"Oh Proserpina! For the Flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall That come before the Swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; Violets dim, Or Cytherea's breath; pale Primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phœbus in his strength; bold Oxlips and The Flower-de-Luce being one. Come take your flowers; In Whitsun Pastorals."-The Winter's Tale. "FULL, as the bee of thyme,' "* the Second Volume of the Parterre seeks its place on the rosewood work-table, and the oaken library shelf. It would be worse than foolish, to recite its various pleas for admission into those graceful sanctuaries-the study and the withdrawingroom; since those who shut their eyes upon the superficial excellences of paper, type, and embellishment, can no more be expected to enjoy the literary treasures they illustrate, than the man, who is too idle or too dull to admire the flowers of nature's carpet, would be tempted to scrutinize the ore and jewels of the mine below. Demosthenes, in the zenith of his popularity, is said to have exclaimed (and perhaps with more bitterness than met the ear), "Oh ye Athenians, how hard do I labour to obtain your praise!" Little do those who with indifference take up, and, with indolent eye, peruse the lucubrations of the Periodical, reflect upon the care, the consideration, the taste, the talent, the research, which, gathering like Genii around the midnight lamp of intellectual toil, have contributed their aid to the composition of a single paper! How often hath the wearied hand laid down and resumed the pen, how often hath enthusiasm (alas! perhaps necessity) repulsed the invader Sleep, in the production of a * Herrick, |