and the beauty of their plumage is somewhat injured by a sudden storm; this, however, is of little import, as trade is benefited, and the industrious shopkeeper obtains more orders for silks, sarsnets, and feathers. To civic belles, however, who take their

Indicator, No. xxxvii, p. 290.

Sunday promenade in the parks to exhibit their
pretty persons and handsome dresses, a shower of
rain is indeed a misfortune almost irreparable.
Fiercer and fiercer blows the gust,
Burthened at once with rain and dust:
Breathless they scud, some helter skelter
To carriages, and some for shelter;
Lisping to coachmen drunk or dumb
In numbers-while no numbers come.
Nor sheds are near-nor open shops
Protect them from the big round drops :'
Their sarsnets spoiled, their stockings splashed,
Their muslins prematurely washed;
Some in their clinging clothes so lank,
Others so bouncing, all so blank,

Enraged, resigned, in tears, or frowning,
Look as if just escaped from drowning;
While anxious thoughts pursue them home,
Whence their next Sunday's dress must come.

The flowers which blossomed in the last month soon mature their seeds, and hasten to decay. A new race succeeds, which demands all the fervid rays of a solstitial sun to bring it to perfection. Summer may be said to commence with this month: the meadows begin to whiten, and the flowers that adorn them are mowed down. The corn gradually assumes a yellow hue, and the colours that decorate the rural scene are no longer so numerous. Corncockle (agrostemma githago) is in flower, and reminds the farmer to pull it from among his crop of wheat, lest it spoil his sample and deteriorate the bread.

As summer advances, the vocal music of the groves is lessened, and in this month may be said to cease altogether-if we except the chirping of the wren and two or three small birds.

Towards the middle of the month, the spiked willow (spirea salicifolia), jessamine (jasminum officinale), hyssop (hyssopus officinalis), the bell-flower (campanula), and the white lily, have their flowers full blown. The wayfaring tree, or guelder rose, be

gins to enrich the hedges with its bright red berries, which in time turn black. The Virginian sumach (rhus typhinum) now exhibits its scarlet tufts of flowers upon its bright green circles of leaves. The berries of the mountain ash turn red. The lavender (lavendula spica) is in flower, and affords its perfumes, whether in a fresh state, or dried, or distilled with spirits of wine. In this, and the following month, the purple loosestrife (lythrum salicaria) ornaments the sides of ponds and brooks, and, by its tall spike of blue flowers, gives a rich appearance to the cooling retreats of river banks. It is intermixed with the meadowsweet (spirea ulmaria), the spicy fragrance of which scents the surrounding air.

The different tribes of insects, which, for the most part, are hatched in the spring, are now in full vigour; and the sounds which they utter, take place of the music of birds: gnats, with their 'murmuring small trumpets,' buzz around us, accompanied with Flies,

Whose woven wings the summer dyes

Of many colours;

and the grasshopper, too, chirps his merry note,

From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead,
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,

And hide in cooling trees.

Flying ants quit their nests, and the dew-moth, and Granville butterfly, make their appearance: see our last volume, p. 188.

Pomona now offers her fruits to allay the parching thirst; currants, gooseberries, raspberries, strawberries, cherries, and cranberries', are all peculiarly refreshing at this season2.

See an account of cranberries in our last volume, p. 189.

2 A new and splendid work on ENGLISH FRUIT has been lately published by MR. BROOKSHAW, author of the Pomona Britanica, which

Towards the end of the month, the flowers of the laurustinus (viburnum tinus), and the burdock (arctium lappa), begin to open; and the elecampane (inula helenium), the amaranth (amaranthus caudatus), the great water plantain (alisma plantago), water mint (mentha aquatica), and the common nightshade, have their flowers full blown. The mezereon (daphne mezereon), which in January cheered the eye with its rods of purple flowers without leaves, and regaled the smell, now displays its scarlet berries through its bright green leaves. Towards the close of this month the flower-garden exhibits symptoms of decay; and Time, who thins the ranks of all animated beings, does not spare those of the ornamented and highly fascinating Flora. The beautiful ' rose,' however, the glory of the garden, still continues to spread its blushing honours' thick before us.

I've seen, indeed, the hopeful bud
Of a ruddy rose, that stood
Blushing to behold the ray
Of the new saluted day;

His tender top not fully spread;
The sweet dash of a shower now shed,
Invited him no more to hide
Within himself the purple pride
Of his forward flower, when lo,
While he sweetly 'gan to show
His swelling glories, Auster spied him,
Cruel Auster thither hied him,
And with the rush of one rude blast
Shamed not spitefully to waste
All his leaves, so fresh, so sweet,

And lay them trembling at his feet.

CRASHAW.

The damask rose produces white and red flowers on the same tree, and has been celebrated in our history, as the emblems of the Houses of York and

will be found extremely useful to horticulturists: it contains most faithful and beautifully coloured delineations of the best varieties of English Fruit, accompanied with full descriptions of their various properties, time of ripening, and directions for planting them, so as to produce a longer succession of fruit; such being pointed out as are particularly calculated for open walls and for forcing,

S

Lancaster. When those families contended for the crown, the white rose distinguished the partizans of the house of York; the red, the party of Lancaster: and in an old author we have this beautiful Epigram on a White Rose being presented to a Lancastrian Lady:

If this fair rose offend thy sight,

It in thy bosom wear;

"Twill blush to find itself less white,
And turn, Lancastrian there.

The 'busy' bee still pursues his ceaseless task of collecting his varied sweets to form honey for his destroyer man.

Mr. White, the naturalist, of Selborne, relates a curious anedote of an idiot boy who was a determined enemy to bees. They were his food, his amusement, his sole object. In the winter he dozed away his time in his father's house, by the fire-side, in a torpid state, seldom leaving the chimney-corner: but in summer he was all alert and in quest of his game. Hive-bees, humble-bees, and wasps, were his prey, wherever he found them. He had no apprehension from their stings, but would seize them with naked