THE office of the corolla, like that of the calyx, is to envelop the stamina and pistilla in the centre of flowers, the organs of re-production.

For this purpose they not only first involve these most essential parts of flowers, but also close against rain, or on the approach of evening.

Some exhibit the most regular movements, and hence botanists have established an horologium, or botanical clock.

Linnæus enumerates forty-six flowers which possess this kind of property, of which the following are those most common in this 'country. LEONTODON TARAXAcum, Dandelion, opens at 5-6, closes at 8-9. HIERACIUM PILOCELLA, mouse-ear Hawkweed, VOL. XXXVIII.

opens at 8, closes at 2. SONCHUS LÆVIS, smooth Sow-thistle, at 5 and at 11-12. LACTUCA SATIVA, cultivated Lettuce, at 7 and 10. TRAGOPOGON LUTEUM, yellow Goatsbeard, at 3-5 and at 9-10. LAPSANA, Nipplewort, at 5—6 and at 10-1. NYMPHEA ALBA, white Water-lily, at 7 and 5. PAPAVER NUDICAULE, naked Poppy, at 5 and at 7. HEMEROCALLIS FULVÁ, tawny Day-lily, at 5 and at 7-8. CONVOLVULUS, at 5-6. MALVA, Mallow, at 9-10, and at 1. ARENAREA PURPUREA, purple Sandwort, at 9-10, and at 2-3, ANAGALLIS, Pimpernel, at 7-8. PORTULACA HORTENSIS, garden Purslain, at 9-10, and at 11-12. DIANTHUS PROLIFER, proliferous Pink, at 8 and at 1. CICHOREUM. Succory, at 4-5. HYPOCHÆRIS, – 3 X 2

at 6-7, and at 4-5. CREPIS, at 4-5, and at 10-11. PICRIS, at 4-5, and at 12. Field Calendula, at 9, and at 3. African Calendula, at 7, and at 3-4.

As these observations were probably made in the botanic gardens at.Upsal, they may require further attention to suit them to our climate.

Vide plate 16, 1. a. where the flower is closed, and 1. b. c. where it is open. The example is the chronicle.

The other offices of the Corolla we shall resume in our next.

THE FOUNDLING;

A TALE.

[With an elegant Engraving.] ACTS of benevolence, proceeding from exalted generosity of mind, though they may too often meet with no return from those who benefit by them but ingratitude, and produce no reward to those who perform them but the reflection that they have done good deeds, are sometimes productive, besides this invaluable recompense, of great and unexpected advantages in those occurrences of life to which the selfinterested and sordid alone direct their attention.

As Mr. Lionel Sydney was returning home one evening from a pensive walk he had taken, in which his little dog was his only companion, he found close by his door a basket, in which, on inspection, he discovered a fine male child a few months old. The poor deserted infant seemed to stretch out toward him its little arms for protection, and with persuasive Ianks to implore his compassion.

-Poor babe !' said Mr. Sydney,

is it thus that thou makest thy entrance into the world? Art thou already deserted and friendless? I must be thy friend-at least so far as to afford thee immediate assistance for the preservation of thy life in this thy helpless state, and to endeavour to find thy unnatural parent or parents, and to revive, if possible, in their breasts the ordinary feelings of humanity'.

Mr. Sydney took up the child, and carried it into his house, giving the strictest charge to his house-keeper that it should be well taken care of, till proper inquiries could be made with respect to who were its parents, and how it came to be abandoned at such an early and helpless age. These inquiries were made, but nothing could be discovered concerning it; and the child being healthy, good-humoured, and pleasing in its playful way, won so much the susceptible heart of its generous benefactor, that he seemed to be in no haste to part with it, but rather fondled it, and provided in every way for its welfare with the solicitude of an indulgent father.

Mr. Sydney, at whose door this deserted infant had the good fortune to be laid, was a gentleman of a competent but not a very large fortune, resident in Devonshire, not many miles from Plymouth. He resided on and farmed his own estate, which supplied him with what is sufficient for the wise and good man, though not with those superfluities which are required by the sons of luxury About two years before the oc currence of his finding the inno cent infant left at his door he had married a lady to whom his

heart was most affectionately and sincerely devoted, and who returned his affection with equal ardor. But transient indeed is human happiness! His beloved Maria died within a month after she had brought forth her first child, and her child soon followed her. Dreadful was the shock to the heart of Mr. Sydney he sought solitude; often wandered alone, and for a long time refused comfort. As he was now no stranger to suffering, he was ever ready to relieve the sufferings of others; and to this state of his mind may, perhaps, in some degree be attributed the kindness and affection with which he treated the hapless foundling.

At length, rather in consequence of the advice of others than from his own inclination and feelings, he became half resolved to deliver up the babe he had now for some time protected and cherished, to those high parochial dignities who are required by law to provide for infants thus abandoned, and to take care that they do not, at least not immediately, perish. But on making an application to the authorities of this kind properly con stituted, he found himself treated with so much superciliousness, and so many hints were given that he would not have made so much of a chance-child had he not pretty well known who was the father; that perceiving into what hands he must resign the helpless innocent, he determined, especially as the late severe domestic calamity he had suffered still pressed heavy on his heart, and rendered him averse even to the thoughts of a second marriage, to adopt, and bring him up as his son, He gave him the name of George, and he became one of his family.

As years passed on, young George, by his engaging person, his good sense, and the excellent disposition of mind which he continually more and more displayed, so fully secured the esteem and love of Mr. Sydney, that he could scarcely have possessed them more had he actually been his own son. When his understanding was become more mature, Mr. Sydney frequently found the advice he gave the best that could be given in the circumstances in which he was placed; and he at length trusted to his prudence, and considerably to his own advantage, almost the whole management of his affairs.

When George had attained the age of eighteen, the strong bodily powers he then possessed were exerted in the labours of the field, and otherwise, much to the profit of his generous benefactor; for though the latter had given his adopted son a good and liberal education, he only designed him to be a useful and not an idle gentleman. Having no relations but such as were rather distant, and still more rich, he intended him for the heir of the small estate he possessed, but to make it productive he knew that it was necessary he should be able to cultivate and improve it.

About the time that Mr. Sydney had formed this idea, and when George was nearly of the age above mentioned, it chanced that as they were one day riding out together, Mr. Sydney's horse took fright at something on the road, and ran away with him, till he came to a bridge over a deep though not very wide stream, where he threw him in such a manner that he fell headlong into the middle. George, who follow

ed him close, as fast as his own horse could lay legs to the ground, seeing him fall, alighted in an instaut, and plunging into the water, seized Mr. Sydney who could not swim, and with great difficulty,

and at the utmost hazard of his

life, brought him to the bank and delivered him from his danger. George,' said Mr. Sydney, when he had recovered,-for the sudden shock, and the time he had remained in the water had at first nearly deprived him of senseGeorge, when you were an infant I, perhaps, saved your life, you have this day certainly saved mine: it is thus that Providence ordains that acts of benevolence shall meet with greater rewards than they seem entitled to claimHenceforth, however, we will indeed be father and son.'

Immediately after this occurrence Mr. Sydney formally bequeathed, by a will which he then made, the whole of his property, real and personal, to his adopted son George.

But as the affairs of human life depend neither on our calculations, nor even our exertions, however diligent or meritorious, within the space of three or four years from this period, Mr. Sydney found himself in absolutely embarrassed circumstances. His natural generosity and various acts of benevolence, of which he was in the opinion of all his relatives and friends certainly guilty, had not contributed to improve his fortune, which in fact he did not wish, conceiving it amply sufficient for all his wants. But besides the too common effects of such generosity, adverse seasons, and unfortunate accurrences in his way of trade, had so reduced him, that he had scarcely any fortune whatever, and the

property remaining to him seemed, in his opinion, but a very inadequate remuneration for all the services he had received from his faithful friend, and now more than ever beloved adopted son, George.

It chanced that about this time Mr. Sydney became acquainted with a respectable naval officer of the name of Darton, who being advanced in years, and declining in health, had for some time retired from the service, and lived on the very ample fortune he had acquired by taking a number of valuable prizes while he had the command of a ship of war. As the frauk and open disposition of captain Darton accorded exactly with that of Mr. Sydney, a very familiar intimacy soon ensued between them. They visited very frequently; and the captain relat ed to Mr. Sydney his various adventures, and showed him a number of curiosities he had collected in the course of his voyages. Mr. Sydney in return showed the captain various things that he had collected and preserved as rarities, though many of them, certainly, were not very rare. Among these was a very old-fashioned small silver coral, which, perhaps it should have been mentioned before, was hanging round the neck of young George when he was found in the basket, a deserted infant, at Mr. Sydney's door, The coral particularly attracted the captain's attention: it was precisely the make of one that had been long in his family, and had engraven on it his arms, and the initials of his name, He repeatedly inquired of Mr. Sydney how he became possessed of this trinket, and he, though very reluctantly, at length related to him the manner in which he found his

.

adopted son George, and consequently the coral. The captain seemed greatly surprised, and mused for some time: at length he said Your friendship, I perceive, can conceal nothing from me; nor will I conceal my thoughts from you. It is possible that George may be my son. I have always felt a more than ordinary regard and esteem for him since I have known him; that, however, may be easily accounted for, when I consider his good sense, and excellent disposition. But about twenty years ago I contracted an intimacy with a lady of the name of Stanley, with whom I lived for some time near Plymouth, and who became pregnant. About the time that her delivery was every day expected I was ordered to join my ship. I gave her what money I had, and directed her to draw on my agent to a certain amount when she wanted more. I also gave her this coral, which was my mother's, for her child. I was absent abroad four years, and on my return, notwithstanding all my inquiries, could never learn what had become of her. This must be the coral, whoever George may be’.

After a long conversation on this extraordinary discovery till it was almost dark, the captain set out from Mr. Sydney's house to return home, leaving the further discussion of the subject till the next day. As he passed along he saw an old woman before him who had the misfortune to fall down. He raised her up, and looking in her face recollected her. Is not your name Elizabeth Harris' said he, and did you not once live with miss Stanley? The woman assented, but at first denied that she knew any thing more of her or her affairs than

that she was dead. The captain, however, prevailed on her to accompany him to Mr. Sydney's;. showed her the coral, and introduced her to George; when unable to persist any longer in her prevarications she confessed the whole truth. Miss Stanley,' she said, 'died a few months after the birth of her child, and having no relations, nor any friend she could. trust more than herself, left to her. the care of her child with all that she possessed: As the maintenance of the child, however, was expensive and troublesome, she had disposed of it at the door of a benevolent gentleman whom she knew would take care of it, and applied the property to her own use.'-George, my boy, you are. my son!' exclaimed the captain, ' and I will act by you as a father ought.' He immediately settled on him twenty thousand pounds; and so effectually assisted Mr. Sydney as to extricate him from all his difficulties, and place himin a more prosperous situation. than ever. Thus did it seem good to Providence to reward benevolence to a poor deserted Foundling.

ANECDOTE of the late DUKE
d'ENGHIEN.

THE late duke d'Enghien, who fell a victim to the vengeance and cruelty of the usurper of the throne of France, was a prince of great generosity, and a truly amiable disposition. Many of his countrymen who fought against him did not conceal the esteem which his character inspired. They had witnessed his unconquered bravery,. and many of them had experienced