[088] The origin of the Daisy—­When Christ was three years old his mother wished to twine him a birthday wreath.  But as no flower was growing out of doors on Christmas eve, not in all the promised land, and as no made up flowers were to be bought, Mary resolved to prepare a flower herself.  To this end she took a piece of bright yellow silk which had come down to her from David, and ran into the same, thick threads of white silk, thread by thread, and while thus engaged, she pricked her finger with the needle, and the pure blood stained some of the threads with crimson, whereat the little child was much affected.  But when the winter was past and the rains were come and gone, and when spring came to strew the earth with flowers, and the fig tree began to put forth her green figs and the vine her buds, and when the voice or the turtle was heard in the land, then came Christ and took the tender plant with its single stem and egg shaped leaves and the flower with its golden centre and rays of white and red, and planted it in the vale of Nazareth.  Then, taking up the cup of gold which had been presented to him by the wise men of the East, he filled it at a neighbouring fountain, and watered the flower and breathed upon it.  And the plant grew and became the most perfect of plants, and it flowers in every meadow, when the snow disappears, and is itself the snow of spring, delighting the young heart and enticing the old men from the village to the fields.  From then until now this flower has continued to bloom and although it may be plucked a hundred times, again it blossoms—­Colshorn’s Deutsche Mythologie furs Deutsche Volk.

[089] The Gorse is a low bush with prickly leaves growing like a juniper.  The contrast of its very brilliant yellow pea shaped blossoms with the dark green of its leaves is very beautiful.  It grows in hedges and on commons and is thought rather a plebeian affair.  I think it would make quite an addition to our garden shrubbery.  Possibly it might make as much sensation with us (Americans) as our mullein does in foreign green-houses,—­Mrs. Stowe.

[090] George Town.

[091] The hill trumpeter.

[092] Nutmeg and Clove plantations.

[093] Leigh Hunt, in the dedication of his Stories in Verse to the Duke of Devonshire speaks of his Grace as “the adorner of the country with beautiful gardens, and with the far-fetched botany of other climates; one of whom it may be said without exaggeration and even without a metaphor, that his footsteps may be traced in flowers.”

[094] The following account of a newly discovered flower may be interesting to my readers.  “It is about the size of a walnut, perfectly white, with fine leaves, resembling very much the wax plant.  Upon the blooming of the flower, in the cup formed by the leaves, is the exact image of a dove lying on its back with its wings extended.  The peak of the bill and the eyes are plainly to be seen and a small leaf before the flower arrives at maturity forms the outspread tail.  The leaf can be raised or shut down with the finger without breaking or apparently injuring it until the flower reaches its bloom, when it drops,”—­Panama Star.