C|)c (Garden's 



of its sweeter sister, the rosy-cheeked Daphne 

 cneorum, and all the train of expectant flo\\ 



Slowly, yet surely, the hour of the year is ad- 

 vancing. Under the ermine of winter, April's 

 treasures await only the robins' rondeau to call 

 them forth. And what pleasure there is in the 

 anticipation ! The swarms of tulips already 

 gathering their forces the dazzling rex rubro- 

 rums, the bizarres, and the tall marbled by- 

 bloems, which look like the old-fashioned silks of 

 our pretty grandmothers. That bank of oxlips, 

 cowslips, and primroses, too " crimson-maroon 

 sparkler," " Danesford yellow hose - in - hose," 

 " lilac pantaloons," and ever so many more in- 

 viting names which you placed along the south 

 garden-wall, what a mass of bloom will not push 

 through the mottled earth ! And that hamper 

 of daffodil-bulbs, sent by a friend in England, 

 what wealth of beaten gold will not unfold from 

 the fragrant petals ! 



Will pallidus prcecox outstrip obvallaris in 

 the race; and will "golden plover" vie with 

 "golden dragon"; or can any daffodil, born or 

 yet unborn, excel the glorious bicolor of the 

 Lancashire weaver, John Horsfield? Only, as 

 every rose has its thorn, Horsfieldi has its seri- 

 ous drawback, at least with me, in decreasing in 

 vigor every year. Perhaps it is the fault of soil ; 



