Part 19

Burns.

ORCHIS.... A Belle.

The Butterfly Orchis is rather rare except where there is a chalky soil. The Spider Orchis has gained its name from the great resemblance it bears to one of those large, fat-bodied garden spiders, which are often noticed for the singular beauty of the markings on their backs. Another is so very like a fly, that it is named the Fly Orchis; another is like a lizard, or some strange reptile, and the flowers being yellow, green, and purple, and twisted in and about one another in a very odd way, it really looks like some horrible group of queer living creatures. One, from being fancied like a man, is called Man Orchis; another, very gayly spotted, and ornamented with a helmet-like appendage, is the Military Orchis; another is called Bee Orchis. Bishop Mant thus alludes to some of these:

Well boots it the thick-mantled leas To traverse: if boon nature grant, To crop the insect-seeming plant, The vegetable Bee; or nigh Of kin, the long-horned Butterfly, White, or his brother purple pale, Scenting alike the evening gale; The Satyr flower, the pride of Kent, Of Lizard form, and goat-like scent.

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No wonder that cheek in its beauty transcendent, Excelleth the beauty of others by far; No wonder that eye is so richly resplendent, For your heart is a rose and your soul is a star.

Mrs. Osgood.

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What right have you, madam, gazing in your shining mirror daily, Getting so by heart your beauty, which all others must adore; While you draw the golden ringlets down your fingers, to vow gayly, You will wed no man that’s only good to God,--and nothing more.

Miss Barrett.

BOX.... Stoicism.

The common Box, of which our hedge is formed, is indigenous in England, preferring the chalky hills of Surrey and Kent for its residence, but flourishing well on other soils. It is one of the most useful evergreen shrubs we possess, and especially as it will grow under the drip and shadow of other trees, as you know is the case with our hedge. It is found in most European countries, from Britain southwards, also about Mount Caucasus, Persia, China, Cochin China, and America. It was formerly much more common in England than now, having disappeared under the spread of agriculture. Box-hill, in Surrey, is named from this tree, and is a conical elevation covered with a wood of Box-trees, some of large size. Boxley in Kent, and Boxwell in Gloucestershire, are also named from it. The leaf and general appearance of the tree are too familiar to require any description. The scent of the spring blossoms is rather powerful, and to some persons unpleasant. The timber is very valuable, it is sold by weight, and, being very hard and smooth, and not apt to warp, is well adapted for many nice and delicate purposes. In the days of good old Evelyn, it appears to have been as much used as at present, for he says, “It is good for the turner, engraver, carver, mathematical instrument maker, comb and pipe, or flute-maker, and the roots for the inlayer and cabinet-maker. Of box are made wheels, sheaves, pins, pegs for musical instruments, nut-crackers, button-moulds, weavers’ shuttles, hollar-sticks, bump-sticks, and dressers for the shoemaker, rulers, rolling-pins, pestles, mall-balls, beetles, tops, chessmen, tables, screws, bobbins for bone-lace, spoons, knife-handles, but especially combs.” Most of those engravings in books, called wood-cuts, are done upon Box wood, and for that purpose English Box is superior to any other, though a great portion of what is used in this country comes from the Levant. The ancients used combs made of Box-wood, and also instruments to be played on with the mouth. The Romans used to adorn their gardens with it, clipped into form, as we find from mention being made of clipped Box-trees by their writers. It was formerly much cut in this manner here, and was ranked next to the Yew for its capabilities of taking artificial and grotesque forms; but except a few ancient hedges of Box, like our own, and those at Castle Bromwich Hall, where the Yew hedges are also preserved, there are not many vestiges of its former garden-glory remaining. A dwarf kind is used for making a neat and firm edging to flower borders, for which nothing answers so well, or produces so proper an effect.

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Though youth be past, and beauty fled, The constant heart its pledge redeems, Like Box, that guards the flowerless bed, And brighter from the contrast seems.

Mrs. Hale.

NARCISSUS AND DAFFODIL.... Self-Love.

There are several species of the Narcissus. The Yellow Narcissus is better known as the Daffodil, and bears much resemblance to the Yellow Lily. The Poetic Narcissus is the largest of the species, and may be distinguished by the crimson border of the very shallow and almost flat cup of the nectary. Shakspeare, in his Winter’s Tale, speaks of

Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and taste The winds of March with beauty.

The ancients attributed the origin of the Narcissus to the metamorphosis of a beautiful youth of that name, who, having slighted the love of the nymph Echo, became enamoured of his own image, which he beheld in a fountain, and pined to death in consequence.

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I wandered lonely, as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden Daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of the bay; Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee; A poet could not but be gay In such a joyful company: I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth to me the show had brought. For oft when on my couch I lie, In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude. And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the Daffodils.

Wordsworth.

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Nature’s laws must be obeyed, And this is one she strictly laid On every soul which she has made, Down from our earliest mother: Be self your first and greatest care, From all reproach the darling spare, And any blame that she should bear, Put off upon another.

Miss Gould.

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The pale Narcissus Still feeds upon itself; but, newly blown, The nymphs will pluck it from its tender stalk, And say, “Go, fool, and to thy image talk.”