YELLOW PIMPERNEL.

SEE within the bushy dell,
Half hid, the yellow Pimpernel,

Beside the moss-grown runnel peep.

BISHOP MANT.

NATURE, her pencil dipt in gold,

Bedecks it in a night,

And as each petal bursts its fold,
Enamels it with light.

On its pale leaves of clearest green,
The little floweret lies,

And is to all by whom 'tis seen,

The prophet of bright skies.

LE BOUQUET DES SOUVENIRS. ADAPTED.

FLOWERS of the wild wood! your home is there, 'Mid all that is fragrant, all that is fair,

Where the wood mouse makes his home on earth,
Where gnat and butterfly have their birth,
And the breath of the wind is murmuring low,
As branches are bending to and fro !

A. PRATT.

TRUE philosophy is the handmaid of true religion, and the knowledge of the works of Nature will lead us to the knowledge of the God of nature; "the invisible things of Him" being "clearly seen by the things which are made," even His eternal power and Godhead.

BISHOP NEWTON.

THERE breathes, for those who understand,
A voice from every flower and tree;
And in the works of Nature's hand,
Lies Nature's best philosophy;
For "things invisible" are known,
By what the visible have shown.

REV. E. SMEDLEY.

THERE is a book, who runs may read,
Which heavenly truth imparts;

*

The works of God above, below,

Within us and around,
Are pages in that book, to show

How God Himself is found.

E

Keble.

SUBTERRANEOUS TREFOIL.

TREFOIL is the shamrock of Ireland. It is said that when St. Patrick first preached Christianity in Ireland, he showed the triple leaf of the trefoil, in illustration of the doctrine of the Trinity.

O SHAMROCK! pride of Erin, thou dost claim Not from her sons alone the rapture warm; Each Christian heart should kindle at the name, Fated the stubborn Pagan to disarm.

Full well he read, that holy man of old,

A mighty mystery from the humble sod;

With wondering awe they saw the saint unfold Thy triple leaf, and teach a triune God.

LE BOUQUET DES SOUVENIRS.

I SCARCELY know anything in the inanimate world which brings together, and concentrates, so many wonders of designing wisdom and benevolence, as the structure and qualities of a flower. The beauty of form and colour, the sweetness of fragrance, the delicate and skilful nature of the organization, cannot fail to excite in the reflecting mind the most lively sentiments of astonishment, and to force upon it the conviction that here without doubt is the finger of a God.

DUNCAN.

We find in all the ever-present God!

Whose power sublime, with equal wonder moves
In the small flowret bursting from the earth,
As in the sphere-crown'd eagle's towering wing.

MRS. ROBINSON.

THYME.

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme grows.

SHAKSPERE.

AND prest beneath the climbing feet,
The wild thyme there its fragrance sweet
Will yield, to gratify the smell.

BISHOP MANT.

O'ER fringed heaths, wide lawns, and mountain

steeps,

With silent step the artful Thyma creeps,

Unfolds with fragrant bloom her purple flowers, And leads with frolic hand the circling hours.

ROWDEN.

THERE's not a heath, however rude,

But hath some little flower,

To brighten up its solitude,

And scent the evening hour.

There's not a heart, however cast

By grief and sorrow down,
But hath some memory of the past,

To love and call its own,

ANON.