Are considerations of expense, then, to be entirely overlooked or set aside? By no means. No man beginneth to build a tower without first counting the cost. But surely he must previously, and first of all, endeavor to form a clear idea of what the tower ought to be, and of what the circumstances require at his hands.

The peculiarities of the site, or of the neighborhood, will all be considered by the judicious architect. He will endeavor to work out his design in accordance with these, having a truthful regard to the circumstances of the case, and an enlightened view to the ultimate good of the whole. Having thus endeavored to form a clear idea of the extent and character of the proposed work, he will, while attempting to realize it, and give it form, employ all the artistic skill at his command. In this way, the mind is left unfettered, and free to choose from amidst all the forms of beauty which fancy can disclose. And it is only by following such a course, that architecture can be entitled to take its place, and rank first among the fine arts. Painting and Sculpture will then become her handmaidens, ever in attendance to adorn and exalt her.

It is at this stage of the proceeding that the question of expense comes up in its natural order a question deserving ample inquiry, and an honest answer; and in no department of his art are the skill and qualifications of the architect more severely put to the test. The pecuniary interests of his employer are confided to his care: he looks to him, on the one hand, for protection against the undue demands of the contractor, and on the other, against an undue increase of additional works arising from his own neglect or oversight. The architect, then, requires not only a thorough knowledge of the qualities of the various departments of work, but of their value, and of the modes of measurement, in order to be able to judge of the rates of charge. Though called on to look to the interests of his employer, he is equally required to see that justice be done to the contractor. And when the accounts come to be submitted to his award, he is to act with the uprightness and integrity of a judge, and is bound to see justice done, at whatever sacrifice of feeling or of self-interest,—a task, this, at once difficult and delicate, requiring a thorough knowledge of the value of the varied and multitudinous items connected with the building art, which can only be acquired by laborious and incessant perseverance.

The want of proper skill in these matters, or perhaps of proper attention to them, is the cause of that fatal error which so frequently occurs, of estimating the probable expense of a contemplated work, at a sum far below what it is possible to execute it for. Such a system is injurious to the best interests of true art. It engenders suspicion and distrust, and its inevitable result is to make in future, the question of cost a paramount object. And while in the first instance it may only affect the pockets of the employer, it is sure in the end to tell against the architect. Complaints against this system are not new. It is curious and instructive to find they are greatly more ancient than the days of old Vitruvius himself, as the following extract from the writings of that most judicious author, amply testify.

"In the magnificent and spacious city of Ephesus," says that author, "an ancient law was made by the ancestors of the inhabitants, hard, indeed, in its nature, but nevertheless equitable. When an architect was entrusted with the execution of a public work, an estimate thereof being lodged in the hands of the magistrate, his property was held as security until the work was finished. If, when finished, the expense did not exceed the estimate, he was complimented with decrees and honors. So when the excess did not amount to more than a fourth part of the original estimate, no punishment was inflicted. But when more than one-fourth of the estimate was exceeded, he was required to pay the excess out of his own pocket. Would to God that such a law existed among the Roman

people, not only in respect of their public, but also of their private buildings, for then the unskillful could not commit their depredations with impunity, and those who were the most skillful in the intricacies of the art, would follow the profession. Proprietors would not be led into an extravagant expenditure, so as to cause their ruin. Architects, themselves, from the dread of punishment, would be more careful in their calculations, and the proprietor would complete his building for that sum, or a little more, which he could afford to expend. Those who can conveniently afford to expend a given sum on any work, with the pleasing expectation of seeing it completed, would cheerfully add one-fourth more; but when they find themselves burdened with the addition of half, or even more than half the expense originally contemplated, losing their spirits, and sacrificing what has been already laid out, they incline to desist from its completion."

But on the other hand, it not unfrequently happens that complaints of this kind are most unjustly preferred against the architect, who is often in this respect more sinned against than sinning. How often are his designs cut down and denuded of their fair proportions in order to effect some trifling saving in expense? and after being contracted for in their modified form, how frequently does it occur that, during the progress of the work, one item is ordered after another, by the proprietor, without due regard to the effect which these will have upon what has already been done? and the result is, that the whole becomes an incongruous piece of patchwork; and there remains the mortifying reflection that in consequence of the contracts having been interfered with, the "bills of extra work," added to the estimate, greatly exceed the sum that would have served to complete the original well-matured design. To the architect imbued with a true feeling for his art, nothing can be more tantalizing than such a result, for which he is in no way responsible, and for which he is often most unjustly blamed. It is always unwise, and seldom very safe, to interfere with plans after the work has been contracted for and fairly commenced. None but those in the practice of design, can conceive how entirely one part hangs on another, and how dangerous it is to interfere with any architectural work after it is in progress. While only on paper, it may be modified or reconstructed as often as circumstances require, as, in this case, the effect of any alteration is at once seen and provided for, by a re-adjustment of the other portions, until the whole is brought into harmony. But when once contracted for, the design ought to be inviolable. Alterations in these circumsmstances are always costly, and the architect would do well to set his face resolutely against them. This may at times, be a delicate task, requiring tact and judgment, but it is a duty which no architect who values his reputation should shrink from performing.

Where economy requires to be very closely studied, the old Vitruvian rule of avoiding materials which are not easily procured and prepared on the spot, is still the most effective, and of most general application. The building materials of the neighborhood, besides being the cheapest, generally harmonise better with the landscape, than those which are foreign to the soil. England's brick mansions of the olden time, however beautiful amidst their "tall ancestral trees," would ill accord with the stern clime and rugged scenery of the north. In ordinary cases, therefore, where mere general effect is all that can be aimed at, the building materials of the district, being not only less costly, but more artistic and effective, are to be preferred.

All ornamentation, where economy is an object, should be dispensed with; for unless fully carried out, it but serves to betray the poverty which it is meant to hide. Simplicity of outline, and a due proportion of the several forms, add nothing to the cost; and where these are properly attended to, the result will generally prove satisfactory.

Admitting then, to the fullest extent, the importance of the question, in its proper place,

which forms the subject of this paper, I have endeavored, on the one hand, to point out the very injurious effects to architecture, as a branch of the fine arts, which follow from giving it the precedence of all our other inquiries. Its tendency is to degrade art, and to cover the country with monuments interesting to archæologists only as marking the moneyloving spirit of their epoch, and the low state of the art at the time.

On the other hand, I have endeavored to point out the proper period at which the allimportant question as to cost ought to be determined, and the no less injurious effects which a wrong solution of the problem has upon art, and the necessity there is of the architect being thoroughly qualified to form correct estimates of the value of building materials and of labor, so that he may be able to adjust his design to the money proposed to be expended.

These remarks, it is true, do not directly bear on the principles of art or architecture, and they may in consequence appear to some, to be of too humble a nature to form the subject of a paper. But if I have succeeded in conveying in any degree, a just sense of the importance, in architectural design, of limiting to its proper place the question "What will it cost," and of giving it, in its own place, a full and honest answer, I shall feel that my labors, however humble, have not been altogether in vain. DAVID COUSIN.

THE NEW DAISY CHRYSANTHEMUMS.

THE old varieties of the Chrysanthemums, (popularly known by many as Artemesias,) have long been inmates of our gardens and green-houses-where they are esteemed for cheating even November and December, (those two dreariest months of the year to the devotees of Flora,) into something like a gay appearance.

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Some new varieties have lately been introduced into this country, so distinct in their pearance, as, at first sight, to be scarcely recognized as the same flowers. We mean the Daisy Chrysanthemums—of which the accompanying sketch of a boquet of the different varieties, affords a good idea. The flowers, (shown exactly the natural size,) are so small, and so neatly formed, as to look far more like daisies, or quilled China Asters, than Chrysanthemums. The plants, too, are dwarf and bushy, occupying far less space in the greenhouse, than the old sorts. For the garden, they are, we believe, equally hardy with the latter.

All these small flowered Chrysanthemums have, we believe, been originated from seed by the French florists, from a variety called the "Chusan Daisy," brought out from China by Mr. FORTUNE.

Messrs. PARSONS, of Flushing, THORBURN, of New-York, and other leading florists, had pretty collections of these miniature, or Daisy Chrysanthemums, in bloom last autumn, and they may no doubt be had this spring at any of the large general nurseries, at very moderate prices.

We received last autumn, from Messrs. ELLWANGER & BARRY, of the Mount Hope Nurseries, Rochester, a small box, containing some exquisite blooms of these Daisy Chrysanthemums-so clear and pretty in color, and so petite and distinct in form, as to be mistaken at first sight for rare small asters. The following are the names of the sorts from Messrs. E. & B:

Daphies.-Crimsom purple-quilled and prettily formed.
Circea.-Light pink-very delicate.

La Fiancee.-Pure white-round and small, like a small white Daisy-one of the best. Le Jongleur.-Yellow-with orange center.

Soulidelta.-Purplish pink and white-prettily shaded.

Le Safrajon.-Yellowish brown.

Eliza Miellez.-Light pink-open centre.

Eurinone.-Dark pink-good flower.

The following are excellent varieties of the Daisy Chrysanthemums, which are to be had in some of the nurseries:

Cupidon.-Light crimson-full double-inclining to purple.

Migronetti-Flower very double, imbricated-about half an inch in diameter-color

lilac.

Picciolina.-Rosy white-regular in form-about three quarters of an inch in dia

meter.

Nivi.-Fine small crimson flower, about half an inch across.

Le Feu Follet.-Rich beautiful crimson--nearly an inch in diameter.
Le Pygmee.-Yellow-full double-about half an inch broad.
Cora.-Color silvery, inclining to purple-flowers quite small.

Reviews.

WALKS AND TALKS OF AN AMERICAN FARMER IN ENGLAND, with Illustrations: By FRED. LAW OLMSTED. [Putnam's Family Library, No. III; price 25 cents.] HERE is a book of travels with a smack of novelty about it. Mr. OLMSTED is one of our original young Yankee farmers, who, not being satisfied with knowing the old world, and its farming ways especially, through the books of literary men, set out to see Europe with his own eyes, and learn what he could by actual experience. Accordingly, he eschews railroads, post-coaches, and the like modern conveniences for reducing all the civilized world to one dead level of interest, and takes to his legs, to spy out the beauty as well as the nakedness of the mother country, for himself.

A very pleasant bit of travel he has made of it, with no dust in his eyes-for Mr. OLMSTED is one of the new school of American farmers, without a single old prejudice, wide awake on all questions of the times, and a believer in the largest interpretation of the future of the people. He looks around him with his democratic eyes wide open, and peers into all the musty and rotten corners of mother England, as well as many of her bright and glorious places, that she offers to the eyesight and reflection of all strangers. Travelling on foot, and thus entering into conversation, sometimes with relations of intimacy, with the heart of the people, is undoubtedly the true way of getting at the pith of weal and woe of a country. You free yourself, in this way, of the "company manners" of the nation, and see it in its homely, genuine, earnest life-the good and bad mixed, like woof and warp of individual character.

Mr. OLMSTED's book is extremely fresh and honest, and you travel along with him through the great lanes, and between hedges of hawthorns, snowy with blossoms. You talk with milk-maids about making cheese; with farmers about the misery they find in free trade, and with your neat landlady, who serves you with the mug of "home-brewed," quite as if you too, had your "short, crooked sapling for a walking stick," and were his fellow traveller on a long jog."

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