house of the Duchess of Montrose, who had always borne a part in my distresses, and to whom I confided the joyful intelligence of his lordship's escape. When I left the duchess, I went to a house which Evans had found out for me, and where she promised to acquaint me where my lord was. I learned that his lordship was in the house of a poor woman, directly opposite to the guard-house, and I went thither. The woman had but one small room up one pair of stairs, and a very small bed in it. We threw ourselves upon the bed, that we might not be heard walking up and down. She left us a bottle of wine and some bread, and Mrs Mills brought us some more in her pocket the next day. We subsisted on this provision from Thursday till Saturday night, when Mrs Mills came, and conducted my lord to the Venetian ambassador's. We did not communicate the affair to his Excellency; but one of his servants concealed him in his own room till Wednesday, on which day the ambassador's coach-and-six was to go down to Dover, to meet his brother. My lord put on a livery, and went down in the retinue, without the least suspicion, to Dover, where Mr Mitchell (which was the name of the ambassador's servant) hired a small vessel, and immediately set sail for Calais. The passage was so remarkably short, that the captain threw out this reflection, that the wind could not have served better if his passengers had been fleeing for their lives; little thinking it to be really the case. Mr Mitchell might have easily returned without being suspected of having been concerned in my lord's escape; but my lord seemed inclined to have him continue with him; which he did, and has at present a good place under our young master.

'For my part, I absconded to the house of a very honest man in Drury Lane, where I remained till I was assured of my lord's safe arrival on the continent. With regard to myself, it was decided by government, that if I remained concealed, no further search should be made; but if that I appeared either in England or Scotland, I should be secured. But that was not sufficient for me, unless I could submit to expose my son to beggary.'

The countess concludes her interesting relation by mentioning that she went to Scotland to secure the family papers, and having effected this object, she returned to London, and made a strong appeal on her own and her son's behalf to George II. This petition was treated with indignity; and she was advised by her friends to leave the kingdom. The countess accordingly went abroad, and joined her exiled husband. It may be added, that the Nithisdale peerage, over which this lady's conjugal affection and heroic intrepidity shed a brilliant lustre, was never restored after the attainder of 1715; and the last direct heir of this noble House unfortunately perished many years ago in the waters of the Nith.

32

HE beauty and variety of flowers, the fragrance and freshness which we are insensibly led to associate with them, have long been themes of the poet. Wilberforce prettily says of them that they are 'the smiles of God's goodness;' and pages could be filled with tender poetic addresses to flowers, both wild and cultured-for are they not beautiful and suggestive wherever they blossom? All, unfortunately, have not an opportunity of seeing flowers in the fields, or even in gardens; but there are few who have not the power of rearing flowers, ferns, and other cheering forms of vegetation; for what is accomplished by the professional gardener, may be imitated on a small scale by domestic culture, and with comparatively less expense, as our apartments yield that shelter and temperature which it costs the gardener so much to obtain.

The individual, therefore, who can rear in his window-recess, in
No. 6.

his lobby, or around his porch, the shrubs and flowers of his own and other lands, has always something to engage the attention, and to preserve the mind from listlessness or from positively pernicious pursuits. Any member of a family who has a little stand of plants to water, to clean, and prune, has always a pleasant daily recreation before him; his love and care increase with these objects; the simple duty becomes necessary to his happiness; and he has thus what so many are miserable for the want of-something to occupy leisure hours. Plants are objects of beauty and ornament. Why is yonder lowly cottage more lovely and inviting than the large farmhouse on the other side of the river? Simply because its walls are trellised with the rose and honeysuckle, and its porch with the clambering hop, whose dark-green contrasts so finely with the whitewashed front; while the latter is as cold and uninviting as bare stone walls can make it. So it is with any apartment, however humble. The little stand of flowers in the window-recess, with their green leaves and brilliant blossoms, adds a charm and freshness to the place; and we will answer for it, that wherever these are, the furniture, though mean, will be clean and neatly arranged.

The indoor culture of plants is also intimately connected with the sanitary condition of our dwellings.. The oxygen of the atmosphere is indispensable to the respiration of animals;; it purifies their blood, and affords them internal heat; and, combining with particles ready to be removed from every part off the frame, is expired in the form of carbonic acid gas (a compound of oxygen and carbon). This gas, which is deleterious to animal life, constitutes the main nourishment of plants, which absorb it, appropriate its carbon, and restore its oxygen to the amosphere, again to be breathed in purity by men and animals. It is true that pure air is necessary alike to the life of plants and animals; but the amount of oxygen absorbed by the former is by no means equal to that which they restore, and thus through their agency the atmosphere is kept in healthy equilibrium. It is only during the day, and under the influence of light, however, that carbonic acid is employed for the nutrition of plants; that which they absorb during night is returned into the atmosphere with the water which is continually evaporating from the surface of the leaves. From this explanation, it will be understood how the night-air of an apartment containing flowers is said to be less healthy than the atmosphere which pervades it during the day; though, under ordinary states of ventilation, no danger need be apprehended from this source. Besides their directly purifying influence, plants also tend indirectly to the health of dwellingapartments. For their sake, the window that contains them will be oftener cleaned, the sash will be more frequently thrown open, and the air and sunshine intended for them will also lighten and purify the interior of the apartment. As to the amount of horticultural skill necessary for domestic flower-culture, it need not be very great.

It is true that particular plants require particular treatment as to moisture, exposure to sunlight, &c.-that some climb, others creepsome require support, others float on water-some remain evergreen, others demand periods of dormancy or rest; but all this can be learned of any gardener from whom the particular plant is obtained. Indeed, care and regularity are more required than science or art, as may be seen by the frequent displays of plants to be met with in the houses of individuals who never read a line about horticulture in their lives. Let any one look at the immense variety of plants grown in the windows of the more tasteful of our artisans and labourers, and then all his objections as to skill will immediately vanish.

Certain conditions of air, light, heat, and moisture are indispensable to the growth and perfection of every plant. Besides these conditions, land-plants generally require the aid of soil, from which they receive certain mineral or inorganic ingredients; but soil is not necessary to all vegetation, for sea-weeds and floating aquatics are independent of it, and many plants will flourish and propagate even suspended in air. Thus, many orchids and other plants which grow upon the boughs of trees in warm climates, and which are therefore called epiphytes-from two Greek words, epi, upon, and phyton, a plant-derive no part of their nourishment from the trees to which they have affixed themselves. Air, light, heat, and moisture may be therefore said to be essential conditions; soil, non-essential. As it is, however, with land-plants that the domestic cultivator has most to do, air, light, moisture, and soil may be considered as alike necessary to his purpose. Atmospheric air is a compound of nitrogen and oxygen gases, with a small admixture of carbonic acid and watery vapour; moisture or water is composed of hydrogen and oxygen; and light and heat we only know by their effects. From air and moisture, plants derive the chief part, if not the whole, of their organic constituents, such as woody fibre, starch, sugar, gum, oils, resin, and the like; and from the soil they chiefly derive their inorganic constituents, which consist of minute portions of certain earths, alkalies, and metals-as silica, lime, magnesia, potash, soda, iron, &c., all of which exist in the soil. Sulphur and phosphorus also enter into the composition of plants. Every plant requires certain elements for its healthy growth, some kinds more of one element than another; and unless these be supplied to it, it will languish and die. From these statements, the intending cultivator will see that the atmosphere must have admission to his plants, and that certain kinds of these must be grown in peculiar mixtures of soil, whether sand, clay, peat-earth, or loam. Moisture is equally necessary in quantities proportionate to the nature of the vegetable. Some species require a dry, others a damp atmosphere; some will not flourish unless the soil in which they are planted be drenched, others may be watered only at distant

intervals. These are matters to be learned by experience, from books, or from professional men. The same may be said of light and warmth. A certain degree of light is necessary to perfect growth; but some plants, as ferns, wood-sorrel, &c., naturally love shady situations, and therefore require it less. The majority of floweringplants, however, delight in the open air and sunshine, assuming the most brilliant hues when exposed to these, and becoming blanched and sickly when excluded from their influence. Every person must have seen the white and slender stem of a potato grown in a darkened cellar, and must have also observed how the plants reared in a window naturally turn their leaves and branches to the light. Regular exposure and turning of plants to light are quite as necessary as air or moisture, if we would grow them healthy and of proper shapes. As to warmth, every vegetable has naturally its own climate; we imitate mild and temperate regions by the green-house, and produce the heat of the tropics by the stove. In domestic apartments, it would be inconvenient and deleterious to produce more than a certain amount of either heat or cold, shade or moisture; and therefore we must either grow such plants as are suitable to the ordinary state of our dwellings, or devise means of placing them in isolated compartments.

Besides the above conditions, there is another of equal importance, which is but too generally neglected. The great aim, if we may so speak, of every plant during the season of growth seems to be the perfection of its seed. This accomplished, either death or a period of dormancy ensues. Annuals and biennials die after the first seeding; but the whole life of annuals is comprised within one year, and often within a small part of it; that of biennials extends over parts of two years, their flowers not appearing till the spring or summer of the second year: perennials live and propagate for several or many years. Instead, therefore, of being forced into perpetual growth by the application of heat and moisture, perennials ought to be treated so that they may enjoy the same period of rest that they do in a state of nature. It matters not whether they are deciduous or evergreen. There must be a season of repose, be it for a few weeks or for several months, otherwise their vegetative powers are weakened, and they will not present a perfect development of flower and seed. Judicious cultivators will therefore attend to this, by gradually withdrawing heat, moisture, and other incentives to growth, at the proper season. Cactuses, for example, in their native plains of tropical America, luxuriate most during the rainy season, and become dormant with the period of drought. A similar seasonal recurrence should be imitated by the cultivator, if he wishes to preserve these wonderful succulents in healthy order. And so it is, less or more, with all other vegetables; some require to be kept from heat and moisture; others, as bulbs and corms, to be placed in dry sand, or even to be unearthed altogether. The pruning and