THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
January 1?.] 
21 5 
the Hand Divine, and decks the tree with all its 
glory. When circulation ceases, when the sap no 
longer stimulates and feeds the leaf, it droops and 
dies, in spite of all the rains and sun-beams that can 
cheer and nourish it. Does not the thoughtful Chris¬ 
tian understand this? Has it not a word of instruc¬ 
tion for him, as he lingers amid the still beautiful 
woods, and tracks the winding path through beds of 
fallen leaves? Do our blessings spring from the 
things of this world? Does our happiness depend 
on outward sources ? Is there not a hidden life that 
gives our pleasures all their sweetness, and, when 
they are snatched from us, gives us a sure hope of 
richer and more glorious ones, in a world that knows 
no decay? Unless our peace springs from a deeper 
source than worldly blessings, it will surely wither 
and die. 
Even now there is a relic of the past summer on 
some of the hedges. The downy clusters of the wild 
clematis still clothe the leafless sprays in some 
places, and remind us of the beautiful flowers that 
wreathed and waved around them, in wild luxuriance, 
a few months since. It is 2 )leasing to see even the 
remnants of the warmth and sweetness of summer ; 
particularly when the depth of the winter is over, 
and we feel that we are again hastening towards the 
resplendent sun, and shall soon be looking for spring¬ 
ing plants and budding flowers, among the fields and 
hedges. The bramble, in some places, is never 
wholly out of leaf. Its strong leaves remain through¬ 
out the winter, although less green and bright; and, 
see it where we may, there is a grace in the form and 
drooping attitude of this beautiful wild plant, that 
never fails to please the eye. There is a species of 
bramble, said to be found only in the Holy Land, 
and, therefore, distinguished by the name of “holy 
bramble;” but our own wild plant grows there too, 
in some places, though not so generally as it does 
here. It is scarcely possible to look at the bramble, 
without thinking of those troubled times, when 
Jotliam stood forth “ on the top of Mount Gerizim,” 
and uttered a parable against the sin and folly of 
the men of Shechem. Let us, as we stand admiring 
its rich waving masses beneath the trees, or in the 
deep silence of the beautiful glades and openings, 
hear a voice as from the top of Gerizim. Let us re¬ 
member the end of Abimeleck; the end of all who do 
evil. God will as surely “ render the wickedness ” 
of all who sin against his laws, as he did that of the 
slayers of his brethren. Let us remember, too, the 
deep lesson taught in the parable, for we are proud 
in our own weakness, and ever but too ready to exalt 
ourselves. A simple hedge-plant may do us good, if 
we will but listen to its voice, and hear all it can 
say. We need not go far for instruction; lessons of 
wisdom are sown for us by the way side—they are 
scattered thickly around us, but we do not attend to 
them. We admire the beauty of the object, but its 
words are not heard. Do we not reject the Word of 
God Himself? Do we not suffer “ the wicked one ” 
to catch away “ that which is sown in our hearts ? ” 
Are we not ever, in spiritual things, hearers “ by the 
way-side ? ” 
LIST OF PANSIES. 
We have received the following correct list of 
pansies from Mr. Grieves, an eminent grower, near 
Edinburgh (see Advertisement). We insert them for 
the benefit of our readers who may wish to add to 
their stock this spring :— 
France Cycnle (Grieves).—Flower, large j form, first-rate ; petals, 
dark puce, o: velvety texture; lower petals, broadly belted with 
exactly the same tint; centre, pale primrose ; blotch, dark puce ; 
eye, gold colour, forming altogether a superb variety. 
Alexander (Grieves).—Centre, pure white ; upper and lower petals, 
broadly belted with blue ; form and substance, extra good. 
Augustus (1). & Co.)—Ultra-marine ; belt and upper petals, rich 
puce, and dark blotch in centre. 
Beauty of Arnotdale (Russell).—Yellow and blue, fine blotch, but 
thin. 
Byron (D. & Co.)—Gold and purple; fine form and substance j 
blotch, dense. 
Caroline (Turner).—White and blueish purple j good shape : an 
excellent flower. 
Cossack (Thomson).—Dark marroon self; an extra good flower, 
(criterion (1). & Co.) Bright chrome, with rich bronze-crimson 
belt and upper petals ; smooth edge ; extra form and substance; 
colours, fast. 
Duke of Norfolk (Bell).—Yellow and dark marroon, purple: 
beautiful blotch. 1 
Jessie Wilson (Downie).—Rich, dark purple; edge, smooth; fine 
form and texture. 
Lucy Neal (Scotcher).—Bark purple self; good shape, and flat, 
but thin. 
Magnificent (Nelson).—Fine shaded ruby puce ; the three under 
petals delicately laced with white ; of great substance; an extra fine 
flower. 
Marchioness of Ailsa (-).—Straw and fine purple ; fine blotch j 
form, size, and substance, extra ; a fine flower. 
Marchioness (-).—Orange self; fine blotch; size, large; of 
good substance. 
Marquis of 'l'weedale (Downie).—Yellow centre; belt and upper 
petals, dark marroon ; large, and of fine substance. 
Miss Wedderburn (Currie).—White, with dark blue belt and upper 
petals ; fine shape and substance. 
Orion (1). & Co.)—Yellow, and rich bronze crimson belt and upper 
petals ; very flat, smooth, and round. 
Orestes (Gosset).—Gold, and rich bronze crimson ; a good flower. 
MY GARDEN NOTES. 
As Mr. Beaton did me the honour, some time 
since, to intimate that my communications to The 
Cottage Gardener would be acceptable, I take the 
opportunity afforded by these long winter evenings 
to hand you an epitome of many little discoveries I 
have made during my initiatory experiments and 
inquiries into the secrets of horticulture. 
Green-fi.y. —First, I will just talk a little of that 
pest of pests—the “ Fly.” Every body knows—both 
amateur and professional—what difficulty is experi¬ 
enced in keeping this intolerable invader under; 
especially with regard to those delightful tribes of 
plants, the Calceolaria and Cineraria, which greet us 
with their early blossoms, when all else is dreary 
and desolate ; and, on that account alone, are doubly 
j>rized. I last year did my utmost, and put my 
whole scanty stock of knowledge to the test, in my 
endeavours to repel the enemy; but all in vain. I 
could not afford time to syringe the plants with 
tobacco-water, and again with clear water; and 
smoking seemed useless—the “ fly ” prevailed—and 
a woeful spectacle were my plants. I thought this 
was a disgrace, but on entering the “houses” of my 
friends, I found they were as bad off as myself. There 
was something satisfactory in not being alone; but 
1 determined to have no more to do with them, 
unless I could grow something respectable without 
much trouble (or, I should say time, as trouble to an 
enthusiast is a relish). However, when autumn 
arrived, I thought I would make another trial; so 
at the proper season took up some nice little suckers, 
and housed them. In process of time, there was 
their old foe ! I thought it a hopeless case, but all 
at once an idea struck me, which I immediately put 
in practice. I could not but conceive, if the essence 
of tobacco would extirpate them, surely the odour 
from the “ weed ” itself would prove efficacious ; I 
consequently chopped some very fine, and spread 
over the surface of the mould in the pots, and I have 
the satisfaction of observing, that the effluvium 
arising from it, while in the damp state (which, of 
course, is always the case), has fully realised my 
expectation: the plants are holding up their beads, 
