ouds; while the Queen herself at
times laid her own finger upon the
larger of these, and braided them with
snow and crimson. And then, how
loyal everything seemed to be on the
earth beneath! How each flower that
had been asleep all night instantly
rose on awaking, and, in the most
duteous manner uncovering its head,
prepared to take its place in the royal
procession. The more gorgeous ones
of the garden led the way, with their
velvet tassels, and silken brocades, and
pendants of opal and turquoise; some
apparently carrying chalices filled with
nectar. Then the fields and hedgerows,
in their rough, rustic, plebeian fashion,
with their fustian jackets and smock-frocks,
said--"We shall not be behind
our betters;" so their buttercups and
wood-anemones, speedwell and scarlet
pimpernel, the meadow violet with its
modest blue, the cowslip with its burnished
cells, the daisy with its "golden
eye and white silver eyelashes," all did
fealty to their adored Queen. Some
went down on their knees; others doffed
their caps; others smiled bewitchingly;
others could do nothing but waft sweet
perfumes. There were even bands of
very varied music and musicians, all
assisting with their efforts in swelling
the Queen's Anthem. The brook,
though it had sung all night, and had
need of a little respite, seemed to say--"No,
I shall go warbling on; she shall
have my very best treble of a ripple."
And then there were minor performers
in this nature-choir. The Blackbird
and Redbreast, Goldfinch and Linnet,
and Chaffinch, each took part with
striking effect. Even the Swallow
in his own quiet way twittered, and the
Tomtit chattered, and the Beetle
droned, and the Bee hummed, and the
big Dragon-fly, in armour of brightest
cobalt, whirred; and the Grasshopper,
poor fellow! did his very uttermost,--he
chirruped, he could do no more.
The Butterfly, who could not raise
a single note, came out in his best
plush court-dress of gold, vermilion,
and blue, dainty little silent outrider
that he is, waking up any exceptional
sleepers. He carried, truth to
say, his zeal sometimes too far; as
when I saw him unjustly reproaching
the Foxglove for having bells and not
ringing them, a thing they were never
meant to do. Even the Spider hung
his silver-tissued web from spray to
spray; as if he had weaved a gossamer
mantle, in case his Queen might like to
use it in the chill of early dawn. (_See
Frontispiece_.)

Well, the latter--I mean the Q