The following interesting account of this plant is from the life of Mrs. Margaret Fuller Ossoli:

"I had kept two plants of the Yuca filamentosa six or seven years, though they had never bloomed. I knew nothing of them, and had no notion of what feelings they would excite. Last June I found in bud the one which had the most favorable exposure. A week or two after, the other, which was more in the shade, put out flower-buds, and I thought I should be able to watch them one after the other; but no! - the one which was most favored waited for the other, and both flowered together at the full of the moon. This struck me as very singular; but as soon as I saw the flower by moonlight, I understood it. This flower is made for the moon, as the Heliotrope is for the sun, and refuses other influences, or to display its beauty in any other light.

"The first night I saw it in flower I was conscious of a peculiar delight, - I may even say rapture. Many white flowers are far more beautiful by day; the Lily, for instance, with its firm, thick leaves, needs the broadest light to manifest its purity. But these transparent leaves of greenish white, which look dull in the day, are melted by the moon to glistening silver. And not only does this plant not appear in its destined hue by day, but the flower, though as bell-shaped it cannot quite cloe again after having once expanded, yet presses its petals together as closely as it can, hangs down its little blossoms, and its tall stark at noon seems to have reared itself only to betray a shabby insignificance.

Thus, too, with the leaves, which have burst asunder suddenly like the fan-palm, to make way for the stalk, - their edges in the day-time look ragged and unfinished, as if nature had left them in a hurry for some more pleasing task. On the day after the evening when I had thought it so beautiful,.I could not conceive how I had made such a mistake. But the second evening I.went out into the garden again. In clearest moonlight stood my flower, more beautiful than ever. The stalk pierced the air like a spear; all the little bells had erected themselves around it in most graceful array, with petals more transparent than silver, and of softer light than the diamond. Their edges were clearly but not sharply defined; they seemed to have been made by the moon's rays. The leaves, which had looked ragged by day, now seemed fringed by most delicate gossamer, and the plant might claim, with pride, its distinctive epithet of filamentosa. I looked at it till my feelings became so strong that I longed to share it. The thought which filled my mind was, that here we saw the type of pure feminine beauty, in the moon's own flower.

"I have since had further opportunity of watching the Yuca, and verified these observations - that she will not flower till the full moon, and chooses to hide her beauty from the eye of day."