operation. If we remove any tree, tlie follownng season the strongest shoots will be 

 from its base ; the branches at the extremities frequently put out only leaves, and 

 often die entirely ; and so a newly budded Rose, the bud being the extremity, fre- 

 quently dies out after transplanting, not because it is a "budded Rose," but because it 

 has been injured like the before-mentioned tree. Such Roses, therefore, require more 

 care than Roses on their own roots, in these operations. And again, in transplanted 

 trees, the strong base shoots have to be taken ofi" to strengthen the top ; and, in like 

 manner, all suckers and base shoots from the Roses must receive similar attention. 

 Suckers will grow, and so will weeds. By the "sweat of our brows" we must raise 

 Roses, as well as " earn our bread all the days of our lives." 



The chief material for the tables of mortality on budded Roses, however, consists of 

 imported stocks. The roots become so enfeebled and injured by the voyage, that they 

 are unable to impart vigor to the stem; the bark becomes "hide-bound"; the course 

 of the sap weak, weaker, and weaker, till "pulsation entirely ceases, and affords 

 another theme "whereon to moralize." All imported stocks are naturally less fitted 

 to stand our climate, than such as have been raised here, and inured to it from in- 

 fancy. Those who have had any experience in Weeping Sophoras, Laburnums, and 

 similar things, will readily bear me out in this position. 



The fact is, budded Roses are not essentially short-lived. "With properly selected 

 stocks, care in transplanting, and watchfulness in removing suckers as they appear, 

 we may have them to live as long as Pears on Quinces, or anything else. 



COLOR IN NATURE AND ART.* 



Nature is no mere utilitarian. That so-called utility which regards only the lower half 

 of human nature, — which cares for bodily wants and pecuniary profits, but which 

 ignores the higher emotions from the regulated play of whose fountains proceeds all 

 that is worthy of the name of joy, — finds nothing in the economy of nature to support 

 its materialistic exclusiveness. If the utilitarians had had the making of our world, 

 they would doubtless have made it very fertile and free of weeds, and Quaker-like have 

 dressed it in shapes and hues savoring strongly of the sombre and the useful ; but alas 

 for the beautiful! That cream of life and bloom of nature, what is it to them? 

 \Vorking unseen upon the spirit, and only revealing itself by the lighting of the eye 

 and the beaming of the countenance, — exciting an emotion which, though brilliant 

 and elevating, and full of the divine, seems to produce nothing, and rather to lessen 

 men's devotion to materialistic pursuits. Utilitarians ignore it, and in the world of 

 their own devising, would have flung aside flowers as cumberers of the ground, and 

 looked upon Roses as but painted weeds. They 



"Could strip, for aught the prospect yields 

 To them, their verdure from the fields, 

 And take the radiance from the clouds 

 "With which the sun his setting shrouds." 



From BlacJcicood's MarjazlM for November, we shall give another extract from this excellent article next month 



