In a letter to-day from my German friend there are two gardening paragraphs, one a great example of how we sow and our descendants reap, and the other a practical experience which may be useful to anyone. 'I must tell you how I went to visit a friend half-way between Darmstadt and Heidelberg in the Oden-wald. She took me a drive into her hills and woods and showed me a whole hillside (north-east) very sheltered and entirely planted with wellingtonias, Abies macro-carpa, and enormous Thuyas and Thuya Globosas, simply lovely and quite unique, I should say, in this part of Europe. The wellingtonias that are so hideous as single specimens on a lawn were grand in a big mass, and so healthy, not one yellow twig - so picturesque, like huge bluish feathers. And think of the variety it made to have that hillside of blue in the midst of the black Tannen-baums and the golden oaks and beeches in their autumn robes ! It was all planted sixty or seventy years ago by my friend's father-in-law, Count Berkheim, who was a Frenchman, the Berkheims being the oldest feudal family of Alsace, and though this one branch is now German, they considered themselves French, and talked French in the last generation.'

Her next subject is chrysanthemums. She says: 'Another thing I have quite made up my mind about is that the summer and autumn culture of amateur-grown chrysanthemums, as I have seen it practised in nineteen out of twenty gardens in England, is not so good as ours. Now - October 25th - I have not one yellow, diseased, or missing leaf on any single one of my 150 plants. I am sure it is entirely due to the plan of sinking the pots well and deep into a heavy wet soil, and especially giving them only half as much stimulant all the summer, and hardly any artificial manure at all; plenty of hoof-parings and bone-dust in the soil at each re-potting, and always a little very-much-diluted liquid manure from a sink-tank where there is plenty of cabbage water. I must tell you that the director of the celebrated Palmen Garten, the German Kew, came the other day and said he had never seen finer plants than ours anywhere, and only wished his were a patch on them. I only tell you this because I have always felt sorry to see chrysanthemums diseased, and the plants so straggling and empty of leaves in most English private gardens, for, after all, from October till the new year they are the staple material for one's indoor decoration, are they not ?'

There is a good deal of truth in my friend's remarks, and there has been much chrysanthemum disease about in England in the last four or five years. I have tried sinking the pots, even in this light soil, with great benefit. The wet summer has also helped; but I am quite sure that the tendency to overfeed cattle, plants, and land is one of the dangers in England at this moment.

The cultivation of chrysanthemums is a bother, but at the same time we cannot do without them, and I suppose as long as gardens last we all shall feel more or less what is charmingly told in the following poem from the 'Westminster Gazette': -