APRIL. 
101 
warm, lovely weather. For how long, we know not—it may be the 
bitter north-easter will return—but at present all things are on the move ; 
the buds of the Horse Chesnut begin to assume their peculiar glutinous 
aspect; the lark sings merrily as he ascends to heaven; bees come forth 
from their hive, roll themselves in the bloom of the yellow Crocus, and 
return laden with its pollen : while in gardens all around are signs of 
returning life—perennials throw up their shoots, Rose-buds begin to 
swell, and everything betokens the resurrection of sleeping nature. 
After the “ grave” time of winter, he must have but little poetry in his 
composition whose mind is untouched by the signs around him, and but 
little gratitude to the Giver of all good gifts, who cannot praise Him for 
the return of His promise—that “ seed time ” shall not cease. It is a 
busy sime, too—farmers and gardeners are all on the move; plough 
and harrow, spade and rake, are in requisition, and it is not to be 
supposed that we, the humble occupants of small gardens, can be idle ; 
every morning there are great temptations to encroach upon the allotted 
hour , and a little battle has to be waged between self and duty, but the 
temptation must be and is resisted. As I looked around upon my 
demesne this morning, I thought that perhaps some one similarly 
situated might be inquiring—as I have often done—what had I better 
propagate or get for my summer bloom ?—and then it struck me that 
perhaps such a one might be glad to know my own experience in the 
matter; and though I do not pretend to be a “ consulting physician,” 
yet I have, I hope, had sufficient experience not to come under the 
designation of a charlatan. I purpose, therefore, giving now the names 
of a few plants of various kinds which I have found useful for my pur¬ 
pose, reminding my readers that there are two purposes for which I 
want flowers : firstly, to bloom well, and make a good display in the 
summer months ; and secondly, to have such as can be readily cut for 
nosegays (I prefer that good old Saxon word to our modern French 
bouquet ) ; and as next month our friends the nurserymen will be 
bidding for popular favour, and offering their wares with high enco¬ 
miums (often too largely spiced with exaggeration) and low prices, the 
time will be a fitting one, so that if they desire any of the things 
enumerated, they can obtain them. 
Foremost, then, among bedding plants stands the Geranium, 
There is nothing more dazzling, as every one knows, than a bed or 
border of good Scarlet Geraniums, and I do not think as yet any scarlet 
hast aken the place of Tom Thumb. Many and many a time has one 
seen advertisements which, if you were to believe them, would very 
soon extinguish the little fellow; but, small as he is, he is “ plucky,” 
and as yet has the best of it; it reminds one of the manner in which 
our little island— 
“ This precious stone, set in the silver sea”— 
has been assailed, and its inhabitants threatened with extermination. 
When Arthur Wellesley landed in Portugal, Junot wrote home that he 
was going to drive the English into the sea : but he learned to talk rather 
differently after a while. When the Dukes Constantine and Michael 
visited Sebastopol, the grand assault on the English was to be made, 
