grounds be good to strewe in halls, chambers, and galleries, to walk upon, defending apparell as traynes of gownes and kirtles from the dust." Those who have visited Redcliff Church, Bristol, on Whit Sunday, have seen that Rushes are still strewn, and flowers display all the "braverie" of their beauty on that day, in obedience to the will of honest old Nature-loving William Spencer, who, in 1494, left an annual sum to the Corporation to be expended for this purpose, thus perpetuating one of the old and pleasant customs of our ancestors. Everyone can appreciate the exceeding pleasant odour given forth by fresh Rushes as they are trampled under foot. This verdant carpet was of old something of a luxury, even with the great, for it is chronicled that one of the charges of gross extravagance and luxury made against Cardinal Wolsey was that his rooms were strewed with fresh Rushes every week! White, in his history of Selborne, gives full directions for the gathering, peeling, and bleaching of Rushes, and of their manufacture into lights, by which he shows that the families of the labouring classes may obtain "five and a-half hours of comfortable light for a farthing." There are many kinds of Rushes; that alluded to by White is the soft Rush. The common Rush is found in damp pastures and by roadsides. The extensive drainage operations carried out for the last ten or fifteen years have almost annihilated the field Rush. In favourable situations it shows its dense globular head of brown flowers about the middle of July. The straw is naked, straight, soft, and faintly striated. The ancient herbalists seem to have been utterly at a loss as to the medical properties of the Rush. Culpepper says, in answer to the question, "Are our Rushes good for nothing?" "Yes, and as good to let them alone as taken, as the old proverb is, I care not a Rush for them,' or, rather, they will do you as much good as if one had given you a Rush!" It were well if some of our modern "specifics" proved as innocent as the Rush. APRIL 13TH. THE WOOD ANEMONE.-(Anemone nemorosa.) "Beautiful fairy of the old hoar woods! Thou comest at a time when flowers are dead, ASHWORTH. THIS "delicate blossom of the lonely wood" is very plentiful. It is usually of a creamy white, veined with bright pink, and slightly scented. The flower stalk is surrounded about midway with three finely-cut, dark green leaves, also often veined with pink. The stalk is very slender, permitting the starshaped blossom to bend and bow with every breath of air; it is thus enabled, like most of our early spring flowers, where not protected by the leaves, to ride out the fiercest tempest in safety. The plant is of an acrid quality, raising a blister if bruised on the hand; and though dangerous to cattle, the goat feeds on it without injury. The plant is sometimes called wind flower, so named by the Greeks from Anemos, the wind. It is said not to open its blossom but during high winds, and to indicate the arrival of the swallow. It blooms, however, freely in dry, still weather, and precedes the swallow often by several weeks. The Anemone was supposed of old to be in great favour with the fairies. The poets make repeated allusion to this partiality as "a fairy gifted flower." The crimson veins of the petals were said to be the loving work of the elfin race "The fairies streak The blushes in thy cheek When moonlight sleeps upon thee." The flower is a natural barometer, indicating approaching moisture or the night air by curling over its petals in a curious tent-like fashion. This was supposed to be the work of the fairies, who nestled inside the tent, and carefully pulled the curtains around them. A superstitious belief in the power of the plant or of its protectors appears to have prevailed from the earliest records. The poets attributed the red markings to the blood of Adonis, and the milky white to the nectar of Venus. Pliny states that the flowers were gathered and kept as a protection from fevers; those who wished to be free from the disease were directed to gather the first Anemone of the year, with a kind of incantation invoking preservation from "tertian and quartain fevers." The Romans held the flower in high esteem, but whether on account of its delicate beauty, or with a belief in some magic virtue, is not clear. The blossom of the plant is succeeded by clusters of minute seeds, with long shining curious tails, that have a very peculiar appearance when waving in the wind. APRIL 14TH. THE CUCKOO.-(Cuculus canorus.) "O blithe new-comer! 1 have heard, The oft-repeated notes of this, the most remarkable of our spring visitors, though wanting in variety and melody, is ever heard in spring with unfeigned pleasure-we seem to have no sufficient assurance that the winter is indeed gone, until the announcement of the fact has been proclaimed from the treetops by the Cuckoo. The cry carries the mind forward to Thus the quaint, monotonous note becomes, to the lover of Nature, beautiful ærial music-the very voice of springcalling rich and poor forth to the enjoyment of the wonders so lavishly spread around for all. The birds of the woodland and the flowers of the field are essentially the patrimony of the poor. The Cuckoo in its full plumage ranks among our handsomest birds. The prevailing tint is of clear ash, softened and shaded; the broad, fan-like tail is spotted and edged with white; in size it is nearly as large as a pigeon; its flight appears somewhat heavy and uncertain for a bird that feeds on the wing. The date usually assigned for its arrival is the 14th of April, known in some villages as Cuckoo's Day. According to our own observations its arrival somewhat depends upon the season. The habits of the bird are extremely peculiar that of deputing the hatching and rearing of its offspring to other birds is well known; but how the egg is conveyed into the small nest of the hedge sparrow or fly-catcher has not been so clearly ascertained. The Cuckoo is said to carry the egg in the claw, and thus deposit it in the nest; but this requires corroboration, for it appears in many cases to be all but an impossible feat for so large a bird. Despite the opinion of the "Spectator" that only male birds have voices! the hen Cuckoo sings the call quite as well as the male, whom she closely resembles, though less in size. Small birds are often seen following in the wake of the Cuckoo's flight, but we have failed to detect the signs of rage or attack usually stated to be visible on the part of the followers. Cuckoos' eggs are comparatively small —not larger than those of the sky lark. Lloyd states that in Scandinavia a belief exists that if maidens hear the Cuckoo fasting they become charmed, and will sure to be wedded before the year is out. The bird delays its visit to us until the spring is fairly set in, and when the summer begins to wane it takes its departure to other climes, where spring and summer are commencing. may thus be said to always bask in the sun's smile It "Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year." APRIL 15TH. THE EARTH BEETLE (Carabus) now emerges from its winter retreat; its first care is to accurately cleanse every part from particles of mould and dust, so that its grave suit of black may show its gloss in the sunbeams to the best advantage. Purity of vesture appears to be distinctly impressed upon all animated nature, and the Beetles, notwithstanding their office, are no exception to the general rule; they go about the earth with polished cases as clean as though their lives were spent in air. The species of Beetles are exceedingly numerous and diversified in form; and though wanting in the beauty of the butterfly or the economy of the bee, they have many points of curious interest. A slight examination will show how exquisitely their structure is adapted to the offices required of them. The anatomy of one of these humble insects, Cuvier says, "is a spectacle altogether transporting by its delicacy and regularity." By "the poor Beetle that we tread upon" we are taught of the power and wisdom that "Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent."-POPE. If Beetles, by their solidity of form, are placed at the head of the insect world; their history is both curious and instructive. Many have no doubt seen the long soft worm-like larvæ with six legs, the body divided into rings or segments, pursuing its destined course. This condition duly fulfilled, it prepares in the earth a curious little oval chamber for the pupa state. it is now examined, all the parts of the future insect may be clearly traced the legs, wings, &c., enveloped in separate sheaths; at last the final change takes place, and we have the perfect insect; the head with two horn-like appendages and eyes of marvellous structure; the upper pair of wings are not intended for flight; they form a sheath under which the true wings are neatly folded; the legs and wings are attached to the thorax. Kirby, in his Bridgewater Treatise, says, "Of all |