depth of winter. Care should, therefore, be taken that all tropical plants should be dispatched, so as to arrive in this country in mild weather.

With respect to the conveyance of seeds, all those which, from their oily nature, peculiarity of constitution, or any other cause, do not long retain their vegetative powers, are best sown in the mould, either between the other plants, or in cases by themselves. Very great numbers of rare and beautiful plants have been introduced in this way.* As to other seeds, the plan which is now found to be most successful having been published more than eighty years ago by the celebrated John Ellis, I cannot do better than detail it in the words of the author; and I am induced to do so for two reasons,—to render my subject more complete, and to do justice to the memory of a great man, whose clear account has been so strangely overlooked by modern writers.

.....

"Our seedsmen are much distressed for a proper method to keep their seeds sound and in a state of vegetation through a long voyage . . . . . An instance has come to my knowledge which illustrates the different methods of packing and stowing seeds for a long voyage, and it may be of use to

* Many years ago, Mr. Anderson, of the Botanic Garden, Chelsea, received a case full of young clove and nutmeg plants, the seeds of which had been sown on the departure of the case from Trinidad.

notice it, as it not only points out the error, but in some measure how to avoid it.

"A gentleman going to Bencoolen, in the island of Sumatra, had a mind to furnish himself with an assortment of seeds for a kitchen-garden; these were accordingly packed up in boxes and casks, and stowed with other goods in the hold of the ship. When he arrived at Bencoolen he sowed his seeds, but soon found, to his great mortification, that they were all spoiled, for none of them came up. Convinced that it must be owing to the heat of the ship's hold and their long confinement in putrid air, and having occasion to return to England, he determined in his next voyage thither to pack them up in such a manner, and to place them so as to give them as much air as he could, without the danger of exposing them to salt water; and, therefore, put the smaller seeds into separate papers, and placed them among some clean straw in a small close net, and hung it up in his cabin; and the larger ones he put into boxes, stowing them where the free air could come at them and blow through them: the effect was, that as soon as he arrived at Bencoolen he sowed them, and in a little time found, to his great satisfaction, that they all grew extremely well. It is well known to our seedsmen that even here at home, seeds kept in close warehouses and laid up

in heaps, frequently spoil, unless they are often sifted and exposed to the air. Seeds saved in moist cold summers, as their juices are too watery and the substance of their kernels not sufficiently hardened to due ripeness, are by no means fit for exportation to warmer climates.

"Our acorns, unless ripened by a warm summer, will not keep long in England; those acorns which are brought from America, and arrive early in the year, generally come in good order, owing to their juices being better concocted by the heat of their summer, and are not apt to shrivel, when exposed to the sun, as ours are.

“These hints are given to show how necessary it is to take care that the seeds we send should be perfectly ripe and dry.”*

Directions for Captains of Ships, Sea Surgeons, and other curious persons who collect seeds and plants in distant countries, in what manner to preserve them fit for vegetation.”—John Ellis, London, 1770.

CHAPTER V.

ON THE APPLICATION OF THE " CLOSED" PLAN IN IMPROVING THE CONDITION

OF THE POOR.

E'EN in the stifling bosom of the town,

A garden in which nothing thrives, has charms
That soothes the rich possessor; much consoled,
That, here and there, some sprigs of mournful mint,
Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the well
He cultivates. These serve him with a hint
That Nature lives, that sight-refreshing green
Is still the livery she delights to wear,
Though sickly samples of the exuberant whole.
What are the casements lined with creeping herbs,
The prouder sashes, fronted with a range
Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed,

The Frenchman's darling? are they not all proofs
That man, immured in cities, still retains

His inborn, inextinguishable thirst

Of rural scenes, compensating his loss
By supplemental shifts, the best he may?
The most unfurnished with the means of life,
And they that never pass their brick-wall bounds,
To range the fields, and treat their lungs with air,
Yet feel the burning instinct; over head
Suspend their crazy boxes, planted thick,
And watered duly. There the pitcher stands,
A fragment, and the spoutless tea-pot there;
Sad witnesses how close-pent man regrets
The country; with what ardour he contrives
A peep at Nature, when he can no more.

COWPER.

The book of Nature is written in every language, and lies open to all the world. The works of Creation speak in the common voice of reason, and want no interpreter to explain their meaning, but are to be understood by people of all languages upon the face of the earth. There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard.

SHERLOCK.