pretty plant; but it is one most injurious to pasture land. The cranesbills are beginning to bloom in this month; and every one must recognise the little dove's-foot cranesbill (Geranium molle), which blossoms on almost every bank and waste place. It has long spreading stems, and round grey-green leaves, deeply cut into segments, and downy as velvet. Its flowers are small, and of a purplish red. There are seventeen species of cranesbill, but this blooms earliest of all. None, however, are more beautiful than the herb-Robert, or poor robin (Geranium Robertianum), which blooms next month,a lovely flower, that shows its pretty pink blossoms in all places; and when these have died away, its leaves, in autumn often assuming a rich crimson glow, are as beautiful as the flowers themselves. Unfortunately it has a strong, unpleasant smell, and on that account is called stinking cranesbill. It is stated to have been called after Professor Roberts of Oxford, but many believe its name to bear a much older date. The name geranium is derived from the Greek, and signifies a crane. The seed-vessels of the plants, from being long and pointed, are supposed to resemble the bill of a crane. Ah! here we have come upon the cuckoo-pint (Arum maculatum)— 'The hooded arum, early sprouting up'— better known by its familiar names of lord-and-ladies and wake-robin; in France fancifully called bonnet de grand prêtre, or high-priest's mitre. From the centre of its large, broad, glossy leaves, spotted with a darker green, rises a sort of column of lighter green. Carefully unrol this leafy sheath, and you will find a delicate, rich violet pillar, tapering at the summit, and surrounded by rows of white and red beading, the whole being as elegant in form as it is beautiful in colour. 'Oh, cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple clapper In winter a thick cluster of bright orange berries surround the stem, and are very conspicuous. Though highly poisonous, they are eaten, and seemingly relished by birds. The root of the plant is about the size of a nutmeg, and contains a farinaceous powder, not a bad substitute for flour. It is sold in Portland Island and Weymouth; and in London you can buy it under the name of Portland sago. The starch made from the root was highly prized in olden times, when ladies, and gentlemen too, were attired in ruffs and frills, so large and stiffly starched, that one wonders how they contrived to move either head or hands. But we have not time to linger, for many April blossoms are yet to gather. There is that 'little western flower,' 'The shining pansy, trimm'd with golden lace.' Shakespeare tells us that 'Maidens call it love-in-idleness.' This pretty little wild heartsease (Viola tricolor), so common during the summer months, is a species of violet, its name of pansy being a corruption of the HEARTSEASE-Viola tricolor. French pensée-thought. 'There's rosemary,' says poor Ophelia, that's for remembrance;-pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.' It is rich in names given by the old poets, such as, Jumpup-and-kiss-me, Herb-trinity, Pink-of-my-john, Threefaces-under-a-hood, etc. It is a general favourite : Spencer speaks of 'the pretty paunce;' Dryden of 'pansies to please the sight;' Hunt mentions the 'Heartsease, like a gallant bold, In his cloth of purple and gold.' But Milton gives the finest description: "The pansy freaked with jet.' It blossoms on banks and cultivated fields, and varies much in colour, being sometimes pure white, at others a delicate cream, or tinged with yellow, blue, and purple. Wandering through the woodlands, we cannot fail to notice a small white, delicate, bell-shaped flower, which blooms freely in the shady place, yet may often be found decking the high mountain. It is the pretty wood-sorrel (Oxalis acetosella), which never appears earlier than April, though frequently growing in cold countries. It was found by Captain Parry in places where scarcely any other flower ventured to blossom; and we are told that, 'when he saw no longer the wood-sorrel, he had reached the dreary regions of perpetual snow.' It is a humble little flower, lowly in growth, its delicate pearlwhite petals elegantly veined with purple lines: 'The trim oxalis, with her pencilled leaf.' Almost as beautiful is its bright green triplet leaf, shaped like three small hearts joined together at the points, and E which spring profusely around the blossoms. It is the most sensitive wildling we have; for so soon as the evening dews begin to fall, it droops its leaves around the stems, and ever seems to shrink at the approach of night, or the faintest whisper of a coming storm. Its roots resemble coral beads strung together, as Charlotte Smith describes it: 'The wood-sorrel, with its light green leaves, |