Amateurs in general, consider the culture of this plant rather difficult. I have, myself, seen numbers under what is termed cultivation, in most miserable condition, huddled up together in small pots, struggling for existence, and placed so far from the glass that they vainly sought to reach more light a long way off-their leaves like cork-screws, devoured and distorted by the green fly. The buyer gets a set of these plants-pays a pretty good price for them-gets them home in the fall of the year, and they remain, most probably in the same pots, till they flower, producing a stem like a screw, with two or three stunted flowers to crown its miserable appearance; and should the cause be inquired into, the reply is, "the climate don't suit them;" a few hot days in this stunted condition, exposed, perhaps, to the direct burning rays of their life destroyer, Sol, and lo! they are gone as the gourd of sacred history.

This is the way that more than half the Calceolarias are grown-destroying the reputation of the parties who sell, by not answering the high description given, and the totally disappointing the purchaser. As for myself, I am not aware of a class of plants more easily grown with a little care, under the following provisions. Remember, in the first place, that Calceolarias require no more heat than a cabbage, and that the green fly, or aphis, is their deadliest enemy. If allowed to remain a day, they suck out the juices of the leaves, and the consequence is, the foliage contracts, curls, and twists up, and when that takes place, all the fumigation and care you could afterwards bestow, would be useless I invariably consider a plant half dead, when I see its foliage curled by aphis. Guard against this insect, and you have achieved the great imagined difficulty in the culture of the Calceolaria. The remainder is simple and easy, and as follows:

I commence with seedlings, and if proper attention is paid to crossing, there is always something interesting and amusing in their development. In fertilizing flowers for seed, select those of the half shrubby varieties-they will stand the hot summer better; use no flowers but such as are good in form; never cross a blotch with a spotted variety, or a striped with a spotted one, if you wish to improve your sorts, as the progeny will generally be nothing more than a jumbled up mixture.

Keep spots, blotches, stripes, and self-colored varieties, crossed respectively in their own class, and after a little practice in this art, you can form a pretty correct idea at the time you are fertilizing, of the ultimate results of your labor.

In raising seedling Calceolarias, you should sow your seed early in August, in broad pans or boxes of sandy earth, covering it but very slightly, and remember never to allow the surface of the soil to become dry. Cover it over thinly with moss, or some such material, as will prevent quick evaporation. There is generally a great difficulty complained of in getting the seed up. It is generally sown and watered-and watered again when dry-and so on, and probably never comes up at all. The simple fact is, the seed when first damp begins to germinate, and if it is then allowed to become dry, it is, of course, killed in the germ. Keeping it constantly damp will obviate this.

As soon as the young plants make their appearance, they require transplanting into pans or boxes of richer soil, and placing in cold frames close to the glass. When they are sufficiently advanced in growth, pot off into three inch pots-keep them cool and near the glass. Repot the young plants always (by turning out the ball,) as soon as you perceive the roots touching the side of the pot; do this irrespective of any prescribed month, until you have them in the sized pot you wish them to flower in. I generally flower them in nine inch pots. If you use rich, open loam, with plenty of well decomposed cow manure, giving the plants good drainage and plenty of water, you will be able to see the true character of your seedlings. Act as above laid down, and the leaves of your seedlings will

measure something like twelve inches long, with a corresponding amount of flower. When the bloom is over, those you esteem worthy of propagation may be readily increased in the following manner. Take some old frames, select a north aspect, and place the back of your frame to the north; put in drainage, and fill up the frame with good, rich, open compost. Then plant out your Calceolarias, giving them a good watering; shade and keep them close for a day or so, to induce them to root. In this situation, if attended to, they will produce a multiplicity of cuttings. To be successful in striking, requires a little carefulness. Four inch pots, well drained and filled with sand, are the best for this purpose. The cuttings should be taken off four or five joints long, placed around the sides of the pot, and well watered.

Take a little box, a yard square and nine inches deep, glazed air tight, placed over an excavated piece of ground of the same dimensions; place the cutting pots on the ground, cover up with your box, and tread the soil tight round the sides. In this simple manner I have struck eight thousand between August and November. The cuttings are never allowed to flag for want of water, or you may as well throw them away at once. In three weeks they will be ready to pot off. I seldom take the box off before the expiration of that time, unless they appear to be very dry. When struck, pot off singly in three inch pots.

The next process is the sytem by which to produce a specimen plant. If you do not require your best selected seedlings for propagation, after they are out of flower, and prefer growing them as specimens for the ensuing year, my process is as follows: When out of flower-cut down, select a north aspect, and plunge up to the rims of the pots; early in September, partially disroot, re-pot, and place them in a close frame; keep them there until you perceive indications of growth; then give air, syringe frequently with water slightly colored with soap; continue potting and re-potting, as directed for the seedlings, and at every potting lay the growing branches regularly all round the pot, and fasten them in their positions with hook pegs. The last potting should be early in February. I then generally use a pot from fifteen to eighteen inches diameter, (what some of our friends about Albany call hogsheads,) pot with rich, open soil, and neatly and regularly peg the shoots down over the surface, and as they continue to grow, continue to peg down; they readily emit new roots from the shoots as they are laid down, and will produce a great number of shoots; and all that are not required should be taken off, which will materially strengthen the selected branches for flowering. Towards the end of March they will throw up their flower stems, which will require to be supported, and properly arranged with small sticks, so that the plant will form a globular mass of well arranged flowers. Amateurs who feel an interest in the cultivation of the Calceolaria, by following this simple treatment, as laid down, will produce a plant when in flower, that will measure four feet diameter, with something like a hundred, or a hundred and twenty flower stems to one plant. But I would here remind amateurs, that he who waters without ascertaining if it is required, or lets his plants remain pot bound, or potting them "when he has time," or permits them to be devoured with aphis, must never expect to realize such a specimen as above described. A WORKING GARDENER.

May 4, 1852.

[A good practical article-by one whose beautifully grown plants we have, if we mistake not, seen more than once. Very few of our floral readers in this country know the curious beauty of the new hybrid Calceolarias, and those who will follow the directions given by our correspondent, will find themselves amply rewarded. ED.]

THE ACACIA DEALBATA-HARDY IN FRANCE:

BY BAPTISTE DESPORTES, ANGERS, FRANCE.

FRENCH horticulture, always seeking to increase our enjoyments, has accomplished a valuable result for the ornament of our parks and landscape gardens. After several years of experiment, it has succeeded in the open air culture of the Acacia (or Mimosa) dealbata.

This tree, so well known in all green-houses, a native of Van Dieman's Island, was first introduced into England in 1818, and into France in 1824. It has proved since then, every year, the greatest ornament of the green-house and the conservatory, growing so luxuriantly, that in a few years it reached the roof, whatever may have been its height elsewhere.

Few green-houses are high enough to allow it to accomplish the development of which it is susceptible; and such is the vigor of its growth, that very often it forces itself through the roof, struggling to attain that freedom of development that nature has granted it. There is something so wonderfully beautiful in its perfect inflorescence, that few persons familiar with good exotic collections, have not frequently paid a just tribute of admiration to this remarkable tree. What can be more graceful than its smooth branches, of a beautiful glaucous green, clad with its delicate persistent foliage of the same color, its myriads of gay, golden flowers, lighter than down, and seeking to envelop it with a floating cloud, gilded by the first beams of the morning. No description can do justice to the lightness, the elegance, and the grace of this truly lovely tree.

Mr. ANDRE LEROY, whose taste in horticulture is universally known, could not behold this tree, upon which nature seems to delight to lavish her gifts, without regretting that it should not be able to attain all its proportions in his extensive nurseries, so as to embellish with its masses of beauty, the numerous parks and plantations which he forms every year. Being desirous to know to what extent it could endure the rigor of the winter, he planted several in the open air, which not only resisted without injury, the most intense cold known in the south of France, but which soon established a growth such as we were not acquainted with in any other tree.

Several of these Acacias, planted three years since, merely against a wall, with a northern exposure, are now sixteen feet high; their branches nearly six feet long; the flowers which cover them are so abundant, and so finely relieved against the back-ground of glaucous foliage, that they resemble a large golden sheaf of the most graceful and elegant form. Others, planted at the same time, and entirely in the open air, that is to say, without any protection, are not at all inferior to the first, in luxuriance and vigor of growth.

The first tree of this kind planted in the open air at Angers, is now eight or nine years old, and more than twenty-six feet high; its branches are nearly eight feet in length, and extend in every direction, bending under the astonishing mass of its flowers. It is not possible to do justice to the beauty and the brilliancy of the bloom of this tree; and whoever has not seen it in all its splendor, can form but a very imperfect idea of it.

One remarkable fact about this Acacia is, that it continues to grow all the year round, and even during the winter months, the vegetation scarcely seems to be arrested. The flower-buds begin to appear at the end of summer; they remain in perfect preservation until the first fine days of spring; and towards the end of March, when the gardens begin to throw off their winter garb, the tree rapidly bursts into its greatest beauty.

Angers, which seems the chosen country of Flora, and for that reason, doubtless, has

been called "the Nursery of France," is situated between the 47th and 48th degrees of north latitude; the temperature is tolerably uniform, although the centigrade thermometer sometimes falls there below 12o, (5° above zero of Fahrenheit;) but there are none of those sudden changes which are so injurious to vegetation, in disorganizing the tissues. The severe frosts occur generally in December and January, and a thaw almost always takes place during a cloudy and foggy season, owing, no doubt, to the influence of the four rivers which surround Angers, and whose fogs counteract, by intercepting them, the rays of the sun. Owing to these favorable circumstances, we are able to cultivate in the open air, so great a number of plants, such as Camellias, and evergreen Magnolias, which do not succeed so well even in countries farther south than the city of Angers. Besides the above mentioned frosts, they also occur in March and April, of three, four, and five degrees, and sometimes more; these, although less severe than those of winter, are, however, much more injurious, because they occur at a season when vegetation is already under way, and when all the sap-vessels are much more sensitive to atmospheric influences. The soil of Angers and its environs is argillaceous, resting upon a stratum of silicious rock of great depth, but permeable to water; it is easily warmed; the deposit of vegetable earth varies from eighteen to twenty-four inches in thickness.

I have entered into all these details of the nature of the climate and soil, in order to give a clear idea of the circumstances, in the midst of which the open air cultivation of this Acacia is accomplished; a tree which, for a long time, it was not thought possible to cultivate except in the hot-house or conservatory.

When I take into consideration the vast extent of the territory of the United States of America—when I recall the luxuriant and varied vegetation covering the different portions of that western soil, and which I was never weary of admiring when I had the happiness of visiting it, I do not doubt that the southern and temperate latitudes are as favorable as our own, and that the open air cultivation of this superb Acacia may be equally successful, which will add still more to the natural riches of those pretty country seats, whose beauty is only equalled by the vegetation that surrounds them.

I shall be happy, if, in introducing to the readers of that excellent Journal, the Horticulturist, so beautiful an acquisition to horticulture, I might be able to induce some of those similarly located as to climate, to attempt experiments, the success of which will repay them for their efforts. BAPTISTE DESPORTES, Nurseryman at Angers, (France.)

[We hope some of our readers in the southern states will profit by M. Desportes' valuable hints. No doubt this, and other Acacias, would be found perfectly hardy as far north as Columbia, in South Carolina.]

EVERGREENS-THEIR USE AND CULTURE.

BY JAS. RICHARDSON, JR., DEDHAM, MASS.

We have often thought of painting, as a lesson and study for our friends in various parts of the land, who have the good fortune to reside in the country-two pictures; the one representing a house pleasantly situated, but wholly without shrubbery, lawns, or shade trees, bare, naked, and dreary as Sahara; the other, its counterpart, depicting the same house, charmingly environed by green and velvety lawns, with blooming shrubbery, fine shade trees, and groups of beautiful evergreens. And, we cannot but believe, that the

latter picture would so much surpass the former in its attractiveness, as to have a very striking effect upon every beholder, and help to bring about a great and delightful change in the appearance of country seats, farms, and villages. It is true, that the old destructive system of cutting down and burning up everything in the shape of a shade tree,— thanks to the efforts of yourself, Mr. Editor, and other philanthropists like you-has fortunately been banished from the civilised parts of the country, and that there is a growing interest in planting the graceful Elm, magnificent Maple, and other noble natives of the forest, around our houses, and along the lines of our streets, at least-and that men of real taste and intelligence are doing something more than merely setting out long, stiff, fornial rows of shades; but still, the soul as well as sense, is continually pained at sight of bleak, bare hills, and stark-naked, staring houses, baking in the summer's sun, or shivering in the freezing blast of winter. Indeed, though we have in our northern states, six to eight months of winter-as witness the season now so grudgingly passing awayyet, in all our rural embellishments, we have scarely given a thought to the improvement and adornment of the wintry landscape. And, notwithstanding that many of the most beautiful evergreens in the world are indigenous to the soil, there is hardly an instance where they have been employed to any extent among us. When we reflect that the graceful, feathery Hemlock, the fringed and sombre Black Spruce, and the sun-shiny Yellow Spruce (which, when well cultivated and flourishing, can scarcely be distinguished from his more fashionable cousin of Norway)-the stately spires of Fir,-the grand and noble White Pine the curious and beautiful Holly-the pyramidal Arborvita-the rich green of the low growing Yew-the splendid Rhododendron, and the Magnificent Mountain Laurel, are all found, growing in wild luxuriance, even within the borders of "the old Bay State," we shall see how unnecessary it is to go abroad for beautiful evergreens, and wonder that these native resources for adorning our grounds and villages, and especially for embellishing the wintry scene, should have been so utterly neglected.

Use gives fitness and propriety, and hence use is an element of beauty. And a fine evergreen tree, like all things else in nature, is not only a beautiful object in itself, but the idea of cooling shade in the summer solstice, and protection and defence againt the inclement blasts of winter-the idea of use adds a new charm, and has the effect to enhance the pleasure one experiences at contemplating a luxuriant group of such trees. When the hills, and fields, and plains, are stripped of their leafy verdure, and all is bleak and bare, or covered as far as the eye can see, with a dreary expanse of cold and drifting snow, what a relief to the wearied vision, what a charming and beautiful effect does a line or group of living verdure, here and there, give to the wintry and desolate scene. We were strongly impressed with this fact, in visiting, during the last winter, a beautiful New-England village, in which some of the earliest inhabitants had the wisdom and good taste, years ago, to plant, here and there, groups of such trees; and we remarked, that they not only relieved and beautified the dreary sameness of the snow-clad scene, but that they seemed even to give a positive warmth and comfort. . And we have no doubt, that on places exposed to the cold winds, they would contribute very much, not only to shelter human dwellings with their denizens, from the severity of their winter assaults, but that planted on the north side, and thus not in the way of the sun-shine, they would form quite an effectual barrier against the severe boreal blasts, afford a protection to fruit trees, and even to tender shrubbery, and really prevent the frost from striking down deep into the soil. Even setting aside all considerations of beauty, we would advise the planting of belts and screens of evergreens, for the sole purpose of protecting gardens, orchards, and the ground itself, from freezing winds. Many a choice exotic shrub, and tender delicate