of the Island of Rhodes, which takes its Mid-Lent, or Mothering Sunday, was pansion. The shape is that of the briar believed by Linnæus and by other travel Now for the St. John's wort, with which so many superstitions are associated. the Linnæan system it occupies the whole of a British class and order, Polyadelphia, Polyandria. Naturally it ranks with the Hypericaceae. The common St. John's wort, Hypericum perforatum, is the one most generally found. The stem is twoedged; its leaves are blunt, and appear to because of the numerous transparent glands be perforated (hence its specific name) scattered over them. It has minute black dots on the tips of the calyx and corolla, and sometimes of the leaves also. The sta mens are many, the filaments very fine, and united at the base into three or five sets. The flowers are bright yellow and have an agreeable resinous odour. There are various species of Hypericum, and some of them do not flower till August, or late in July. There is a marsh St. John's wort, HyperPerhaps one of the most delightful qualicum e'odes, a hairy, and a mountain St. ities of the rose is its fragrance after death: The rose, also, bore its part in the scarcely yet exploded superstitions of Midsummer-eve, A young girl plucks a rose on this particular evening, and carefully puts its aside, secure from light and air. On the 31st of December she again brings it forth. If its hue be altered, her lover is insincere; but if the faded petals still retain their crimson colour, he is true and constant, and they will in due season become husband and wife. "Rich beyond the rest. E'en when it dies Dr. Watts' celebrated lines are too well known to need quotation here. John's wort, and others. The most elegant of all is certainly the H. pulchrum, or up right St. John's wort, with reddish slender stem, fine shining yellow filaments, and scarlet anthers. Whether only one or all of this species were supposed to possess the mystic virtues ascribed to the Hypericum, I cannot cer tainly discover; but I fancy old herbalists sadly confounded one with another, which, on the whole, is not to be wondered at, since their similarity is puzzling enough even to a careful observer. it There is also a little English flower called the "rock rose," which blooms at this season. Actually it is no rose at all, belonging naturally to the Cistaceae, and by Linuxan arrangement to the class and order Polyandria, Monogynia. It is the Cistus heliThe St. John's wort was supposed to exanthemum of botanists, and is a beautiful pel demons and keep away evil spirits; little flower, with its clear yellow crum- was also an antidote against sorcerers, pled petals growing singly or in clusters on witches, and wizards. Its value, therefore, rocky places, in calcareous soils. Its blos- in days of ignorance, may readily be con som is very frail and delicate, and gives you ceived; nay, it was even believed that the the idea of being wrinkled, from having plants protected from thunder and lightbeen crowded-up in the calyx before ex-ning: no wonder, then, that they were so esteemed and held in deepest veneration! On St. John's-eve people used to dress their houses with it, and hang it over their doors; nor was the superstion confined to our own country, France and Germany also observing the same usages. The following lines are translated from a German poem, and at the risk of repeating what is perhaps tolerably well circulated, I shall, for the sake of those who may not have met with the verses, conclude our floral gossip for this month by transcribing them: "The young maid stole through the cottage door, And blushed as she sought the plant of power. Thou silver glowworm, oh! lend me thy light; I must gather the mystic St. John's wort tonight The wonderful herb whose leaf will decide And the glowworm came With its silvery flame, Through the night of St. John, And soon has the young maid her love-knot tied. "With noiseless tread To her chamber she sped, Where the spect. al moon her white beams shed. 'Bloom here, bloom here, thou flowret of power. To deck the young bride in her bridal hour.' But it drooped its head, that plant of power, And died the mute death of the voiceless flower, And a withered leaf on the ground it lay, More meet for a burial than a bridal day. "And when a year was passed away Pale on her bier the young maid lay, And the glowworm came, With its silvery flame, And sparkled and shone Through the night of St. John, And they closed the chill grave o'er the maid's cold clay." NOTE-The first rose, I find, is by heathen writers ascribed to supernatural origin. It sprang from the earth when the blood of Adonis was shed after his conflict with the wild-boar-at least, so says an ancient classic. Whether this was the actual rose presented to Harpocrates, we are left to conjecture. Those graceful superstitions of old sometimes contradict each other most unmercifully. It is also averred that Venus changed Adonis after death into the flower anemone. "Well-grounded Hope, like the Glastonbury thorn, blossoms in the depth of winter. It is like money out at interest, which is continually augmenting; while false hope is like stock, the capital of which is being continually invaded, until the last pound is ready to be consumed." CAPE COD. BY REV. J. P. KIMBALL, FALMOUTH. LET a stranger go down the Cape from Falmouth (America) to Provincetown, a distance of seventy-five miles, and take pains to become acquainted with the people, and he will find that they retain many of the customs of their ancestors, and apparently all of their peculiar names. Bible names abound; and it would seem as though there must have been great familiarity with the sacred volume in past generations. Not only the apostles and patriarchs, but also all the prophets, major and minor, have their namesakes. And it sometimes seems as though it must be difficult for small boys to carry about such weighty appellations. The girls, too, not only commemorate the fair ones of the Hebrew commonwealth, but if names mean anything, stand as the representatives of all the virtues and most of the graces. The business of the people is mostly done away from home, unless, indeed, you call the ocean the home of the men of the Cape. Almost everything speaks to you of the sea. Even the weathercocks are all whales or sword-fish. Boys scarcely large enough to walk are launching their little boats wheresoever they can find a bucket of water, and they very soon learn to manage them in the most approved style; and as soon as they are ten or twelve years old, they are anxious to be off upon a voyage. The kind of voyage depends upon the locality in which they live. Some communities are almost entirely occupied with the whaling business; others are in the casting trade; some go long voyages in merchantmen; while perhaps the greater portion are fishermen. The boy who goes whaling leaves his home at the age of fourteen, and is gone perhaps three or four years; then, after a brief visit at home, he is off again. At the close of the second voyage very likely he takes a wife, places her in a suug home, and then leaves her to take care of it, and perhaps does not spend more than three or four years with his friends before he is a man in middle life. His ambition is to become master of a whale-ship, and then t earn enough to make him and his family | bog is to the native of Cape Cod. Just comfortable for the rest of his days. And in general he succeeds in what he undertakes. It is hard to leave dear ones, and all the delights of home, for an absence of long years; and it is hard for those who are left behind to wait many months before they can even receive letters from the absent; but all are looking forward to the time when the sailor will not need to go another voyage. clear a peat swamp-you need not go far to find one-of its roots and stumps, smooth off its surface, and cover it with beach sand, and then set the vines upon it; take good care of it for a year or two, and you may get abundantly paid for your labour. When the crop is obtained it is a fine one, for Cape Cod cranberries have a European reputation. And if it were not for the worms, and the insects, and the drought, and the frost, and such like drawbacks, it would not be long be their place in the market alongside of copper stocks and oil-wells. The cran berry has made the fortune of some mea, but others have found that a bog is a place where it is possible to sink money. Those who are in the merchant service, except that their voyages are generally shorter, have substantially the same ex-fore peat-bogs and beach-sand would take perience. The coasters go in smaller craft, and spend their winters at home, and the hardy fishermen do the same. There are towns where, out of two or three hundred young men, scarce half-adozen will be at home in the summer. The herring fishery--if one may judge They are perfectly familiar with exposure by the interest manifested in it at the and hardship. They know when they go annual town meetings-has a large place forth that they may never see their in the affections of the people. Aftet wives and mothers again-for scores of excited discussions solemn votes are widows have been made in a single vil- passed by the united wisdom of the town lage by a dreadful storm; and still they in regard to the manner of catching go fearlessly out upon the deep and make fish, the persons who shall be allowed the the best sailors that the world has ever privilege, and the pains and penalties seen. Among the captains on Cape Cod which shall be visited upon those who -and there are thousands of them-are disregard the rules. It is scarcely won many for whom no ship is too good-derful that cynical lookers-on should style many to whom have been safely entrusted the herring the "Cape Cod turkey." the most precious freight both of property and life. Other fish can be had for the catching, and the clam banks discount freely at low The Cape people are patriotic. They tide; but still in many places fish is a have sent not a few brave officers and rarity, and the people live as though they soldiers to stand as a wall against rebel- were a hundred miles from the sea-shore lion, and many homes have been made Those who do not go out to the Grand sad because of loved ones who will re- Bank fishing, as a general rule, drop their turn no more. But in general men pre-line for sport rather than for profit; and fer the navy to the army. They are at in the hot weather strangers sometimes home on salt water, and you will find join them, for, to those who are not them with Farragut and Porter, and troubled with sea-sickness, there is said wherever else there is work to be done. to be health as well as pleasure in it. So much of the work is done at sea that the towns and villages do not generally have a busy appearance. Men mean to enjoy themselves when they are at home, and are very much inclined to take their ease. In fact, the Cape, in itself considered, is a place where it is much easier to spend money than it is to make it, and yet it is not without its sources of wealth. What the gold mines are in the eve of the Californian, that the cranberry "There is hardly a more effectual remedy against anger than patience and considera tion. Let but the first fervour abate, and that mist which darkens the mind will be hour does much in the most violent cases either lessened or dispelled. A day, nay an and perchance totally suppresses it. Time discovers the truth of things, and turns that into judgment which at first was anger."-Seneca. SOMETHING OF THE MARVELLOUS. As we all sat round the fire the first evening after my arrival at Ava, Harry Vivien said to me-"By-the-bye, I don't think I ever asked how you slept last night?" Now I was rather surprised at his question. True, I had never stayed there before; for though I knew the Viviens well, Harry's father had only succeeded to the property a few months before this my first visit to Ava,-yet I always did sleep like a top, and why should last night be an exception to the general rule? So I answered in a perplexed tone "I slept very well-rather better than usual, in fact, for I was very tired." "Did you see or hear anything parti cular?" "No! What should I see or hear? Is the house supposed to be haunted?" "Of course it is! I believe there are ghosts from the cellars to the attics." "Now, Harry, I won't have you frightening Beatrice with horrors; she won't sleep all night," said his mother. "Oh, please, Mrs. Vivien," I urged, "I am so fond of ghost stories, and not at all nervous.' "Please do, manima !" said Helen, seconding me; and the rest of the party chimed in with a chorus of "Please do!" "Well, if you wish it," said easy Mrs. Vivien; "but remember, don't come to me for pity if any of you sleep badly." "Certainly not!" said Hugh, the second "Catch me sleeping badly. Go it Harry, old fellow; I back you to invent bogies against anyone!" "Invent!" growled Harry; I tell it to you as 'twas told to me; and if you won't believe well! it's no fault of mine. Put out the lamp, Tom; I can't talk of ghosts in the light." Tom-an urchin of eleven-did as he was desired, and that troublesome Harry having pulled my chair into what he considered a comfortable position (by which I suppose he meant the seat next himself, for he is very conceited), and fetched me a footstool, silenced some grumblings of the girls at their enforced idleness, with "It's a good trial of patience, and I'm sure you all work too much-poking bits of steel in and out for no earthly use that I can see. Besides, I can't tell ghost-stories excepting by fire-light." By which you may guess that he knew very little about what was what; and that he was terribly spoilt by his sisters. He crossed one leg over the other in his usual style, threw himself lazily back in his arm-chair, and with a mischievous twinkle in his handsome brown eyes, began: "First of all I must urge implicit faith on my admiring audience. It is essential to the enjoyment of ghost-stories." "Certainly," said Ethel; "but how did you hear them yourself, Harry?" "Well, you must know that this morning I took an enormous dose of Hallam, and fearing it might injure my delicate constitution, I determined to go out and recruit my shattered forces with a cigar. I went down to the stile at the end of the long meadow, and was sitting there very contentedly, when old John Fry came by. 'Well, Master Harry,' he said, 'how be you, sir, and all the family?' Quite well, thank you,' I answered, and how are the rheumatics?' There was a general peal of laughter. "How did you know he had the rheumatics, Harry?" said his father. "Hallo, father! I did not know you were awake! Oh, I guessed it. However, he said pretty well,' and we talked some time. At last he said, 'And you ain't a seen any queer soights, nor heard any rampaganous noises up yonder?' I told him none that I had heard of, and asked whether there was any ghoststories connected with this house. "Lor' bless you, yes, sir! In your greatgrandfeyther's time not a man or woman durst go about the house at midnight." But I can't go on with his dialect, so you must have the story in my own language; they are all more or less connected with the chapel behind the house, and the bedroom which opened into it. The house, or at least part of it, is very old; the foundation dates as far back as Henry III., and the owner at that time was Sir Thomas Legh. Sir Thomas was a valiant soldier, and a loyal subject, so he was chosen to conduct an embassy to one of the foreign courts. (You must not suppose John told me the historical part; I found it in an old history of Denshire this afternoon). Now the knight had a young wife whom he wanted to take with him; but the king forbad it, so poor Maude remained at home, and night after night she prayed for her absent lord before the chapel altar. At last the news came that Sir Thomas had been thrown into prison, and was in danger of death. So Lady Maude went up to town to petition the king to save him; and when he promised, she returned to her home, and spent her days in praying for Sir Thomas. But months and months passed, and no news came, and at last only the worst. Sir Thomas was dead and when his widow heard it, she put on her widow's weeds, and went as of old to the chapel. Her attendants saw her kneel as usual before the altar, and left her alone with her deep grief. She never rose up again. When they returned to seek her she was dead. But they say that her ghost still wanders about the chapel, and may often be seen kneeling before the altar, dressed in black. It is considered a sign of coming grief to the beholder, and old John declares Aunt Margaret saw it before Uncle Arthur's death." "I have heard her say the same," said Mr. Vivien; but she had been very anxious about him for some time, and perhaps had heard this tradition; so we must put down something to imagination." "Well, Harry, what was the other tale?" said Helen. "There were two more, but I can't remember the middle one, so must go on to the end. In the time of Charles, the house belonged to a Sir Arthur Gwynne, the generation of the Leghs being extinct. He was was a staunch cavalier, and noted among the late king's adherents. Now in his youth he had had a great friend, Henry Vere. They had been at school together, and at the same college; but at the beginning of the civil war their politics proved different. Each went his own way, and for years they did not meet. At last, after the fatal battle of Naseby, as Sir Arthur strode over the bodies of the dead, in attempt to rally his men, his eye fell upon one already stiff in death. It was Henry Vere in the dress of a Puritan divine. Even in the tumult Sir Arthur stopped to see if he could render any help. It was too late: his friend was dead. "When the troops dispersed he went to Ava, and after travelling several days reached it about night-fall, and wearied with his exertions threw himself on his bed in his clothes. It was in the rem which had belonged to Lady Maude, a joining the chapel; but he was no believe in ghosts, and too weary to think. He f asleep, but soon awoke, with what my formant called an awful grewing, by which, I suppose, we may understand. creeping sensation.' He looked up: atthe foot of the bed stood the figure of his dea friend, waving his hand with an impatic gesture. Sir Arthur persuaded himself was all imagination, and the figure vanist ing, he fell asleep, but soon awoke; the stood the spirit as before, and clasped hands in an attitude of supplication; still disbelieved, and fell asleep. When next awoke it had moved, and standing side him, said in a hollow voice, Fly, it be too late!' The knight sprang up, unbolting the casement, listened. The was a sound in the distance; nearer us nearer it came, still nearer; the tramp horses. Hastily he unfastened the cha door, and descending the staircase, gai a wood near the house, and concealis himself watched for the new comers. they approached the house he distinguis the heavy dress of the parliamentary by the light of the moon. Had he dea another minute he could not have escape As it was he reached the shore in safe and after a time fled to France, the with difficulty, on account of the vig watch kept by the Roundheads on exc vessel. Ava was nearly destroyed." "Prayers!" announced the butler, com into the room as the story reached happy conclusion. As we crossed the bi on our way to the dining-room, Harry to me How astonished old Fudge must b been at finding us in the dark; he will double oil and wick to the lamp to-n row." We went up to our rooms almost din after prayers, with many injunctions? to dream of ghosts, and a promise that the following day I should see the chape Helen remained talking for some t after she had left me I sat for a longt occupied with pleasant thoughts. The alisation of a day-dream of many standing seemed at hand, for as I came stairs Harry had whispered something me which had made me very happy, brushed my hair lazily, and made pict out of the blazing coal. Suddenly a clock (which I supposed a belong to the chapel) struck twelve; sta had the sounds died away when I he noise behind me, then another and an |