tie, why he actually seems to wink!"

"I declare I'll tell him!" said Mrs Gilmour, enjoying the joke none the
less at the fancied resemblance. "Sure he'd be hoighly delighted."

Then, as they wound round back to the dell through the dense shrubbery,
they re-crossed the little rivulet which they had twice passed over
before.

On the banks of this, although it was too small almost to have "banks,"
properly speaking, Mrs Gilmour pointed out to Nell the "great water
plantain," with its sprigs of little lilac blossoms and beautiful green
leaves, like those of the lily of the valley somewhat. The plant is
said to be used in Russia as a cure for hydrophobia, the good lady
explained; though she added that she could not vouch personally for its
virtues.

Not far from this, too, they found another very curious plant, called in
some places the "cuckoo pint," and in others the "wake robin," or, more
commonly, "lords and ladies." The leaves of this are of a glossy dark-
green and the flower very like the leaf; only, more curved and tinted
inside, with a hue of pale buff that becomes pinkish at the extremities,
the centre pistil being of the same colour. It belongs to the arum
family.

Following the course of the brook, Nellie, a little way on, spied out a
regular bed of the forget-me-not; when Mrs Gilmour told her the old
legend connected with the flower.

How a knight and a lady were sitting by the side of a river; and, on the
lady expressing a desire to have some of the bright blue blossoms "to
braid in her bonny brown hair," the gallant knight at once dashed in the
stream to gratify her wishes. He secured a bunch of the flowers; but,
on turning to regain the shore, the current overcame him; and, as the
old song goes--

"Then the blossoms blue to the bank he threw,
Ere he sunk in the eddying tide;
And `Lady, I'm gone, thine own love true,
Forget-me-not,' he cried.

"The farewell pledge the lady caught;
And hence, as legends say,
The flower's a sign to awaken thoughts
Of friends who are far away!"

"How nice!" cried Nellie-- "How very nice!"

"Not for the poor knight, though," said her aunt. "However, here,
dearie, is another plant not quite so romantic, the old brown scabious,
or `turf-weed.' It is a great favourite with bees, while its roots are
supposed to have valuable medicinal properties, which the country people
well know and estimate at their right worth. In some places they call
it t