We have a decided objection to Tulip beds in pleasure gardens; first, on account of the formality which long or square beds give to the general scene; and next that these beds become blanks for the remainder of the year, which destroys the effect of other plants. Tulips, that are not of the first rate varieties, may be made to add greatly to the gaiety and beauty of the garden when they are judiciously planted in clumps of from six to eighteen in a spot. Situations that are sheltered from the winds should be chosen, as also where a partial shade is afforded from the afternoon sun. By this manner of planting bulbous flowers, the patches of ground required are not larger than will be found necessary between the clumps of later flowering-plants, whose branches will occupy so much of the spot made vacant by the loss of the Tulip, as to be unperceived in the later season of the year. The Tulip bulbs should be so allotted to the grounds, as to embellish those spots that are most deficient in flowers at the season of their blooming, which is confined to the months of May and June, excepting the dwarf early-blowing Tulips, suaveolens, which usually flower in April.

The proper time for committing these bulbs to the ground, is from the end of October to about the middle of November, but not later; and a circular spot of from two to three feet in diameter will

be sufficient to plant about eighteen bulbs. Having prepared the spots, lay little patches of sand where each bulb is to be placed; then gently cover them with sand, or a very light sandy soil, forming little pyramids over each bulb: after this lay the compost gently over the clump, so as to cover the bulbs about three inches in depth; and the spot should be rather higher than the general surface of the border, so that superfluous water may run off by the convex shape of the clump. The brown coat of the bulb should be carefully taken off when it is placed in the ground, but the root must not be injured in performing this operation.

The time for taking up the bulbs will be shown by the decay of the stem and the leaves: they should then be placed in a dry, airy, shaded situation, until the season for planting: their outer skins must by no means be disturbed until the moment they are to be covered with earth.

The dwarf early-flowering Tulip is the kind used for forcing in pots, and these prosper better in earth than when placed on water, although the latter mode is frequently adopted, but the bulbs uniformly perish after having flowered in water.

LILY OF THE VALLEY. Convallaria Majalis.

Natural Order Sarmentaceæ. Asparagi, Juss. A Genus of the Hexandria Monogynia Class.

Sweet flower o' the valley, wi' blossoms of snow,

And green leaves that turn the cauld blast frae their stems; Bright emblem o' innocence, thy beauties I lo’e,

Aboon the king's coronet circled wi' gems!

There's nae tinsel ahint thee, to make thee mair bright,
Sweet Lily! thy loveliness a' is thine ain,

And thy bonny bells, danglin' sae pure and sae light,
Proclaim thee the fairest o' Flora's bright train.

J. L. S.

THE flowery month of May produces no plant of more exquisite fragrance, or more delicate form, than the Lily of the Valley.

In floral language is is made to represent a Return of Happiness, because it announces by its elegance and its odour the happy season of the year.

The graceful manner in which these perfumed bells are suspended on the stem, and the agreeable contrast which their broad leaves of bright green afford to the snowy corollas, could not escape the notice of our poets. Bernard Barton thus speaks of this flower :

:

and sweetest to the view,

The Lily of the vale, whose virgin flower

Trembles at every breeze beneath its leafy bower.

Mr. Leigh Hunt calls them

the nice-leaved lesser Lilies,

Shading, like detected light,

Their little green-tipt lamps of white.

Keats says

No flower amid the garden fairer grows
Than the sweet Lily of the lowly vale,
The queen of flowers.

Hurdis moralizes on this flower that flourishes so well in the shade, where gayer plants would not exist :

to the curious eye

A little monitor presents her page

Of choice instruction, with her snowy bells,
The Lily of the Vale. She nor affects
The public walk, nor gaze of mid-day sun :
She to no state or dignity aspires,
But silent and alone puts on her suit,
And sheds her lasting perfume, but for which
We had not known there was a thing so sweet
Hid in the gloomy shade. So when the blast
Her sister tribes confounds, and to the earth
Stoops their high heads, that vainly were exposed,
She feels it not, but flourishes anew,

Still shelter'd and secure. And as the storm,
That makes the high elm couch, and rends the oak,
The humble Lily spares,-a thousand blows
That shake the lofty monarch on his throne,
We lesser folks feel not. Keen are the pains
Advancement often brings. To be secure,
Be humble; to be happy, be content.

When poets thus sweetly endeavour to reconcile

us to humble stations, their works may be compared to Lilies of the Valley, which give pleasure to all that behold them, and can never be found offensive by any rank or station of men. Prior, after looking at this flower, wrote

Why does one climate and one soil endue

The blushing Poppy with a crimson hue,

Yet leave the Lily pale, and tinge the Violet blue.

These are reflections which flowers bring to our contemplation, and which must always end in our admiration of the infinite wisdom of the Creator, who formed man with mind, and the Lily with fragrance.

Prior adds

Take but the humblest Lily of the field;
And if our pride will to our reason yield,
It must by sure comparison be shown,
That on the regal seat great David's son,
Array'd in all his robes and types of pow'r,
Shines with less glory than that simple flow'r.

This native flower did not fail to catch the attention of our great dramatic bard, whose pen could not touch the humblest plant without portraying its character to the life, and his happiest similes are often taken from flowers.

Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity!

No friends! no hope! no kindred weep for me,
Almost no grave allowed me! like the Lily,
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head and perish.

The Lily, for its delicate whiteness, has been as