Wayside Flora; or, Gleaningsfrom Rock and Field towards Rome. By
Nona Bellaire. (Smith andElder.)—Our authoress, when she travels on the Continent, is in the habit of bolting out of the carriage and laying hands on any stray flowers she sees. This is the picture she draws of herself and her proceedings on Mont Cenis. "What my companions endured in -the way of sundry halts after this or that treasure, from petticoats all dabbled in mud and water or fringed with ice, from bundles of cold clammy ferns with dripping roots being unceremoniously poked into their warm hands, with pray you just hold those till I ara. settled or, Would you mind taking charge of them, for my bag is 'throttling me?' ' And where are the trowels?' ' Oh, here, in my pocket, or there, under you." And the knife ?' 'Bless me, I forgot to shut it ; do take care !' " Well, from the miseries thus endured and infficted the public reap the advantage of the little volume before us, which contains .a rather fragmentary and disconnected account of the flowers and shrubs that are to be found by the Italian road-sides and amongst the Roman ruins. Interspersed with, these details are observations on manners and objects of interest in general; these are quite fresh and lively enough to form an additional element of pleasure for those who are attracted by the main design of the little volume. People who do not leave England may be gratified to hear that on our authoress inquiring of an American for "the unchanging blue of the Roman sky," the reply was, "Well, I guess you'll about have left that at Torquay."
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