Clos'd is the pink-eyed pimpernel, Every part of this plant, reader, is, in a microscope, singularly beautiful, and will amply repay the trouble of minute investigation: the fruit is a globe, divisible into two hemispheres; the corolla appears as if covered with spangles, the stamens with purple and gold, and the leaves are elegantly spotted underneath. Nothing can be more exquisite than the symmetry of all its parts, nor more brilliant than the colours, with which it is invested and adorned. But it is not alone the simple pimpernel, that elicits our regard, every leaf and flower, even the minutest particle and smallest insect, when submitted to a magnifier, astonish us with new discoveries. What wonders of creation has the, microscope brought to light! Yet, who could have imagined, when a few tempest-driven mariners kindled a fire on the sands of Beotia, that the appropriation of a new strange substance left among the extinguished embers of that fire, would in after times, as Cuvier beautifully observes, open to the naturalist a miniature world, as populous and rich in wonders, as that, which alone seems granted to his unassisted senses; that it would one day assist the astronomer in discovering new suns and systems, and in numbering the stars of the milky way; in fine, that its most simple and direct appropriation, as common grass, would enable the inhabitants of the Baltic to cultivate, beneath the frosts of the Polar regions, the delicious fruits of the torrid zone? OCTOBER. "Where are the songs of spring? Ah, where are they? KEATS. THE autumnal heavens are now clear and cold, the dews lie thick upon the meadows, and hang like pearls on every blade and leaf. Innumerable gossamer webs are curiously spread on the damp grass, or stretched across the hedges, as if to catch the liquid pearls, that rest upon them. The long woven threads appear like strings of smaller gems; and such, as are caught on the complete foldings of the web, beautifully reflect the prismatic colours of the rainbow. At this season, and early in the day, there is generally a great mist, and a perfect calm; not so much as a leaf is heard to rustle on the trees. such parts, as are broken into hill and dale, you In may see the fog lying in the valleys, serene as the unruffled waters of a lake, while the high hills rise like little islands covered with stubble fields, richly tinted woods, and small white cottages, whose windows glitter to the rising sun. Then succeeds the bleating of the sheep, the cheerful whistle of early labourers, and the shrill cry of wakeful birds, chasing each other through the air, or darting into the valley, where they are lost in a sea of mist. As the sun advances in the heavens, and the day grows warm, the blackbird pours forth his sweet mellifluous tones, as in the early spring; the skylark soars and warbles, the woodlark sings, and the soft cooing voice of the ring-dove sounds from the woods. The shrill cries of wild geese are also heard, occasionally, as they leave the fens, to forage on rye-lands; the rooks, too, are in motion, they begin to sport, wheel rapidly in playful circles, and repair their nests. There is much also to admire in the beautiful family of fungi. They are an appendage, and an ornament to the autumnal woodlands, and delight in sylvan moisture and decay. Few, among their vegetable brethren, may equal them in elegance and lightness, or in soft and varying tints, when spangled with heavy dews, and brightened with the beams of an October sun. We have a little glen at a short distance from the village, shaded by the deep rich pendent autumnal foliage of the beech, and enlivened by some of the loveliest of these fragile foresters. One species lifts up its ivory, or light brown head, among the bright green mosses; another trembles, from the lightness of its form, in every passing breeze; a third glitters like a cornelian, on the root of some old tree, or branch, that the wind has broken off. I know very little of this elegant and evanescent family, and therefore I cannot pretend to say what species are either rare or common in the glen; but one species I do know, and that is the fairy-ring agaric (agaricus orcades.) It grows among wild thyme, eye-bright, and the bird's-foot clover, on a beautiful lawn, that borders the Ebworth woods. Country people tell you, that the ring of deepest verdure, which marks the growth and decay of this interesting species, is trodden by nimble-footed fairies, when they prank it merrily on the glittering grass; and, surely, if these tiny people ever footed it elsewhere than in the poet's nightly fancies, no lovelier spot could they select. Above it, are sweeping woodlands, beside it, a deep glen full of beauty and repose, the woodlark warbles there his nightly carol, and a clear stream is heard to ripple over its rocky bed. Here, too, the moonbeams often shine so full and clear, and all is so beautiful and |