The Phoenicians found on their coast an abundance of the mollusk (Nassa purpura of naturalists), from which they extracted a purple pigment. This became to them an important article of trade, and the world resounded with the praises of "Tyrian dye." The ancients had not many colours, and it was but natural the Greeks should name the purple they so much esteemed after the people who produced it. Thus it became known to them as the "Phoenician colour," and the Romans subsequently modified the term, so that with them it became the "Punic colour." Thus the botanist has been provided with a choice of two (in addition to many more) terms available for the indication of the colours of flowers. This purple or crimson flower of South America he has named Petunia phoenicea, and the brilliant glory pea of New Zealand he has named Clianthus puniceus, which, of course, was no more known to the Tyrians and Sidonians than the flower before us.

The petunia is almost a tobacco, and it will interest the observant loiterer in the garden to compare it with the noble Virginia tobacco, which is well worth growing for its stately carriage and beautiful flowers. Indeed, the petunia is a tobacco, for its Brazilian name petun, from which is derived petunia, means tobacco, and it is fair to suppose that, if the plant were dried and prepared, it would be found to possess distinctly fragrant and narcotic properties. A sheet of petunias in full flower is a glorious sight, and the odour the flowers emit when the sun shines full upon them is agreeable, but the plant is not a nice one to handle or examine; its leafage is unhandsome, its habit ungainly, its substance is clammy, and certainly does at times give the nose a reminder of tobacco.

The systematic crossing of a few distinct species of petunia has resulted in the production of a number of splendid varieties, which are invaluable as garden plants. The showy single white, purple, and striped kinds may be raised from seed sown on a hot-bed in March, and if planted out in May will flower superbly as the season advances. Treated in this way, the petunia is one of the cheapest and grandest of annuals, and as it makes a sumptuous bed, the owner of a country garden may turn it to good account, especially where the soil is hot and sandy, for this suits the plant perfectly. The double varieties make magnificent pot plants, and require precisely or nearly the same treatment as geraniums, the two grand points in their management being to train them with care and keep them short and leafy to the bottom. They require a light rich soil, and to be safe from all extreme conditions, more especially from extreme heat, for when unduly forced they become infested with vermin, and if they cannot be quickly cleansed by means of tobacco smoke, they may as well be destroyed, for when they have once gone wrong to any serious extent they never recover. Reasonable care, however, will prevent any such mishap, and, as remarked above, the matter of main importance is to guard against extreme conditions. It is especially worthy of remark that the petunia is more hardy than the geranium, perhaps even a trifle more hardy than the calceolaria; hence it may be planted out somewhat early in May if the weather is cloudy and genial, and if the plants escape harm from frost-as with a little care in sheltering they will-they will soon make a free growth and shake off any trace of aphis or other insect pest they may have been troubled with, and make an early and

splendid bloom. It is usual to peg them down when in beds, but they thrive better and look better when allowed to stand up, and therefore petunias are well adapted to form low flowery hedges in the flower garden. In Paris they are much employed in this way in combination with white "marguerites," the result being a dense hedge of about a foot to a foot and a half in height, composed of two close lines of purple and white flowers. When enclosing a small plot of grass this is very effective.

The named varieties are propagated from cuttings in July and August without the aid of artificial heat. The best place wherein to winter them is a cold dry pit, for damp is death to them; they cannot endure a touch of frost, and, generally speaking, the greenhouse is too warm. When kept sufficiently cool they are entirely free from vermin; indeed, the amateur gardener may with advantage regard as a doctrine that the liability of a plant to the attacks of vermin is in direct proportion to mismanagement in respect of temperature and moisture; generally speaking, when a plant becomes covered with "fly" or spider," it is the consequence of insufficient ventilation.