—but perforated sore, and dull'd in holes By worms voracious, eating through and through.

These are little things, but they are objects which will live in his memory to the latest day of his life, and with which are associated in his mind the dearest feelings and thoughts of his happiest hours."

Here is an attempt at a description in verse of some of the most common

TREES AND FLOWERS OF BENGAL

This land is not my father land, And yet I love it—for the hand Of God hath left its mark sublime On nature's face in every clime—

Though from home and friends we part, Nature and the human heart Still may soothe the wanderer's care— And his God is every where

Beneath BENGALA'S azure skies, No vallies sink, no green hills rise, Like those the vast sea billows make— The land is level as a lake[111] But, oh, what giants of the wood Wave their wide arms, or calmly brood Each o'er his own deep rounded shade When noon's fierce sun the breeze hath laid, And all is still. On every plain How green the sward, or rich the grain! In jungle wild and garden trim, And open lawn and covert dim, What glorious shrubs and flowerets gay, Bright buds, and lordly beasts of prey! How prodigally Gunga pours Her wealth of waves through verdant shores O'er which the sacred peepul bends, And oft its skeleton lines extends Of twisted root, well laved and bare, Half in water, half in air!

Fair scenes! where breeze and sun diffuse The sweetest odours, fairest hues— Where brightest the bright day god shows, And where his gentle sister throws Her softest spell on silent plain, And stirless wood, and slumbering main— Where the lucid starry sky Opens most to mortal eye The wide and mystic dome serene Meant for visitants unseen, A dream like temple, air built hall, Where spirits pure hold festival!

Fair scenes! whence envious Art might steal More charms than fancy's realms reveal— Where the tall palm to the sky Lifts its wreath triumphantly— And the bambu's tapering bough Loves its flexile arch to throw— Where sleeps the favored lotus white, On the still lake's bosom bright— Where the champac's[112] blossoms shine, Offerings meet for Brahma's shrine, While the fragrance floateth wide O'er velvet lawn and glassy tide— Where the mangoe tope bestows Night at noon day—cool repose, Neath burning heavens—a hush profound Breathing o'er the shaded ground— Where the medicinal neem, Of palest foliage, softest gleam, And the small leafed tamarind Tremble at each whispering wind— And the long plumed cocoas stand Like the princes of the land, Near the betel's pillar slim, With capital richly wrought and trim— And the neglected wild sonail Drops her yellow ringlets pale— And light airs summer odours throw From the bala's breast of snow— Where the Briarean banyan shades The crowded ghat, while Indian maids, Untouched by noon tide's scorching rays, Lave the sleek limb, or fill the vase With liquid life, or on the head Replace it, and with graceful tread And form erect, and movement slow, Back to their simple dwellings go— [Walls of earth, that stoutly stand, Neatly smoothed with wetted hand— Straw roofs, yellow once and gay, Turned by time and tempest gray—] Where the merry minahs crowd Unbrageous haunts, and chirrup loud— And shrilly talk the parrots green 'Midst the thick leaves dimly seen— And through the quivering foliage play, Light as buds, the squirrels gay, Quickly as the noontide beams Dance upon the rippled streams— Where the pariah[113] howls with fear, If the white man passeth near— Where the beast that mocks our race With taper finger, solemn face, In the cool shade sits at ease Calm and grave as Socrates— Where the sluggish buffaloe Wallows in mud—and huge and slow, Like massive cloud of sombre van, Moves the land leviathan—[114] Where beneath the jungle's screen Close enwoven, lurks unseen The couchant tiger—and the snake His sly and sinuous way doth make Through the rich mead's grassy net, Like a miniature rivulet— Where small white cattle, scattered wide, Browse, from dawn to even tide— Where the river watered soil Scarce demands the ryot's toil— And the rice field's emerald light Out vies Italian meadows bright,— Where leaves of every shape and dye, And blossoms varied as the sky, The fancy kindle,—fingers fair That never closed on aught but air— Hearts, that never heaved a sigh— Wings, that never learned to fly— Cups, that ne'er went table round— Bells, that never rang with sound— Golden crowns, of little worth— Silver stars, that strew the earth— Filagree fine and curious braid, Breathed, not labored, grown, not made— Tresses like the beams of morn Without a thought of triumph worn— Tongues that prate not—many an eye Untaught midst hidden things to pry— Brazen trumpets, long and bright, That never summoned to the fight— Shafts, that never pierced a side— And plumes that never waved with pride;— Scarcely Art a shape may know But Nature here that shape can show.

Through this soft air, o'er this warm sod, Stern deadly Winter never trod; The woods their pride for centuries wear, And not a living branch is bare; Each field for ever boasts its bowers, And every season brings its flowers.

D.L.R.

We all "uphold Adam's profession": we are all gardeners, either practically or theoretically. The love of trees and flowers, and shrubs and the green sward, with a summer sky above them, is an almost universal sentiment. It may be smothered for a time by some one or other of the innumerable chances and occupations of busy life; but a painting in oils by Claude or Gainsborough, or a picture in words by Spenser or Shakespeare that shall for ever

Live in description and look green in song,

or the sight of a few flowers on a window-sill in the city, can fill the eye with tears of tenderness, or make the secret passion for nature burst out again in sudden gusts of tumultuous pleasure and lighten up the soul with images of rural beauty. There are few, indeed, who, when they have the good fortune to escape on a summer holiday from the crowded and smoky city and find themselves in the heart of a delicious garden, have not a secret consciousness within them that the scene affords them a glimpse of a true paradise below. Rich foliage and gay flowers and rural quiet and seclusion and a smiling sun are ever associated with ideas of earthly felicity.

And oh, if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this!

The princely merchant and the petty trader, the soldier and the sailor, the politician and the lawyer, the artist and the artisan, when they pause for a moment in the midst of their career, and dream of the happiness of some future day, almost invariably fix their imaginary palace or cottage of delight in a garden, amidst embowering trees and fragrant flowers. This disposition, even in the busiest men, to indulge occasionally in fond anticipations of rural bliss—

In visions so profuse of pleasantness—

shows that God meant us to appreciate and enjoy the beauty of his works. The taste for a garden is the one common feeling that unites us all.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

There is this much of poetical sensibility—of a sense of natural beauty—at the core of almost every human heart. The monarch shares it with the peasant, and Nature takes care that as the thirst for her society is the universal passion, the power of gratifying it shall be more or less within the reach of all.[115]

Our present Chief Justice, Sir Lawrence Peel, who has set so excellent an example to his countrymen here in respect to Horticultural pursuits and the tasteful embellishment of what we call our "compounds" and who, like Sir William Jones and Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd, sees no reason why Themis should be hostile to the Muses, has obliged me with the following stanzas on the moral or rather religious influence of a garden. They form a highly appropriate and acceptable contribution to this volume.

I HEARD THY VOICE IN THE GARDEN.

That voice yet speaketh, heed it well— But not in tones of wrath it chideth, The moss rose, and the lily smell Of God—in them his voice abideth.

There is a blessing on the spot The poor man decks—the sun delighteth To smile upon each homely plot, And why? The voice of God inviteth.

God knows that he is worshipped there, The chaliced cowslip's graceful bending Is mute devotion, and the air Is sweet with incense of her lending.

The primrose, aye the children's pet, Pale bride, yet proud of its uprooting, The crocus, snowdrop, violet And sweet-briar with its soft leaves shooting.

There nestles each—a Preacher each— (Oh heart of man! be slow to harden) Each cottage flower in sooth doth teach God walketh with us in the garden.

I am surprized that in this city (of Calcutta) where so many kinds of experiments in education have been proposed, the directors of public instruction have never thought of attaching tasteful Gardens to the Government Colleges—especially where Botany is in the regular course of Collegiate studies. The Company's Botanic Garden being on the other side of the river and at an inconvenient distance from the city cannot be much resorted to by any one whose time is precious. An attempt was made not long ago to have the Garden of the Horticultural Society (now forming part of the Company's Botanic Garden) on this side of the river, but the public subscriptions that were called for to meet the necessary expenses were so inadequate to the purpose that the money realized was returned to the subscribers, and the idea relinquished, to the great regret of many of the inhabitants of Calcutta who would have been delighted to possess such a place of recreation and instruction within a few minutes' drive.

Hindu students, unlike English boys in general, remind us of Beattie's Minstrel:—

The exploit of strength, dexterity and speed To him nor vanity, nor joy could bring.

A sort of Garden Academy, therefore, full of pleasant shades, would be peculiarly suited to the tastes and habits of our Indian Collegians. They are not fond of cricket or leap-frog. They would rejoice to devote a leisure hour to pensive letterings in a pleasure-garden, and on an occasional holiday would gladly pursue even their severest studies, book in hand, amidst verdant bowers. A stranger from Europe beholding them, in their half-Grecian garments, thus wandering amidst the trees, would be reminded of the disciples of Plato.

"It is not easy," observes Lord Kames, "to suppress a degree of enthusiasm, when we reflect on the advantages of gardening with respect to virtuous education. In the beginning of life the deepest impressions are made; and it is a sad truth, that the young student, familiarized to the dirtiness and disorder of many colleges pent within narrow bounds in populous cities, is rendered in a measure insensible to the elegant beauties of art and nature. It seems to me far from an exaggeration, that good professors are not more essential to a college, than a spacious garden, sweetly ornamented, but without any thing glaring or fantastic, is upon the whole to inspire our youth with a taste no less for simplicity than for elegance. In this respect the University of Oxford may justly be deemed a model."

It may be expected that I should offer a few hints on the laying out of gardens. Much has been said (by writers on ornamental and landscape gardening) on art and nature, and almost always has it been implied that these must necessarily be in direct opposition. I am far from being of this opinion. If art and nature be not in some points of view almost identical, they are at least very good friends, or may easily be made so. They are not necessarily hostile. They admit of the most harmonious combinations. In no place are such combinations more easy or more proper than in a garden. Walter Scott very truly calls a garden the child of Art. But is it not also the child of Nature?—of Nature and Art together? To attempt to exclude art—or even, the appearance of art—from a small garden enclosure, is idle and absurd. He who objects to all art in the arrangement of a flower-bed, ought, if consistent with himself, to turn away with an expression of disgust from a well arranged nosegay in a rich porcelain vase. But who would not loathe or laugh at such manifest affectation or such thoroughly bad taste? As there is a time for every thing, so also is there a place for every thing. No man of true judgment would desire to trace the hand of human art on the form of nature in remote and gigantic forests, and amidst vast mountains, as irregular as the billows of a troubled sea. In such scenery there is a sublime grace in wildness,—there "the very weeds are beautiful." But what true judgment would be enchanted with weeds and wildness in the small parterre. As Pope rightly says, we must

Consult the genius of the place in all.

It is pleasant to enter a rural lane overgrown with field-flowers, or to behold an extensive common irregularly decorated with prickly gorse or fern and thistle, but surely no man of taste would admire nature in this wild and dishevelled state in a little suburban garden. Symmetry, elegance and beauty, (—no sublimity or grandeur—) trimness, snugness, privacy, cleanliness, comfort, and convenience—the results of a happy conjunction of art and nature—are all that we can aim at within a limited extent of ground. In a small parterre we either trace with pleasure the marks of the gardener's attention or are disgusted with his negligence. In a mere patch of earth around a domestic dwelling nature ought not to be left entirely to herself.

What is agreeable in one sphere of life is offensive in another. A dirty smock frock and a soiled face in a ploughman's child who has been swinging on rustic gates a long summer morning or rolling down the slopes of hills, or grubbing in the soil of his small garden, may remind us, not unpleasantly, of one of Gainsborough's pictures; but we look for a different sort of nature on the canvas of Sir Joshua Reynolds or Sir Thomas Lawrence, or in the brilliant drawing-rooms of the nobility; and yet an Earl's child looks and moves at least as naturally as a peasant's.

There is nature every where—in the palace as well as in the hut, in the cultivated garden as well as in the wild wood. Civilized life is, after all, as natural as savage life. All our faculties are natural, and civilized man cultivates his mental powers and studies the arts of life by as true an instinct as that which leads the savage to make the most of his mud hut, and to improve himself or his child as a hunter, a fisherman, or a warrior. The mind of man is the noblest work of its Maker (—in this world—) and the movements of man's mind may be quite as natural, and quite as poetical too, as the life that rises from the ground. It is as natural for the mind, as it is for a tree or flower to advance towards perfection. Nature suggests art, and art again imitates and approximates to nature, and this principle of action and reaction brings man by degrees towards that point of comparative excellence for which God seems to have intended him. The mind of a Milton or a Shakespeare is surely not in a more unnatural condition than that of an ignorant rustic. We ought not then to decry refinement nor deem all connection of art with nature an offensive incongruity. A noble mansion in a spacious and well kept park is an object which even an observer who has no share himself in the property may look upon with pleasure. It makes him proud of his race.[116] We cannot witness so harmonious a conjunction of art and nature without feeling that man is something better than a mere beast of the field or forest. We see him turn both art and nature to his service, and we cannot contemplate the lordly dwelling and the richly decorated land around it—and the neatness and security and order of the whole scene—without associating them with the high accomplishments and refined tastes that in all probability distinguish the proprietor and his family. It is a strange mistake to suppose that nothing is natural beyond savage ignorance—that all refinement is unnatural—that there is only one sort of simplicity. For the mind elevated by civilization is in a more natural state than a mind that has scarcely passed the boundary of brutal instinct, and the simplicity of a savage's hut, does not prevent there being a nobler simplicity in a Grecian temple.

Kent[117] the famous landscape gardener, tells us that nature abhors a straight line. And so she does—in some cases—but not in all. A ray of light is a straight line, and so also is a Grecian nose, and so also is the stem of the betel-nut tree. It must, indeed, be admitted that he who should now lay out a large park or pleasure-ground on strictly geometrical principles or in the old topiary style would exhibit a deplorable want of taste and judgment. But the provinces of the landscape gardener and the parterre gardener are perfectly distinct. The landscape gardener demands a wide canvas. All his operations are on a large scale. In a small garden we have chiefly to aim at the gardenesque and in an extensive park at the picturesque. Even in the latter case, however, though

'Tis Nature still, 'tis nature methodized:

Or in other words:

Nature to advantage dressed.

for even in the largest parks or pleasure-grounds, an observer of true taste is offended by an air of negligence or the absence of all traces of human art or care. Such places ought to indicate the presence of civilized life and security and order. We are not pleased to see weeds and jungle—or litter of any sort—even dry leaves—upon the princely domain, which should look like a portion of nature set apart or devoted to the especial care and enjoyment of the owner and his friends:—a strictly private property. The grass carpet should be trimly shorn and well swept. The trees should be tastefully separated from each other at irregular but judicious distances. They should have fine round heads of foliage, clean stems, and no weeds or underwood below, nor a single dead branch above. When we visit the finest estates of the nobility and gentry in England it is impossible not to perceive in every case a marked distinction between the wild nature of a wood and the civilized nature of a park. In the latter you cannot overlook the fact that every thing injurious to the health and growth and beauty of each individual tree has been studiously removed, while on the other hand, light, air, space, all things in fact that, if sentient, the tree could itself be supposed to desire, are most liberally supplied. There is as great a difference between the general aspect of the trees in a nobleman's pleasure ground and those in a jungle, as between the rustics of a village and the well bred gentry of a great city. Park trees have generally a fine air of aristocracy about them.

A Gainsborough or a Morland would seek his subjects in remote villages and a Watteau or a Stothard in the well kept pleasure ground. The ruder nature of woods and villages, of sturdy ploughmen and the healthy though soiled and ragged children in rural neighbourhoods, affords a by no means unpleasing contrast and introduction to the trim trees and smoothly undulating lawns, and curved walks, and gay parterres, and fine ladies and well dressed and graceful children on some old ancestral estate. We look for rusticity in the village, and for elegance in the park. The sleek and noble air of patrician trees, standing proudly on the rich velvet sward, the order and grace and beauty of all that meets the eye, lead us, as I have said already, to form a high opinion of the owner. In this we may of course be sometimes disappointed; but a man's character is generally to be traced in almost every object around him over which he has the power of a proprietor, and in few things are a man's taste and habits more distinctly marked than in his park and garden. If we find the owner of a neatly kept garden and an elegant mansion slovenly, rude and vulgar in appearance and manners, we inevitably experience that shock of surprize which is excited by every thing that is incongruous or out of keeping. On the other hand if the garden be neglected and overgrown with weeds, or if every thing in its arrangement indicate a want of taste, and a disregard of neatness and order, we feel no astonishment whatever in discovering that the proprietor is as negligent of his mind and person as of his shrubberies and his lawns.

A civilized country ought not to look like a savage one. We need not have wild nature in front of our neatly finished porticos. Nothing can be more strictly artificial than all architecture. It would be absurd to erect an elegantly finished residence in the heart of a jungle. There should be an harmonious gradation from the house to the grounds, and true taste ought not to object to terraces of elegant design and graceful urns and fine statues in the immediate neighbourhood of a noble dwelling.

Undoubtedly as a general rule, the undulating curve in garden scenery is preferable to straight lines or abrupt turns or sharp angles, but if there should happen to be only a few yards between the outer gateway and the house, could anything be more fantastical or preposterous than an attempt to give the ground between them a serpentine irregularity? Even in the most spacious grounds the walks should not seem too studiously winding, as if the short turns were meant for no other purpose than to perplex or delay the walker.[118] They should have a natural sweep, and seem to meander rather in accordance with the nature of the ground and the points to which they lead than in obedience to some idle sport of fancy. They should not remind us of Gray's description of the divisions of an old mansion:

Long passages that lead to nothing.

Foot-paths in small gardens need not be broader than will allow two persons to walk abreast with ease. A spacious garden may have walks of greater breadth. A path for one person only is inconvenient and has a mean look.

I have made most of the foregoing observations in something of a spirit of opposition to those Landscape gardeners who I think once carried a true principle to an absurd excess. I dislike, as much as any one can, the old topiary style of our remote ancestors, but the talk about free nature degenerated at last into downright cant, and sheer extravagance; the reformers were for bringing weeds and jungle right under our parlour windows, and applied to an acre of ground those rules of Landscape gardening which required a whole county for their proper exemplification. It is true that Milton's Paradise had "no nice art" in it, but then it was not a little suburban pleasure ground but a world. When Milton alluded to private gardens, he spoke of their trimness.

Retired Leisure That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.

The larger an estate the less necessary is it to make it merely neat, and symmetrical, especially in those parts of the ground that are distant from the house; but near the architecture some degree of finish and precision is always necessary, or at least advisable, to prevent the too sudden contrast between the straight lines and artificial construction of the dwelling and the flowing curves and wild but beautiful irregularities of nature unmoulded by art. A garden adjacent to the house should give the owner a sense of home. He should not feel himself abroad at his own door. If it were only for the sake of variety there should be some distinction between the private garden and the open field. If the garden gradually blends itself with a spacious park or chase, the more the ground recedes from the house the more it may legitimately assume the aspect of a natural landscape. It will then be necessary to appeal to the eye of a landscape gardener or a painter or a poet before the owner, if ignorant of the principles of fine art, attempt the completion of the general design.

I should like to see my Native friends who have extensive grounds, vary the shape of their tanks, but if they dislike a more natural form of water, irregular or winding, and are determined to have them with four sharp corners, let them at all events avoid the evil of several small tanks in the same "compound." A large tank is more likely to have good water and to retain it through the whole summer season than a smaller one and is more easily kept clean and grassy to the water's edge. I do not say that it would be proper to have a piece of winding water in a small compound—that indeed would be impracticable. But even an oval or round tank would be better than a square one.[119]

If the Native gentry could obtain the aid of tasteful gardeners, I would recommend that the level land should be varied with an occasional artificial elevation, nicely sloped or graduated; but Native malees would be sure to aim rather at the production of abrupt round knobs resembling warts or excrescences than easy and natural undulations of the surface.

With respect to lawns, the late Mr. Speede recommended the use of the doob grass, but it is so extremely difficult to keep it clear of any intermixture of the ooloo grass, which, when it intrudes upon the doob gives the lawn a patchwork and shabby look, that it is better to use the ooloo grass only, for it is far more manageable; and if kept well rolled and closely shorn it has a very neat, and indeed, beautiful appearance. The lawns in the compound of the Government House in Calcutta are formed of ooloo glass only, but as they have been very carefully attended to they have really a most brilliant and agreeable aspect. In fact, their beautiful bright green, in the hottest summer, attracts even the notice and admiration of the stranger fresh from England. The ooloo grass, however, on close inspection is found to be extremely coarse, nor has even the finest doob the close texture and velvet softness of the grass of English lawns.

Flower beds should be well rounded. They should never have long narrow necks or sharp angles in which no plant can have room to grow freely. Nor should they be divided into compartments, too minute or numerous, for so arranged they must always look petty and toy-like. A lawn should be as open and spacious as the ground will fairly admit without too greatly limiting the space for flowers. Nor should there be an unnecessary multiplicity of walks. We should aim at a certain breadth of style. Flower beds may be here and there distributed over the lawn, but care should be taken that it be not too much broken up by them. A few trees may be introduced upon the lawn, but they must not be placed so close together as to prevent the growth of the grass by obstructing either light or air. No large trees should be allowed to smother up the house, particularly on the southern and western sides, for besides impeding the circulation through the rooms of the most wholesome winds of this country, they would attract mosquitoes, and give an air of gloominess to the whole place.

Natives are too fond of over-crowding their gardens with trees and shrubs and flowers of all sorts, with no regard to individual or general effects, with no eye to arrangement of size, form or color; and in this hot and moist climate the consequent exclusion of free air and the necessary degree of light has a most injurious influence not only upon the health of the resident but upon vegetation itself. Neither the finest blossoms nor the finest fruits can be expected from an overstocked garden. The native malee generally plants his fruit trees so close together that they impede each other's growth and strength. Every Englishman when he enters a native's garden feels how much he could improve its productiveness and beauty by a free use of the hatchet. Too many trees and too much embellishment of a small garden make it look still smaller, and even on a large piece of ground they produce confused and disagreeable effects and indicate an absence of all true judgment. This practice of over-filling a garden is an instance of bad taste, analogous to that which is so conspicuously characteristic of our own countrymen in India with respect to their apartments, which look more like an upholsterer's show-rooms or splendid ornament-shops than drawing-rooms or parlours. There is scarcely space enough to turn in them without fracturing some frail and costly bauble. Where a garden is over-planted the whole place is darkened, the ground is green and slimy, the grass thin, sickly and straggling, and the trees and shrubs deficient in freshness and vigor.

Not only should the native gentry avoid having their flower-borders too thickly filled,—they should take care also that they are not too broad. We ought not to be obliged to leave the regular path and go across the soft earth of the bed to obtain a sight of a particular shrub or flower. Close and entangled foliage keeps the ground too damp, obstructs wholesome air, and harbours snakes and a great variety of other noxious reptiles. Similar objections suggest the propriety of having no shrubs or flowers or even a grass-plot immediately under the windows and about the doors of the house. A well exposed gravel or brick walk should be laid down on all sides of the house, as a necessary safeguard against both moisture and vermin.

I have spoken already of the unrivalled beauty of English gravel. It cannot be too much admired. Kunkur[120] looks extremely smart for a few weeks while it preserves its solidity and freshness, but it is rapidly ground into powder under carriage wheels or blackened by occasional rain and the permanent moisture of low grounds when only partially exposed to the sun and air. Why should not an opulent Rajah or Nawaub send for a cargo of beautiful red gravel from the gravel pits at Kensington? Any English House of Agency here would obtain it for him. It would be cheap in the end, for it lasts at least five times as long as the kunkur, and if of a proper depth admits of repeated turnings with the spade, looking on every turn almost as fresh as the day on which it was first laid down.

Instead of brick-bat edgings, the wealthy Oriental nobleman might trim all his flower-borders with the green box-plant of England, which would flourish I suppose in this climate or in any other. Cobbett in his English Gardener speaks with so much enthusiasm and so much to the purpose on the subject of box as an edging, that I must here repeat his eulogium on it.

The box is at once the most efficient of all possible things, and the prettiest plant that can possibly be conceived; the color of its leaf; the form of its leaf; its docility as to height, width and shape; the compactness of its little branches; its great durability as a plant; its thriving in all sorts of soils and in all sorts of aspects; its freshness under the hottest sun, and its defiance of all shade and drip: these are the beauties and qualities which, for ages upon ages, have marked it out as the chosen plant for this very important purpose.

The edging ought to be clipped in the winter or very early in spring on both sides and at top; a line ought to be used to regulate the movements of the shears; it ought to be clipped again in the same manner about midsummer; and if there be a more neat and beautiful thing than this in the world, all that I can say is, that I never saw that thing.

A small green edging for a flower bed can hardly be too trim; but large hedges with tops and sides cut as flat as boards, and trees fantastically shaped with the shears into an exhibition as full of incongruities as the wildest dream, have deservedly gone out of fashion in England. Poets and prose writers have agreed to ridicule all verdant sculpture on a large scale. Here is a description of the old topiary gardens.

These likewise mote be seen on every side The shapely box, of all its branching pride Ungently shorn, and, with preposterous skill To various beasts, and birds of sundry quill Transformed, and human shapes of monstrous size.

* * * * *

Also other wonders of the sportive shears Fair Nature misadorning; there were found Globes, spiral columns, pyramids, and piers With spouting urns and budding statues crowned; And horizontal dials on the ground In living box, by cunning artists traced, And galleys trim, or on long voyage bound, But by their roots there ever anchored fast.

G. West.

The same taste for torturing nature into artificial forms prevailed amongst the ancients long after architecture and statuary had been carried to such perfection that the finest British artists of these times can do nothing but copy and repeat what was accomplished so many ages ago by the people of another nation. Pliny, in his description of his Tuscan villa, speaks of some of his trees having been cut into letters and the forms of animals, and of others placed in such regular order that they reminded the spectator of files of soldiers.[121] The Dutch therefore should not bear all the odium of the topiary style of gardening which they are said to have introduced into England and other countries of Europe. They were not the first sinners against natural taste.

The Hindus are very fond of formally cut hedges and trimmed trees. All sorts of verdant hedges are in some degree objectionable in a hot moist country, rife with deadly vermin. I would recommend ornamental iron railings or neatly cut and well painted wooden pales, as more airy, light, and cheerful, and less favorable to snakes and centipedes.

This is the finest country in the world for making gardens speedily. In the rainy season vegetation springs up at once, as at the stroke of an Enchanter's wand. The Landscape gardeners in England used to grieve that they could hardly expect to live long enough to see the effect of their designs. Such artists would have less reason, to grieve on that account in this country. Indeed even in England, the source of uneasiness alluded to, is now removed. "The deliberation with which trees grow," wrote Horace Walpole, in a letter to a friend, "is extremely inconvenient to my natural impatience. I lament living in so barbarous an age when we are come to so little perfection in gardening. I am persuaded that 150 years hence it will be as common to remove oaks 150 years old as it now is to plant tulip roots." The writer was not a bad prophet. He has not yet been dead much more than half a century and his expectations are already more than half realized. Shakespeare could not have anticipated this triumph of art when he made Macbeth ask

Who can impress the forest? Bid the tree Unfix his earth-bound root?

The gardeners have at last discovered that the largest (though not perhaps the oldest) trees can be removed from one place to another with comparative facility and safety. Sir H. Stewart moved several hundred lofty trees without the least injury to any of them. And if broad and lofty trees can be transplanted in England, how much more easily and securely might such a process be effected in the rainy season in this country. In half a year a new garden might be made to look like a garden of half a century. Or an old and ill-arranged plantation might thus be speedily re-adjusted to the taste of the owner. The main object is to secure a good ball of earth round the root, and the main difficulty is to raise the tree and remove it. Many most ingenious machines for raising a tree from the ground, and trucks for removing it, have been lately invented by scientific gardeners in England. A Scotchman, Mr. McGlashen, has been amongst the most successful of late transplanters. He exhibited one of his machines at Paris to the present Emperor of the French, and lifted with it a fir tree thirty feet high. The French ruler lavished the warmest commendations on the ingenious artist and purchased his apparatus at a large price.[122]

Bengal is enriched with a boundless variety of noble trees admirably suited to parks and pleasure grounds. These should be scattered about a spacious compound with a spirited and graceful irregularity, and so disposed with reference to the dwelling as in some degree to vary the view of it, and occasionally to conceal it from the visitor driving up the winding road from the outer gate to the portico. The trees, I must repeat, should be so divided as to give them a free growth and admit sufficient light and air beneath them to allow the grass to flourish. Grassless ground under park trees has a look of barrenness, discomfort and neglect, and is out of keeping with the general character of the scene.

The Banyan (Ficus Indica or Bengaliensis)—

The Indian tree, whose branches downward bent, Take root again, a boundless canopy—

and the Peepul or Pippul (Ficus Religiosa) are amongst the finest trees in this country—or perhaps in the world—and on a very spacious pleasure ground or park they would present truly magnificent aspects. Colonel Sykes alludes to a Banyan at the village of Nikow in Poonah with 68 stems descending from and supporting the branches. This tree is said to be capable of affording shelter to 20,000 men. It is a tree of this sort which Milton so well describes.

The fig tree, not that kind for fruit renowned, But such as at this day, to Indians known In Malabar or Deccan, spreads her arms Branching so broad and long, a pillared shade, High over arched, and echoing walks between There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat, Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds At loop holes cut through the thickest shade those leaves, They gathered, broad as Amazonian taige; And with what skill they had together sewed, To gird their waste.

Milton is mistaken as to the size of the leaves of this tree, though he has given its general character with great exactness.[123]

A remarkable banyan or buri tree, near Manjee, twenty miles west of Patna, is 375 inches in diameter, the circumference of its shadow at noon measuring 1116 feet. It has sixty stems, or dropped branches that have taken root. Under this tree once sat a naked fakir who had occupied that situation for 25 years; but he did not continue there the whole year, for his vow obliged him to be during the four cold months up to his neck in the water of the Ganges![124]

It is said that there is a banyan tree near Gombroon on the Persian gulf, computed to cover nearly 1,700 yards.

The Banyan tree in the Company's Botanic garden, is a fine tree, but it is of small dimensions compared with those of the trees just mentioned.[125]

The cocoanut tree has a characteristically Oriental aspect and a natural grace, but it is not well suited to the ornamental garden or the princely villa. It is too suggestive of the rudest village scenery, and perhaps also of utilitarian ideas of mere profit, as every poor man who has half a dozen cocoanut trees on his ground disposes of the produce in the bazar.

I would recommend my native friends to confine their clumps of plaintain trees to the kitchen garden, for though the leaf of the plaintain is a proud specimen of oriental foliage when it is first opened out to the sun, it soon gets torn to shreds by the lightest breeze. The tattered leaves then dry up and the whole of the tree presents the most beggarly aspect imaginable. The stem is as ragged and untidy as the leaves.

The kitchen garden and the orchard should be in the rear of the house. The former should not be too visible from the windows and the latter is on many accounts better at the extremity of the grounds than close to the house, as we too often find it. A native of high rank should keep as much out of sight as possible every thing that would remind a visitor that any portion of the ground was intended rather for pecuniary profit than the immediate pleasure of the owner. The people of India do not seem to be sufficiently aware that any sign of parsimony in the management of a large park or pleasure ground produces in the mind of the visitor an unfavorable impression of the character of the owner. I have seen in Calcutta vast mansions of which every little niche and corner towards the street was let out to very small traders at a few annas a month. What would the people of England think of an opulent English Nobleman who should try to squeeze a few pence from the poor by dividing the street front of his palace into little pigeon-sheds of petty shops for the retail of petty wares? Oh! Princes of India "reform this altogether." This sordid saving, this widely published parsimony, is not only not princely, it is not only not decorous, it is positively disgusting to every passer-by who himself possesses any right thought or feeling.

The Natives seem every day more and more inclined to imitate European fashions, and there are few European fashions, which could be borrowed by the highest or lowest of the people of this country with a more humanizing and delightful effect than that attention to the exterior elegance and neatness of the dwelling-house, and that tasteful garniture of the contiguous ground, which in England is a taste common to the prince and the peasant, and which has made that noble country so full of those beautiful homes which surprize and enchant its foreign visitors.

The climate and soil of this country are peculiarly favorable to the cultivation of trees and shrubs and flowers; and the garden here is at no season of the year without its ornaments.

The example of the Horticultural Society of India, and the attractions of the Company's Botanic Garden ought to have created a more general taste amongst us for the culture of flowers. Bishop Heber tells us that the Botanic Garden here reminded hint more of Milton's description of the Garden of Eden than any other public garden, that he had ever seen.[126]

There is a Botanic Garden at Serampore. In 1813 it was in charge of Dr. Roxburgh. Subsequently came the amiable and able Dr. Wallich; then the venerable Dr. Carey was for a time the Officiating Superintendent. Dr. Voigt followed and then one of the greatest of our Anglo-Indian botanists, Dr. Griffiths. After him came Dr. McLelland, who is at this present time counting the teak trees in the forests of Pegu. He was succeeded by Dr. Falconer who left this country but a few months ago. The garden is now in charge of Dr. Thomson who is said to be an enthusiast in his profession. He explored the region beyond the snowy range I think with Captain Cunningham, some years ago. With the exceptions of Voigt and Carey, all who have had charge of the garden at Serampore have held at the same time the more important appointment of Superintendent of the Company's Botanic Garden at Garden Beach.

There is a Botanic Garden at Bhagulpore, which owes its origin to Major Napleton. I have been unable to obtain any information regarding its present condition. A good Botanic Garden has been already established in the Punjab, where there is also an Agricultural and Horticultural Society.

I regret that it should have been deemed necessary to make stupid pedants of Hindu malees by providing them with a classical nomenclature for plants. Hindostanee names would have answered the purpose just as well. The natives make a sad mess of our simplest English names, but their Greek must be Greek indeed! A Quarterly Reviewer observes that Miss Mitford has found it difficult to make the maurandias and alstraemerias and eschxholtzias—the commonest flowers of our modern garden—look passable even in prose. But what are these, he asks, to the pollopostemonopetalae and eleutheroromacrostemones of Wachendorf, with such daily additions as the native name of iztactepotzacuxochitl icohueyo, or the more classical ponderosity of Erisymum Peroffskyanum.

—like the verbum Graecum Spermagoraiolekitholakanopolides, Words that should only be said upon holidays, When one has nothing else to do.

If these names are unpronounceable even by Europeans, what would the poor Hindu malee make of them? The pedantry of some of our scientific Botanists is something marvellous. One would think that a love of flowers must produce or imply a taste for simplicity and nature in all things.[127]

As by way of encouragement to the native gardeners—to enable them to dispose of the floral produce of their gardens at a fair price—the Horticultural Society has withdrawn from the public the indulgence of gratuitous supplies of plants, it would be as well if some men of taste were to instruct these native nursery-men how to lay out their grounds, (as their fellow-traders do at home,) with some regard to neatness, cleanliness and order. These flower-merchants, and even the common malees, should also be instructed, I think, how to make up a decent bouquet, for if it be possible to render the most elegant things in the creation offensive to the eye of taste, that object is assuredly very completely effected by these swarthy artists when they arrange, with such worse than Dutch precision and formality, the ill-selected, ill-arranged, and tightly bound treasures of the parterre for the classical vases of their British masters. I am often vexed to observe the idleness or apathy which suffers such atrocities as these specimens of Indian taste to disgrace the drawing-rooms of the City of Palaces. This is quite inexcusable in a family where there are feminine hands for the truly graceful and congenial task of selecting and arranging the daily supply of garden decorations. A young lady—"herself a fairer flower"—is rarely exhibited to a loving eye in a more delightful point of view than when her delicate and dainty fingers are so employed.

If a lovely woman arranging the nosegays and flower-vases, in her parlour, is a sweet living picture, a still sweeter sight does she present to us when she is in the garden itself. Milton thus represents the fair mother of the fair in the first garden:—

Eve separate he spies. Veil'd in a cloud of fragrance, where she stood, Half spied, so thick the roses blushing round About her glow'd, oft stooping to support Each flower of slender stalk, whose head, though gay, Carnation, purple, azure, or speck'd with gold, Hung drooping unsustain'd; them she upstays Gently with myrtle band, mindless the while Herself, though fairest unsupported flower, From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh. Nearer he drew, and many a walk traversed Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm; Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen, Among thick woven arborets, and flowers Imborder'd on each bank, the hand of Eve[128]

Paradise Lost. Book IX.

Chaucer (in "The Knight's Tale,") describes Emily in her garden as fairer to be seen

Than is the lily on his stalkie green;

And Dryden, in his modernized version of the old poet, says,

At every turn she made a little stand, And thrust among the thorns her lily hand To draw the rose.

Eve's roses were without thorns—

"And without thorn the rose,"[129]

It is pleasant to see flowers plucked by the fairest fingers for some elegant or worthy purpose, but it is not pleasant to see them wasted. Some people pluck them wantonly, and then fling them away and litter the garden walks with them. Some idle coxcombs, vain

Of the nice conduct of a clouded cane,

amuse themselves with switching off their lovely heads. "That's villainous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it." Lander says

And 'tis my wish, and over was my way, To let all flowers live freely, and so die.

Here is a poetical petitioner against a needless destruction of the little tenants of the parterre.

Oh, spare my flower, my gentle flower, The slender creature of a day, Let it bloom out its little hour, And pass away.

So soon its fleeting charms must lie Decayed, unnoticed and o'erthrown, Oh, hasten not its destiny, Too like thine own.

Lyte.

Those who pluck flowers needlessly and thoughtlessly should be told that other people like to see them flourish, and that it is as well for every one to bear in mind the beautiful remark of Lord Bacon that "the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air than in the hand; for in the air it comes and goes like the warbling of music."

The British portion of this community allow their exile to be much more dull and dreary than it need be, by neglecting to cultivate their gardens, and leaving them entirely to the taste and industry of the malee. I never feel half so much inclined to envy the great men of this now crowded city the possession of vast but gardenless mansions, (partly blocked up by those of their neighbours,) as I do to felicitate the owner of some humbler but more airy and wholesome dwelling in the suburbs, when the well-sized grounds attached to it have been touched into beauty by the tasteful hand of a lover of flowers.

But generally speaking my countrymen in most parts of India allow their grounds to remain in a state which I cannot help characterizing as disreputable. It is amazing how men or women accustomed to English modes of life can reconcile themselves to that air of neglect, disorder, and discomfort which most of their "compounds" here exhibit.

It would afford me peculiar gratification to find this book read with interest by my Hindu friends, (for whom, chiefly, it has been written,) and to hear that it has induced some of them to pay more attention to the ornamental cultivation of their grounds; for it would be difficult to confer upon them a greater blessing than a taste for the innocent and elegant pleasures of the FLOWER-GARDEN.



SUPPLEMENT.

SACRED TREES AND SHRUBS OF THE HINDUS.

The following list of the trees and shrubs held sacred by the Hindus is from the friend who furnished me with the list of Flowers used in Hindu ceremonies.[130] It was received too late to enable me to include it in the body of the volume.

AMALAKI (Phyllanthus emblica).—A tree held sacred to Shiva. It has no flowers, and its leaves are in consequence used in worshipping that deity as well as Durga, Kali, and others. The natives of Bengal do not look upon it with any degree of religious veneration, but those of the Upper Provinces annually worship it on the day of the Shiva Ratri, which generally falls in the latter end of February or the beginning of March, and on which all the public offices are closed.

ASWATH-THA (Ficus Religiosa).—It is commonly called by Europeans the Peepul tree, by which name, it is known to the natives of the Upper Provinces. The Bhagavat Gita says that Krishna in giving an account of his power and glory to Arjuna, before the commencement of the celebrated battle between the Kauravas and Pandavas at Kurukshetra, identified himself with the Aswath-tha whence the natives consider it to be a sacred tree.[131]

BILWA OR SREEFUL (Aegle marmelos).—It is the common wood-apple tree, which is held sacred to Shiva, and its leaves are used in worshipping him as well as Durga, Kali, and others. The Mahabharat says that when Shiva at the request of Krishna and the Pandavas undertook the protection of their camp at Kurukshetra on the night of the last day of the battle, between them and the sons of Dhritarashtra, Aswathama, a friend and follower of the latter, took up a Bilwa tree by its roots and threw it upon the god, who considering it in the light of an offering made to him, was so much pleased with Aswathama that he allowed him to enter the camp, where he killed the five sons of the Pandavas and the whole of the remnants of their army. Other similar stories are also told of the Bilwa tree to prove its sacredness, but the one I have given above, will be sufficient to shew in what estimation it is held by the Hindus.

BAT (Ficus indica).—Is the Indian Banian tree, supposed to be immortal and coeval with the gods; whence it is venerated as one of them. It is also supposed to be a male tree, while the Aswath-tha or Peepul is looked upon as a female, whence the lower orders of the people plant them side by side and perform the ceremony of matrimony with a view to connect them as man and wife.[132]

DURVA' (Panicum dactylon).—A grass held to be sacred to Vishnu, who in his seventh Avatara or incarnation, as Rama, the son of Dasaratha, king of Oude, assumed the colour of the grass, which is used in all religious ceremonies of the Hindus. It has medicinal properties.

KA'STA' (Saccharum spontaneum).—It is a large species of grass. In those ceremonies which the Hindus perform after the death of a person, or with a view to propitiate the Manes of their ancestors this grass is used whenever the Kusa is not to be had. When it is in flower, the natives look upon the circumstance as indicative of the close of the rains.

KU'SA (Poa cynosuroides).—The grass to which, reference has been made above. It is used in all ceremonies performed in connection with the death of a person or having for their object the propitiation of the Manes of ancestors.

MANSA-SHIJ (Euphorbia ligularia).—This plant is supposed by the natives of Bengal to be sacred to Mansa, the goddess of snakes, and is worshipped by them on certain days of the months of June, July, August, and September, during which those reptiles lay their eggs and breed their young. The festival of Arandhana, which is more especially observed by the lower orders of the people, is in honor of the Goddess Mansa.[133]

NA'RIKELA (Coccos nucifera).—The Cocoanut tree, which is supposed to possess the attributes of a Brahmin and is therefore held sacred.[134]

NIMBA (Melia azadirachta).—A tree from the trunk of which the idol at Pooree was manufactured, and which is in consequence identified with the ribs of Vishnu.[135]

TU'LSI (Ocymum).—The Indian Basil, of which there are several species, such as the Ram Tulsi (ocymum gratissimum) the Babooye Tulsi (ocymum pilosum) the Krishna Tulsi (osymum sanctum) and the common Tulsi (ocymum villosum) all of which possess medicinal properties, but the two latter are held to be sacred to Vishnu and used in his worship. The Puranas say that Krishna assumed the form of Saukasura, and seduced his wife Brinda. When he was discovered he manifested his extreme regard for her by turning her into the Tulsi and put the leaves upon his head.[136]



APPENDIX.

* * * * *

THE FLOWER GARDEN IN INDIA.

The following practical directions and useful information respecting the Indian Flower-Garden, are extracted from the late Mr. Speede's New Indian Gardener, with the kind permission of the publishers, Messrs. Thacker Spink and Company of Calcutta.

THE SOIL.

So far as practicable, the soil should be renewed every year, by turning in vegetable mould, river sand, and well rotted manure to the depth of about a foot; and every second or third year the perennials should be taken up, and reduced, when a greater proportion of manure may be added, or what is yet better, the whole of the old earth removed, and new mould substituted.

It used to be supposed that the only time for sowing annuals or other plants, (in Bengal) is the beginning of the cold weather, but although this is the case with a great number of this class of plants, it is a popular error to think it applies to all, since there are many that grow more luxuriantly if sown at other periods. The Pink, for instance, may be sown at any time, Sweet William thrives best if sown in March or April, the variegated and light colored Larkspurs should not be put in until December, the Dahlia germinates most successfully in the rains, and the beautiful class of Zinnias are never seen to perfection unless sown in June.

This is the more deserving of attention, as it holds out the prospect of maintaining our Indian flower gardens, in life and beauty, throughout the whole year, instead of during the confined period hitherto attempted.

The several classes of flowering plants are divided into PERENNIAL, BIENNIAL, and ANNUAL.

PERENNIALS.

The HERON'S BILL, Erodium; the STORK'S BILL, Pelargonium; and the CRANE'S BILL, Geranium; all popularly known under the common designation of Geranium, which gives name to the family, are well known, and are favorite plants, of which but few of the numerous varieties are found in this country.

Of the first of these there are about five and twenty fixed species, besides a vast number of varieties; of which there are here found only the following:—

The Flesh-colored Heron's bill, E. incarnatum, is a pretty plant of about six inches high, flowering in the hot weather, with flesh-colored blossoms, but apt to become rather straggling.

Of the hundred and ninety species of the second class, independently of their varieties, there are few indeed that have found their way here, only thirteen, most of which are but rarely met with.

The Rose-colored Stork's bill, P. roseum, is tuberous rooted, and in April yields pretty pink flowers.

The Brick-colored Stork's bill, P. lateritium, affords red flowers in March and April.

The Botany Bay Stork's bill, P. Australe, is rare, but may be made to give a pretty red flower in March.

The Common horse-shoe Stork's bill, P. zonale, is often seen, and yields its scarlet blossoms freely in April.

The Scarlet-flowered Stork's bill, P. inquinans, affords a very fine flower towards the latter end of the cold weather, and approaching to the hot; it requires protection from the rains, as it is naturally of a succulent nature, and will rot at the joints if the roots become at all sodden: many people lay the pots down on their sides to prevent this, which is tolerably successful to their preservation.

The Sweet-Scented Stork's bill, P. odoratissimum, with pink flowers, but it does not blossom freely, and the branches are apt to grow long and straggling.

The Cut-leaved Stork's bill, P. incisum, has small flowers, the petals being long and thin, and the flowers which appear in April are white, marked with pink.

The Ivy-leaved Stork's bill, P. lateripes, has not been known to yield flowers in this country.

The Rose-scented Stork's bill, P. capitatum, the odour of the leaves is very pleasant, but it is very difficult to force into blossom.

The Ternate Stork's bill, P. ternatum, has variegated pink flowers in April.

The Oak-leaved Stork's bill, P. quercifolium, is much esteemed for the beauty of its leaves, but has not been known to blossom in this climate.

The Tooth-leaved Stork's bill, P. denticulatum, is not a free flowerer, but may with care be made to bloom in April.

The Lemon, or Citron-scented Stork's bill, P. gratum, grows freely, and has a pretty appearance, but does not blossom.

Of the second class of these plants the forty-eight species have only three representatives.

The Aconite-leaved Crane's bill, G. aconiti-folium, is a pretty plant, but rare, yielding its pale blue flowers with difficulty.

The Wallich's Crane's bill G. Wallichianum, indigenous to Nepal, having pale pink blossoms and rather pretty foliage, flowering in March and April; but requiring protection in the succeeding hot weather, and the beginning of the rains, as it is very susceptible of heat, or excess of moisture.

Propagation—may be effected by seed to multiply, or produce fresh varieties, but the ordinary mode of increasing the different sorts is by cuttings, no plant growing more readily by this mode. These should be taken off at a joint where the wood is ripening, at which point the root fibres are formed, and put into a pot with a compost of one part garden mould, one part vegetable mould, and one part sand, and then kept moderately moist, in the shade, until they have formed strong root fibres, when they may be planted out. The best method is to plant each cutting in a separate pot of the smallest size. The germinating of the seeds will be greatly promoted by sinking the pots three parts of their depth in a hot bed, keeping them moist and shaded and until they germinate.

Soil, &c. A rich garden mould, composed of light loam, rather sandy than otherwise, with very rotten dung, is desirable for this shrub.

Culture. Most kinds are rapid and luxurious growers, and it is necessary to pay them constant attention in pruning or nipping the extremities of the shoots, or they will soon become ill-formed and straggling. This is particularly requisite during the rains, when heat and moisture combine to increase their growth to excess; allowing them to enjoy the full influence of the sun during the whole of the cold weather, and part of the hot. At the close of the rains, the plants had better be put out into the open ground, and closely pruned, the shoots taken off affording an ample supply of cuttings for multiplying the plants; this putting out will cause them to throw up strong healthy shoots and rich blossoms; but as the hot weather approaches, or in the beginning of March, they must be re-placed in moderate sized pots, with a compost similar to that required for cuttings and placed in the plant shed, as before described. The earth in the pots should be covered with pebbles, or pounded brick of moderate size, which prevents the accumulation of moss or fungi. Geraniums should at no time be over watered, and must at all seasons be allowed a free ventilation.

There is no doubt that if visitors from this to the Cape, would pay a little attention to the subject, the varieties might be greatly increased, and that without much trouble, as many kinds may be produced freely by seed, if brought to the country fresh, and sown immediately on arrival; young plants also in well glazed cases would not take up much space in some of the large vessels coming from thence.

The ANEMONE has numerous varieties, and is, in England, a very favorite flower, but although A. cernua is a native of Japan, and many varieties are indigenous to the Cape, it is very rare here.

The Double anemone is the most prized, but there are several Single and Half double kinds which are very handsome. The stem of a good anemone should be eight or nine inches in height, with a strong upright stalk. The flower ought not to be less than seven inches in circumference, the outer row of petals being well rounded, flat, and expanding at the base, turning up with a full rounded edge, so as to form a well shaped cup, within which, in the double kinds, should arise a large group of long small petals reverted from the centre, and regularly overlapping each other; the colors clear, each shade being distinct in such as are variegated.

The Garden, or Star Wind flower, A. hortensis, Boostan afrooz, is another variety, found in Persia, and brought thence to Upper India, of a bright scarlet color; a blue variety has also blossomed in Calcutta, and was exhibited at the Show of February, 1847, by Mrs. Macleod, to whom Floriculture is indebted for the introduction of many beautiful exotics heretofore new to India. But it is to be hoped this handsome species of flowering plants will soon be more extensively found under cultivation.

Propagation. Seed can hardly be expected to succeed in this country, as even in Europe it fails of germinating; for if not sown immediately that it is ripe, the length of journey or voyage would inevitably destroy its power of producing. Offsets of the tubers therefore are the only means that are left, and these should not be replanted until they have been a sufficient time out of the ground, say a month or so, to become hardened, nor should they be put into the earth until they have dried, or the whole offset will rot by exposure of the newly fractured side to the moisture of the earth. The tubers should be selected which are plump and firm, as well as of moderate size, the larger ones being generally hollow; these may be obtained in good order from Hobart Town.

Soil, &c. A strong rich loamy soil is preferable, having a considerable portion of well rotted cow-dung, with a little leaf mould, dug to a depth of two feet, and the beds not raised too high, as it is desirable to preserve moisture in the subsoil; if in pots, this is effected by keeping a saucer of water under them continually, the pot must however be deep, or the fibres will have too much wet; an open airy situation is desirable.

Culture. When the plant appears above ground the earth must be pressed well down around the root, as the crowns and tubers are injured by exposure to dry weather, and the plants should be sheltered from the heat of the sun, but not so as to confine the air; they require the morning and evening sun to shine on them, particularly the former.

The IRIS is a handsome plant, attractive alike from the variety and the beauty of its blossoms; some of them are also used medicinally. All varieties produce abundance of seed, in which form the plant might with great care be introduced into this country.

The Florence Iris, I. florentina, Ueersa, is a large variety, growing some two feet in height, the flower being white, and produced in the hot weather.

The Persian Iris I. persica, Hoobur, is esteemed not only for its handsome blue and purple flowers, but also for its fragrance, blossoming in the latter part of the cold weather; one variety has blue and yellow blossoms.

The Chinese Iris, I. chinensis, Soosun peelgoosh, in a small sized variety, but has very pretty blue and purple flowers in the beginning of the hot weather.

Propagation. Besides seed, which should be sown in drills, at the close of the rains, in a sandy soil, it may be produced by offsets.

Soil, &c. Almost any kind of soil suits the Iris, but the best flowers are obtained from a mixture of sandy loam, with leaf mould, the Persian kind requiring a larger proportion of sand.

Culture. Little after culture is required, except keeping the beds clear from weeds, and occasionally loosening the earth. But the roots must be taken, up every two, or at most three years, and replanted, after having been kept to harden for a month or six weeks; the proper season for doing this being when the leaves decay after blossoming.

The TUBEROSE, Polianthes, is well deserving of culture, but it is not by any means a rare plant, and like many indigenous odoriferous flowers, has rather too strong an odour to be borne near at hand, and it is considered unwholesome in a room.

The Common Tuberose, P. tuberosa, Chubugulshubboo, being a native of India thrives in almost any soil, and requires no cultivation: it is multiplied by dividing the roots. It flowers at all times of the year in bunches of white flowers with long sepals.

The Double Tuberose, P. florepleno, is very rich in appearance, and of more delicate fragrance, although still too powerful for the room. Crows are great destroyers of the blossoms, which they appear fond of pecking. This variety is more rare, and the best specimens have been obtained from Hobart Town. It is rather more delicate and requires more attention in culture than the indigenous variety, and should be earthed up, so as to prevent water lodging around the stem.

The LOBELIA is a brilliant class of flowers which may be greatly improved by careful cultivation.

The Splendid Lobelia, L. splendens, is found in many gardens, and is a showy scarlet flower, well worthy of culture.

The Pyramidal Lobelia, L. pyramidalis, is a native of Nepal, and is a modest pretty flower, of a purple color.

Propagation—is best performed by offsets, suckers, or cuttings, but seeds produce good strong plants, which may with care, be made to improve.

Soil, &c.—A moist, sandy soil is requisite for them, the small varieties especially delighting in wet ground. Some few of this family are annuals, and the roots of no varieties should remain more than three years without renewal, as the blossoms are apt to deteriorate; they all flower during the rains.

The PITCAIRNIA is a very handsome species, having long narrow leaves, with, spined edges and throwing up blossoms in upright spines.

The Long Stamened Pitcairnia, P. staminea, is a splendid scarlet flower, lasting long in blossom, which, appears in July or August, and continues till December.

The Scarlet Pitcairnia, P. bromeliaefolia, is also a fine rich scarlet flower, but blossoming somewhat sooner, and may be made to continue about a month later.

Propagation—is by dividing the roots, or by suckers, which is best performed at the close of the rains.

Soil, &c. A sandy peat is the favorite soil of this plant, which should be kept very moist.

The DAHLIA, Dahlia; a few years since an attempt was made to rename this beautiful and extensive family and to call it Georgina, but it failed, and it is still better known throughout the world by its old name than the new. It was long supposed that the Dahlia was only found indigenous in Mexico, but Captain Kirke some few years back brought to the notice of the Horticultural Society, that it was to be met with in great abundance in Dheyra Dhoon, producing many varieties both single and double; and he has from time to time sent down quantities of seed, which have greatly assisted its increase in all parts of India. It has also been found in Nagpore.

A good Dahlia is judged of by its form, size, and color. In respect to the first of these its form should be perfectly round, without any inequalities of projecting points of the petals, or being notched, or irregular. These should also be so far revolute that the side view should exhibit a perfect semicircle in its outline, and the eye or prolific disc, in the centre should be entirely concealed. There has been recently introduced into this country a new variety, all the petals of which are quilled, which has a very handsome appearance.

In size although of small estimation if the other qualities are defective, it is yet of some consideration, but the larger flowers are apt to be wanting in that perfect hemispherical form that is so much admired.

The color is of great importance to the perfection of the flower; of those that are of one color this should be clear, unbroken, and distinct; but when mixed hues are sought, each color should be clearly and distinctly defined without any mingling of shades, or running into each other. Further, the flowers ought to be erect so as to exhibit the blossom in the fullest manner to the view. The most usual colors of the imported double Dahlias, met with in India, are crimson, scarlet, orange, purple, and white. Amongst those raised from seed from. Dheyra Dhoon[137] of the double kind, there are of single colors, crimson, deep crimson approaching to maroon, deep lilac, pale lilac, violet, pink, light purple, canary color, yellow, red, and white; and of mixed colors, white and pink, red and yellow, and orange and white: the single ones of good star shaped flowers and even petals being of crimson, puce, lilac, pale lilac, white, and orange. Those from Nagpore seed have yielded, double flowers of deep crimson, lilac, and pale purple, amongst single colors; lilac and blue, and red and yellow of mixed shades; and single flowered, crimson, and orange, with mixed colors of lilac and yellow, and lilac and white.

Propagation—is by dividing the roots, by cuttings, by suckers, or by seed; the latter is generally resorted to, where new varieties are desired. Mr. George A. Lake, in an article on this subject (Gardeners' Magazine, 1833) says: "I speak advisedly, and from, experience, when I assert that plants raised from cuttings do not produce equally perfect flowers, in regard to size, form, and fulness, with those produced by plants grown from division of tubers;" and he more fully shews in another part of the same paper, that this appears altogether conformable to reason, as the cutting must necessarily for a long period want that store of starch, which is heaped up in the full grown tuber for the nutriment of the plant. This objection however might be met by not allowing the cuttings to flower in the season when they are struck.

To those who are curious in the cultivation of this handsome species, it may be well to know how to secure varieties, especially of mixed colors; for this purpose it is necessary to cover the blossoms intended for fecundation with fine gauze tied firmly to the foot stalk, and when it expands take the pollen from the male flowers with a camel's hair pencil, and touch with it each floret of the intended bearing flower, tying the gauze again over it, and keeping it on until the petals are withered. The operation requires to be performed two or three successive days, as the florets do not expand together.

Soil &c. They thrive best in a rich loam, mixed with sand; but should not be repeated too often on the same spot, as they exhaust the soil considerably.

Culture. The Dahlia requires an open, airy position unsheltered by trees or walls, the plants should be put out where they are to blossom, immediately on the cessation of the rains, at a distance of three feet apart, either in rows or in clumps, as they make a handsome show in a mass; and as they grow should be trimmed from the lower shoots, to about a foot in height, and either tied carefully to a stake, or, what is better, surrounded by a square or circular trellis, about five feet in height. As the buds form they should be trimmed off, so as to leave but one on each stalk, this being the only method by which full, large, and perfectly shaped blossoms are obtained. Some people take up the tubers every year in February or March, but this is unnecessary. The plants blossom in November and December in the greatest perfection, but may with attention be continued from the beginning of October to the end of February.

Those plants which are left in the ground during the whole year should have their roots opened immediately on the close of the rains, the superabundant or decayed tubers, and all suckers being removed, and fresh earth filled in. The earth should always be heaped up high around the stems, and it is a good plan to surround each plant with a small trench to be filled daily with water so as to keep the stem and leaves dry.

The PINK, Dianthus, Kurunful, is a well known species of great variety, and acknowledged beauty.

The Carnation, D. caryophyilus, Gul kurunful, is by this time naturalized in India, adding both beauty and fragrance to the parterre; the only variety however that has yet appeared in the country is the clove, or deep crimson colored: but the success attending the culture of this beautiful flower is surely an encouragement to the introduction of other sorts, there being above four hundred kinds, especially as they may be obtained from seed or pipings sent packed in moss, which will remain in good condition for two or three months, provided no moisture beyond what is natural to the moss, have access to them.

The distinguishing marks of a good carnation may be thus described: the stem should be tall and straight, strong, elastic, and having rather short foot stalks, the flower should be fully three inches in diameter with large well formed petals, round and uncut, long and broad, so as to stand out well, rising about half an inch above the calyx, and then the outer ones turned off in a horizontal direction, supporting those of the centre, decreasing gradually in size, the whole forming a near approach to a hemisphere. It flowers in April and May.

Propagation—is performed either by seed, by layers, or by pipings; the best time for making the two latter is when the plant is in full blossom, as they then root more strongly. In this operation the lower leaves should be trimmed off, and an incision made with a sharp knife, by entering the knife about a quarter of an inch below the joint, passing it through its centre; it must then be pegged down with a hooked peg, and covered with about a quarter of an inch of light rich mould; if kept regularly moist, the layers will root in about a month's time: they may then be taken off and planted out into pots in a sheltered situation, neither exposed to excessive rain, nor sun, until they shoot out freely.

Pipings (or cuttings as they are called in other plants) must be taken off from a healthy, free growing plant, and should have two complete joints, being cut off horizontally close under the second one; the extremities of the leaves must also be shortened, leaving the whole length of each piping two inches; they should be thrown into a basin of soft water for a few minutes to plump them, and then planted out in moist rich mould, not more than an inch being inserted therein, and slightly watered to settle the earth close around them; after this the soil should be kept moderately moist, and never exposed to the sun. Seed is seldom resorted to except to introduce new varieties.

Soil, &c.—A mixture of old well rotted stable manure, with one-third the quantity of good fine loamy earth, and a small portion of sand, is the best soil for carnations.

Culture.—The plants should be sheltered from too heavy a fall of rain, although they require to be kept moderately moist, and desire an airy situation. When the flower stalks are about six or eight inches in height, they must be supported by sticks, and, if large full blossoms be sought for, all the buds, except the leading one, must be removed with a pair of scissors; the calyx must also be frequently examined, as it is apt to burst, and if any disposition to this should appear, it will be well to assist the uniform expansion by cutting the angles with a sharp penknife. If, despite all precautions the calyx burst and let out the petals, it should be carefully tied with thread, or a circular piece of card having a hole in the centre should be drawn over the bud so as to hold the petals together, and display them to advantage by the contrast of the white color.

Insects, &c.—The most destructive are the red, and the large black ant, which attack, and frequently entirely destroy the roots before you can be aware of its approach; powdered turmeric should therefore be constantly kept strewed around this flower.

The Common Pink, Dianthus Chinensis, Kurunful, and the Sweet William, D: barbatus, are pretty, ornamental plants, and may be propagated and cultivated in the same way as the carnation, save that they do not require so much care, or so good a soil, any garden mould sufficing; they are also more easily produced from seed.

The VIOLET, Viola, Puroos, is a class containing many beautiful flowers, some highly ornamental and others odoriferous.

The Sweet Violet, V. odorata, Bunufsh'eh, truly the poet's flower. It is a deserved favorite for its delightful fragrance as well as its delicate and retiring purple flowers; there is also a white variety, but it is rare in this country, as is also the double kind. This blossoms in the latter part of the cold weather.

The Shrubby Violet, V. arborescens, or suffruticosa, Rutunpuroos, grows wild in the hills, and is a pretty blue flower, but wants the fragrance of the foregoing.

The Dog's Violet, V. canina, is also indigenous in the hills.

Propagation.—All varieties may be propagated by seed, but the most usual method is by dividing the roots, or taking off the runners.

Soil, &c.—The natural habitat of the indigenous varieties is the sides and interstices of the rocks, where leaf mould, and micaceous sand, has accumulated and moisture been retained, indicating that the kind of soil favorable to the growth of this interesting little plant is a rich vegetable mould, with an admixture of sand, somewhat moist, but having a dry subsoil.

Culture.—It would not be safe to trust this plant in the open ground except during a very short period of the early part of the cold weather, when the so doing will give it strength to form blossoms. In January, however, it should be re-potted, filling the pots about half-full of pebbles or stone-mason's cuttings, over which should be placed good rich vegetable mould, mixed with a large proportion of sand, covering with a thin layer of the same material as has been put into the bottom of the pot; a top dressing of ground bones is said to improve the fineness of the blossoms. They should not be kept too dry, but at the same time watered cautiously, as too much of either heat or moisture destroys the plants.

The Pansy or Heart's-ease, V. tricolor, Kheeroo, kheearee, derives its first name from the French Pensee. It was known amongst the early Christians by the name of Flos Trinitatis, and worn as a symbol of their faith. The high estimation which it has of late years attained in Great Britain as a florist's flower has, in the last two or three years, extended itself to this country. There are nearly four hundred varieties, a few of which only have been found here.

The characters of a fine Heart's-ease are, the flower being well expanded, offering a flat, or if any thing, rather a revolute surface, and the petals so overlapping each other as to form a circle without any break in the outline. These should be as nearly as possible of a size, and the greater length of the two upper ones concealed by the covering of those at the side in such manner as to preserve the appearance of just proportion: the bottom petal being broad and two-lobed, and well expanded, not curving inwards. The eye should be of moderate, or rather small size, and much additional beauty is afforded, if the pencilling is so arranged as to give the appearance of a dark angular spot. The colors must also be clear, bright, and even, not clouded or indistinct. Undoubtedly the handsomest kinds are those in which the two upper petals are of deep purple and the triade of a shade less: in all, the flower stalk should be long and stiff. The plant blossoms in this country in February and March, although it is elsewhere a summer flower.

Propagation.—In England the moat usual methods are dividing the roots, layers, or cuttings from the stem, and these are certainly the only sure means of preserving a good variety; but it is almost impossible in India to preserve the plant through the hot weather, and therefore it is more generally treated as an annual, and raised every year from seed, which should be sown at the close of the rains; as however their growth, in India is as yet little known, most people put the imported seed into pots as soon as it arrives, lest the climate should deteriorate its germinating power, as it is well known, that even in Europe the seed should be sown as soon as possible after ripening. It will be well also to assist its sprouting with a little bottom heat, by plunging the pot up to its rim in a hot bed. American seed should be avoided as the blossoms are little to be depended on, and generally yield small, ill-formed flowers, clouded and run in color.

Soil, &c.—This should be moist, and the best compost is formed of one-sixth of well rotted dung from an old hot bed, and five-sixth of loam, or one-fourth of leaf mould and the remainder loam, but in either case well incorporated and exposed for some time previous to use to the action of the sun and air by frequent turning.

Culture.—A shady situation is to be preferred, especially for the dark varieties which assume a deeper hue if so placed. But it has been observed by Mackintosh, that "the light varieties bloomed lighter in the shade, and darker in the sunshine—a very remarkable effect, for which I cannot account." The plants must at all times be kept moist, never being allowed to become dry, and should be so placed as to receive only the morning sun before ten o'clock. Under good management the plants will extend a foot or more in height, and have a handsome appearance if trained over a circular trellis of rattan twisted. When they rise too high, or it is desirable to fill out with side shoots, the tops must be pinched off, and larger flowers will be obtained if the flower buds are thinned out where they appear crowded.

These plants look very handsome when grown in large masses of several varieties, but the seeds of those grown in this manner should not be made use of, as they are sure to sport; to prevent which it is also necessary that the plants which it is desired to perpetuate in this manner should be isolated at a distance from any other kind, and it would be advisable to cover them with thin gauze to prevent impregnation from others by means of the bees and other insects. For show flowers the branches should be kept down, and not suffered to straggle out or multiply; these will also be improved by pegging the longer branches down under the soil, and thereby increasing the number of the root fibres, hence adding to their power of accumulating nourishment, and not allowing them to expand beyond a limited number of blossoms, and those retained should be as nearly equal in age as possible.

The HYDRANGEA is a hardy plant requiring a good deal of moisture, being by nature an inhabitant of the marshes.

The Changeable Hydrangea, H. hortensis, is of Chinese origin and a pretty growing plant that deserves to be a favorite; it blossoms in bunches of flowers at the extremities of the branches which are naturally pink, but in old peat earth, or having a mixture of alum, or iron filings, the color changes to blue. It blooms in March and April.

Propagation may be effected by cuttings, which root freely, or by layers.

Soil, &c.—Loam and old leaf mould, or peat with a very small admixture of sand suits this plant. Their growth is much promoted by being turned out, for a month or two in the rains, into the open ground, and then re-potted with new soil, the old being entirely removed from the roots: and to make it flower well it must not be encumbered with too many branches.

The HOYA is properly a trailing plant, rooting at the joints, but have been generally cultivated here as a twiner.

The Fleshy-leaved Hoya, H. carnosa, is vulgarly called the wax flower from its singular star shaped-whitish pink blossoms, with a deep colored varnished centre, having more the appearance of a wax model than a production of nature. The flowers appear in globular groups and have a very handsome appearance from the beginning of April to the close of the rains.

The Green flowered Hoya, H. viridiflora, Nukchukoree, teel kunga, with its green flowers in numerous groups, is also an interesting plant, it is esteemed also for its medicinal properties.

Propagation.—Every morsel of these plants, even a piece of the leaf, will form roots if put in the ground, cuttings therefore strike very freely, as do layers, the joints naturally throwing out root-fibres although not in the earth.

Soil, &c.—A light loam moderately dry is the best for these plants, which look well if trained round a circular trellis in the open border.

The STAPELIA is an extensive genus of low succulent plants without leaves, but yielding singularly handsome star-shaped flowers; they are of African origin growing in the sandy deserts, but in a natural state very diminutive being increased to their present condition and numerous varieties by cultivation, they mostly have an offensive smell whence some people call them the carrion plant. They deserve more attention than has hitherto been shown to them in India.