with pale-coloured veins on the upper side. The footstalks are round and slender, about an inch in length, and of a dull green colour, a little tinged with brown near the base of the leaf. "The flower-buds are very large and round. The scales are also large, thin, and of a pale green colour, very pubescent. "The flowers are of a deep rose colour, and measure no less than four inches in diameter. They are particularly handsome, and well formed, the petals being as numerous The outer as in the flowers of the Double White, and arranged in a similar manner. petals are large, round, and spreading, a little divided, or notched, at their apex, and about an inch and a half in diameter. The greater number of them are roundish concave, and laid over one another with the utmost regularity, in close but distinct rows, each of which diminishes gradually, from the circumference to the centre of the flower, in the number, as well as in the size and form of its petals: the latter becoming narrow, short, and pointed, and somewhat paler in colour than those at the extremity of the flower. Like the Double White, the centre is considerably elevated, and completely filled with petals, forming altogether the most perfect and beautiful double flower that it is possible to conceive. "In colour and general appearance it assimilates very closely to the variety Imbricata or Crimson Shell-flowered, lately introduced by the Horticultural Society, but may at once be distinguished from it, by the greater size of its petals, which are rather darker in colour, and notched; not entire, as the petals of that variety. The foliage of the two plants is also totally different and distinct." The culture of the Camellia Japonica is simple, but the raising of new varieties from "It may seed is a tedious process, from the length of time required to produce bloom. be increased by either layers or cuttings, which are the principal methods in use, but the former is the better method; the branches may be laid down in the autumn, and be For propagation by cuttings, taken off the May following, and planted out in pots. the young shoots should be taken off early in the spring, and planted in pots of light earth." It has been thought to require heat; but experience has proved that nothing further than protection from frost is required, and instances of its standing in the open air are not unfrequent. The work of Mr. Chandler is expensive, but so far as it has proceeded, which is to the completion of a splendid volume of a large, it is a beautiful, collection of a class of flowers, which are deservedly universal favourites. Yours, &c. Q. Q. THE SAVOYARD. BY THE HON. HENRY LIDDELL. A LONE and friendless Savoyard, far from my native home, I think on Savoy's sunny skies, on Savoy's sounding floods, As late I sat me down upon the stranger's threshold stone, A gentle voice above me said, "Rest, rest, poor wearied one." Who gave me alms, and strove to cheer my heart with bread and wine. And as I drank again she spoke, in my own Italian tongue, For bitter blows the winter wind, chilly falls the sleet, And ever in my slumbers, a voice you cannot hear, A HIGHLAND ANECDOTE. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE story is an old but not an ancient one; the actor and sufferer was not a very aged man, when I heard the anecdote in my early youth. Duncan, for so I call him, had been engaged in the affair of 1746, with others of his clan; and was supposed by many to have been an accomplice, if not the principal actor in a certain tragic affair, which made much noise a good many years after the rebellion. I am content with indicating this, in order to give some idea of the man's character, which was bold, fierce, and enterprising. Traces of this natural disposition still remained on Duncan's very good features, and in his keen gray eye. But the limbs, like those of the aged borderer in my former tale, had become unable to serve the purposes and obey the dictates of his inclination. On the one side of his body he retained the proportions and firmness of an active mountaineer; on the other, he was a disabled cripple, scarce able to limp along the streets. The cause which reduced him to this state of infirmity was singular. Twenty years or more before I knew Duncan, he assisted his brothers in farming a large grazing in the Highlands, comprehending an extensive range of mountain and forest land, morass, lake, and precipice. It chanced that a sheep or goat was missed from the flock, and Duncan, not satisfied with despatching his shepherds in one direction, went himself in quest of the fugitive in another. In the course of his researches, he was induced to ascend a small and narrow path, leading to the top of a high precipice. Dangerous as it was at first, the road became doubly so as he advanced. It was not more than two feet broad, so rugged and difficult, and at the same time so terrible, that it would have been impracticable to any but the light step and steady brain of a Highlander. The precipice on the right rose like a wall, and on the left sunk to a depth which it was giddy to look down upon; but Duncan passed cheerfully on, now whistling the Gathering of his Clan, now taking heed to his footsteps, when the difficulties of the path peculiarly required caution. In this manner he had more than half ascended the precipice, when in midway, as it might almost be said, in middle air, he encountered a buck of the red-deer species coming down the cliff by the same path in an opposite direction. If Duncan had had a gun, no rencontre could have been more agreeable; but as he had not this advantage over the denizen of the wilderness, the meeting was in the highest degree unwelcome. Neither party had the power of retreating; for the stag had not room to turn himself in the narrow path, and if Duncan had turned his back to go down, he knew enough of the creature's habits to be certain that he would rush upon him while engaged in the difficulties of the retreat. They stood, therefore, perfectly still, and looked at each other in mutual embarrassment for some space. At length the deer, which was of the largest size, began to lower his formidable *A pastoral farm. antlers, as they do when they are brought to bay, and are preparing to rush upon hound and huntsman. Duncan saw the danger of a conflict in which he must probably come by the worst, and, as a last resource, stretched himself on the little edge of rock which he occupied, and thus awaited the resolution which the deer should take, not making the least motion for fear of alarming the wild and suspicious animal. They remained in this posture for three or four hours, in the midst of a rock which would have suited the pencil of Salvator, and which afforded barely room enough for the man and the stag, opposed to each other in this extraordinary manner. At length the buck seemed to take the resolution of passing over the obstacle which lay in his path, and with this purpose approached towards Duncan very slowly, and with excessive caution. When he came close to the Highlander, he stooped his head down as if to examine him more closely, when the devil, or the untameable love of sport, peculiar to his country, began to overcome Duncan's fears. Seeing the animal proceed so gently, he totally forgot not only the dangers of his position, but the implicit compact which certainly might have been inferred from the circumstances of the situation. With one hand Duncan seized the deer's horn, whilst with the other he drew his dirk. But in the same instant the buck bounded over the precipice, carrying the Highlander along with him. They went thus down upwards of a hundred feet, and were found the next morning on the spot where they fell. Fortune, who does not always regard retributive justice in her dispensations, ordered that the deer should fall undermost and be killed on the spot, while Duncan escaped with life, but with the fracture of a leg, an arm, and three ribs. In this state he was found lying on the carcass of the deer, and the injuries which he had received rendered him for the remainder of his life the cripple I have described. I never could approve of Duncan's conduct towards the deer in a moral point of view (although, as the man in the play said, he was my friend), but the temptation of a hart of grease, offering, as it were, his throat to the knife, would have subdued the virtue of almost any dear-stalker. Whether the anecdote is worth recording, or deserving of illustration, remains for your consideration. I have given you the story exactly as I recollect it. STANZA S. BY LORD MORPETH. WHO has not felt, 'mid azure skies, A soft and mellow sadness rise, And tinge with earth the hues of heaven? That shadowing consciousness will steal And close each cadence of the lyre. In the most radiant landscape's round, O for the suns that never part, The fields with hues unfading dress'd, |