The tall, sword-shaped leaves which all spread out from the bulb may be said to be the means by which it breathes, for they conduct the air into the numerous tiny air-cells of which the plant is full; and a plant, as you well know, can no more live without air, drink, and its own kind of food than you can. In the midst rises the one long green stem, with its moist, juicy inside, through which the air and sap are conducted to nourish the blossom. At the end is a sort of sheath, in which the blossom was safely packed up when first it budded forth, until, as spring came on, the bud swelled and swelled, till the sheath could hold it no longer, but opened at the side, and let the round bud drop out and hang down by its little slender footstalk.

Now comes what we call the flower, and here you must learn several hard names, if you wish to be able to understand what I am going to tell you about plants. The prettily coloured or white leaves of a flower are properly named petals. Of these in the snowdrop there are three. There are three larger ones outside, curved and perfectly white. These are sepals; and there are three lesser ones within, with a notch in the middle, and marked with green, which are the petals. That is, if you have taken a single snowdrop; if you have a double one I can go no further, for there the petals, which are of no real use except to protect the important parts of the flower within, are so multiplied that they have used up all the strength of the plant, and even consumed these really useful parts, so that, as everybody knows, a double flower never produces good fruit, but only rejoices in its own finery for a time. Not unlike some people that I could tell you of.

But we will suppose you have a good, quiet, modest

snowdrop, with its green and white robes in good order, and put to their proper use, of guarding and sheltering what is within them. Inside of the three green-marked petals you will find seven little threads, all perched upon a green cushion, called sometimes the germ and sometimes the receptacle. The middle one of these is straight, with a forked top, and is called the pistil, the six others are the stamens, and each of them is surmounted by a sort of long narrow case, called an anther, filled with a kind of dust, named pollen.

This pollen, as the anthers open, is shed upon the pistil, and, passing along it to the receptacle, there turns to seed; the petals die away, and the receptacle swells, day by day, as you will see if you watch carefully, till at last it grows to a capsule, like a bag, or rather a purse. You may have seen purses divided into compartments for gold, silver, and copper, and the capsule of the snowdrop is divided something in the same manner into three cells, each of them full of round seeds, and every one of these seeds has a minute plant wrapped up inside of it.

Happy the children who live where snowdrops grow wild, and very proud of them they are, for it is not often that they are so found; indeed, some people think that it is not an English flower at all, but has only made its escape, as we may say, from gardens. I know of a dell, in the garden of what was once a convent, which is full of these beautiful flowers, in such numbers that one might gather for half the day without making it look much less white.

But we must take our leave of the "Fair maids of February," and go on to their first cousin, the crocus, the long thready leaves of which, with the white stripe in the middle, shoot out in readiness for spring, before even the

Christmas holidays are over. In an early spring, crocuses are in blossom before the end of February, their dry withered sheath hanging down over the bulb, and their rich golden-yellow flowers seeming almost to reflect the brightness of the sunbeams, in their depth of rich glowing yellow. And how the bees delight in rolling deep within them seeking for the honey which is stored in the cup, or nectary,1 as it is called, at the bottom of the petals. All crocuses have three petals and three sepals— but these are as bright as the petals-bulbs, long narrow leaves, and a sheath, but they differ from the snowdrop in having no stem, and only three stamens instead of six. The pistil, too, has a pretty branching crown, called a stigma, and the petals are all of the same size and shape. The brilliant yellow spring crocus grows wild in Syria, and has only been cultivated in England for about two hundred years. It shows its love for the bright sun of its native land by only opening on sunshiny days, and closing up fast in frost and fog, though, like a sweet gentle temper, it is always ready to open again on the first encouragement.

Its brothers, in purple and in striped coats, are not quite so pretty to look at from a distance, though, when close to them, they are very elegant flowers; the long, forked, orange-coloured stigma of the purple one shows off to great advantage with the colour of the petals. Some crocuses have yellow sepals and petals striped with brown. One of the prettiest of all has white petals, and sepals striped with purple.

The crocus root dies away every year after forming a new bulb, or sometimes two, close by its side, and thus the plant gradually changes its place till it comes quite 1 So called from nectar, a sweet drink.

snowdrop, with its green and white robes in good order, and put to their proper use, of guarding and sheltering what is within them. Inside of the three green-marked petals you will find seven little threads, all perched upon a green cushion, called sometimes the germ and sometimes the receptacle. The middle one of these is straight, with a forked top, and is called the pistil, the six others are the stamens, and each of them is surmounted by a sort of long narrow case, called an anther, filled with a kind of dust, named pollen.

This pollen, as the anthers open, is shed upon the pistil, and, passing along it to the receptacle, there turns. to seed; the petals die away, and the receptacle swells, day by day, as you will see if you watch carefully, till at last it grows to a capsule, like a bag, or rather a purse. You may have seen purses divided into compartments for gold, silver, and copper, and the capsule of the snowdrop is divided something in the same manner into three cells, each of them full of round seeds, and every one of these seeds has a minute plant wrapped up inside of it.

Happy the children who live where snowdrops grow wild, and very proud of them they are, for it is not often that they are so found; indeed, some people think that it is not an English flower at all, but has only made its escape, as we may say, from gardens. I know of a dell, in the garden of what was once a convent, which is full of these beautiful flowers, in such numbers that one might gather for half the day without making it look much less white.

But we must take our leave of the "Fair maids of February," and go on to their first cousin, the crocus, the long thready leaves of which, with the white stripe in the middle, shoot out in readiness for spring, before even the

1

Christmas holidays are over. In an early spring, crocuses are in blossom before the end of February, their dry withered sheath hanging down over the bulb, and their rich golden-yellow flowers seeming almost to reflect the brightness of the sunbeams, in their depth of rich glowing yellow. And how the bees delight in rolling deep within them seeking for the honey which is stored in the cup, or nectary, as it is called, at the bottom of the petals. All crocuses have three petals and three sepals— but these are as bright as the petals-bulbs, long narrow leaves, and a sheath, but they differ from the snowdrop in having no stem, and only three stamens instead of six. The pistil, too, has a pretty branching crown, called a stigma, and the petals are all of the same size and shape. The brilliant yellow spring crocus grows wild in Syria, and has only been cultivated in England for about two hundred years. It shows its love for the bright sun of its native land by only opening on sunshiny days, and closing up fast in frost and fog, though, like a sweet gentle temper, it is always ready to open again on the first encouragement.

Its brothers, in purple and in striped coats, are not quite so pretty to look at from a distance, though, when close to them, they are very elegant flowers; the long, forked, orange-coloured stigma of the purple one shows off to great advantage with the colour of the petals. Some crocuses have yellow sepals and petals striped with brown. One of the prettiest of all has white petals, and sepals striped with purple.

The crocus root dies away every year after forming a new bulb, or sometimes two, close by its side, and thus the plant gradually changes its place till it comes quite 1 So called from nectar, a sweet drink.