is a "sunflower," and, in common with the helianthus, is said never to turn its face from that part of the heavens where the sun is, whether seen or invisible. In the "Winter's Tale," Shakespeare speaks of "the marigold that goes to bed with the sun and with him rises weeping," a state of things that necessitates the facing of the flower to the northern regions of the heavens all through the night. One of the most beautiful of the poetical fancies, founded on the idea of a flower following the sun, is the little poem by George Wither:

"When, with a serious musing, I behold
The gratefull and obsequious marigold,
How duely, ev'ry morning, she displayes
Her open brest, when Titan spreads his rayes;
How she observes him in his daily walke,

Still bending towards him her tender stalke;

How when he downe declines, she droopes and mournes,
Bedew'd (as 't were) with teares, till he returnes;
And how she vailes her flow'rs, when he is gone,

As if she scornèd to be looked on

By an inferiour eye; or, did contemne
To wayt upon a meaner light, then him.

When this I meditate, me-thinkes, the flowers
Have spirits, farre more generous then ours;
And give us fair examples, to despise

The servile fawnings, and idolatries,

Wherewith we court these earthly things below,
Which merit not the service we bestow."

Florists' marigolds are very delicate things. The Africans we will not speak of, because anybody can grow them, and they are horribly coarse; but the French are delicate. things, and worthy of all reasonable care to ensure fine quality. And yet with these the chief matter is to get good seed, for the qualities the severe judges of flowers

require are more the result of hybridism and selection than what we understand by the term "cultivation." But having secured the seed, sow it in a gentle hot-bed in April, or in pots some time in May, in which case a hotbed will not be wanted, as the seed will soon germinate in a common frame. Prick out the young plants into boxes, filled with light rich earth, as soon as they are large enough to handle; and very soon after, the plants being stout and healthy, put them out in a bed open to the full sun, and carefully water and shade until they begin to grow freely, and then give no more shade and no more water unless the summer happens to be very hot and dry, in which case you must water regularly and copiously-say, to soak the bed well twice or thrice a week.

GARDEN VARIETY.

Fuchsia spectabilis.

HE fuchsia is beyond doubt one
of the most beautiful of our
familiar garden flowers. Now,
everybody knows how beautiful
it is, and as gilding refined
gold is a wasteful excess, we
solemnly promise not to waste
another word in general re-
marks on that matter. But of
its interest? It has no place
in history, and no poet of re-
nown has written an ode in its
honour. No. But it represents
the floral wealth of certain of
the richest and poorest parts
of the earth's surface.
It ex-
tends as a genus along the Paci-
fic sea-board of South America,
from sunny Cuenca to the cold

and cloudy Falkland Islands, and if aided with just a little warmth would no doubt run into the Land of Desolation, and compete for supremacy as a vegetable curiosity with. that nondescript thing the Kerguelen cabbage. But it loves a land of luxury nevertheless, for we meet with