and when there are two varieties of it, the towering alternate spikes of white and purple form a pretty contrast with the deep yellow of the lofty great flowering Solidago, or golden rod; both plants being highly ornamental to garden borders. Towards the middle of the month, the spiked willow, hyssop, and the bell-flower (Campanula), have their flowers full blown. The virginian sumach now exhibits its scarlet tufts of flowers upon its bright green circles of leaves. The berries of the mountain ash turn red. Lavender and jessamine are now in blossom.

The scarlet lychnis is in bloom, and, with its rich coronets of flowers growing on a tall slender stem, adds greatly to the beauty of the garden. Among the flowers of summer, we must not forget to mention the evening primrose (Ænothera biennis). This plant bears its primrose-coloured flowers on branches of three or four feet in height, and hence it is called the tree-primrose, or evening star, because the flowers regularly burst open and expand in the evening, between six and seven o'clock.

To the EVENING PRIMRose.

Fair flow'r, that shunn'st the glare of day,
Yet lov'st to open, meekly bold,

To evening's hues of sober grey
Thy cup of paly gold ;—

Be thine the offering, owing long
To thee, and to this pensive hour,
Of one brief tributary song,

Though transient as thy flower.

I love to watch at silent eve

Thy scattered blossoms' lonely light,
And have my inmost heart receive
The influence of that sight.

I love at such an hour to mark

Their beauty greet the night-breeze chill,
And shine, mid shadows gathering dark,
The garden's glory still.

For such 'tis sweet to think the while,

When cares and griefs the breast invade,

In friendship's animating smile

In sorrow's dark'ning shade.

Thus it bursts forth, like thy pale cup
Glist'ning amid its dewy tears,
And bears the sinking spirit up
Amid its chilling fears.

But still more animating far,

If meek Religion's eye may trace,
E'en in thy glimm'ring earth-born star,
The holier hope of Grace.

The hope—that as thy beauteous bloom
Expands to glad the close of day,
So through the shadows of the tomb
May break forth Mercy's ray.

BARTON'S Poetic Vigils.

As summer advances, the vocal music of the groves is lessened, and in this month may be said to cease altogether-if we except the chirping of the wren and two or three small birds. The yellow hammer (Emberiza citrinella) forms its nest and lays its eggs very late in the year, it being quite the end of June, or the beginning of July, before any number of them are found: the eggs are to be distinguished from those of every other bird by their being figured with irregular hair-like scratches, as if marked with a pen; so much so, that, in the midland counties, this bird is called the 'scribbling or writing lark.' I have seen this bird (says our Huntingdonshire correspondent) on the grass-plot in my garden in a hard frost, in winter. Some curious particulars of the yellow hammer may be seen in our last volume, p. 196.

The beautiful but evanescent flowers of the convolvulus are now open; they live but for a day, opening their cups in the morning, and at sunset closing them for ever. This, on account of the profusion of buds, is not generally noticed, and numberless successors take off our attention from the flower which 'has lived its little day,' and is now no more. How beautiful and affecting an emblem of human life does this simple convolvulus present to us!-The gay, the young, whose existence has seemed but a day, are cut off, and others, equally gay and equally mortal,

occupy their places; and the remembrance of them is quickly dissipated by the attractions of their successors, who, perhaps, like them, are doomed early to submit to the common lot of humanity:

Days on years thus burry by,

And of the varying present mar or make.
A gloom or bliss in Man's eternity:

Suns rise ascend-set-darken-and we die,
The dewdrops of a morning, in whose glass
All things look sparklingly;-alas! where I
Now stand, in how brief time shall others pass,
Nor heed nor see the blade whereon my moisture was.
E'en as yon flower with hyacinthine bells
Playful as light, which shivered by my tread,
Is turned to dust and darkness-to all else
It is as though it was not; swiftly sped
Spoil o'er its bruised buds which blossomed
A blending of all sweetnesses--what now?—
A few years hence, and over this bent head,
Dashing all life and gladness from the brow,
The scythe of Time shall pass, and Ruin's silent plough.
WIFFEN'S Aonian Hours.

Towards the close of the month, the splendid fringed water-lily (Menyanthes Nymphoides) is seen on the slow-flowing rivers and on ponds. When the fructification of this wonderful plant is completed, the stem, which rose many feet in order to support the flower above the surface of the water, sinks considerably beneath it, and there remains till the next season of flowering, when it again resumes its annual task.

Roses now lose their beauty, and it is with regret we see their fragrant petals scattered beneath our feet. The ROSE.

Alas! if the brightest of eye

And the warmest of hearts are to die;
If all we love truest and best,

Whom in absence we cherish,
Shall go to the home of their rest;
Like those roses that perish,
Their memory will cast a perfume
O'er the silence and night of the tomb.
Lamented through many a long year,
If time can e'er hallow the tear
That fond recollection will give
For those we adore so,

Shall their virtue direct us to live,
And cease to deplore so;

For they know neither sorrow nor pain
In the land where we soon meet again.

New Monthly Magazine.

The enchanter's nightshade; the Yorkshire sanicle; the water horehound or gypsy wort; the great cat's tail, or reed mace; the common nettle; goose grass; solanum (dulcamara and nigrum); the belladonna; asparagus and some species of rumex; with buck-wheat, and a variety of other plants, may be almost said to bloom, fade, and die, within the present month.

The fields now glow with every hue and shade of colorific radiance, the several species of Lychnis, Cerastium, and Spergula, contributing their share of beauty to animate this delightful scene.- Insects now take the place of the feathered tribe, and, being for the most part hatched in the spring, they are now in full vigour. The bee, the universal theme of admiration for its ceaseless industry, volant de fleur en fleur, in search of its nectared sweets, is an object of peculiar interest, and reads a useful lesson to the idler, and the lover of the precieux far niente-a 'besetting sin' not easily to be shaken off by those who are not compelled to gain their living by that greatest of all boons ever granted to man-daily toil and occupation. The roamings of the admirable bee' are thus beautifully described in PENNIE'S Royal Minstrel :

R

When prolific smiles the summer sun

Casts on the teeming earth, th' aculeate bees
A winged army send to roam the woods,

The lawns, and groves, that all their blooming pomp
Proudly to the young morning's eye display.
The lily of the vale, the damask rose,
Whose virgin blushes are fair Flora's pride,
The balmy woodbine, purple hyacinth,
The sweet narcissus washed in golden dew,
The yellow primrose, the carnation red,
The violet blue, and July's crimson flower,
With all the gay and painted tribes that deck

Th' enamelled field, heath, moor, and mountain wild,
Alike of their delicious sweets are robbed

By th' industrious horde, who to their waxen cells
Return ere sunset, loaded rich with spoils.

The larvæ of that large fine and rare species, the Sphinx atropos, or death's-head hawk-moth, should be sought for in the evenings of this month. They always feed upon potatoes, artfully concealing themselves in the daytime on those parts of the stems of the plants which are best covered with over-shadowing leaves. These larvæ are very scarce in some years; they were, however, plentiful in 1808, 1809, and 1825. The following is the method recommended by Mr.SAMOUELLE, of rearing the larvæ to their perfect state. As the larvæ appeared to be about to change to the pupa state, they were placed in common garden pots, filled with mould; they immediately began to burrow in the earth, and in about half an hour were completely hidden from view. Conceiving that the earth should be kept moist, the pot was placed in a pan of water, the same as used for plants, and replenished as often as required: water was also sparingly sprinkled on the surface, when it was completely dried. To prevent the escape of the insects, when in the perfect state, two pieces of cane were procured, tied in the centre in the form of a cross, and then bent to an arch; the ends of the cane were placed within the pot, and formed a frame, which was covered with gauze, that gave ample room for the wings of