One of our triggest little spring plants is the Cheiranthux alpuia, sometimes called the small wallflower. It is very easily propagated, for if a plant of it is torn in pieces, every bit will strike root. It grows in neat, compact bushes, flowers profusely, and both it and its orange-coloured cousin, Cheiranthus Marshallii, continue long in flower, and have a faint sweet perfume. They are capital bedding-out plants, as well as useful additions to the colours of a mixed border.

The subject of colours in a flower garden is now so deeply studied, and become so much a matter of scientific arrangement, that I dare not add a word on a subject I know so little about; but even in the lowliest plots, great additional pleasure may be derived from a harmonious arrangement of the colours, and much additional interest in planning the best method of getting those flowers together which contrast well in colour, and bloom at the same time. The dwarf daffodil and the grape hyacinth, for instance, one being pale yellow and the other blue, look well together, and I remember an accidental contrast of these colours that was exceedingly pretty, though it was formed by a large dandelion which had got rooted in a border of gentians, where its bright yellow stars, mingling with the vivid expanse of blue, made such an attractive show that the intruding weed was suffered to remain till the flowers had faded, when it was somewhat reluctantly dug up.

"Oft sparing what the florist knows To be but gaudy weeds."

Another very pretty contrast may be made by planting double yellow and double lilac primroses alternately as a border edging • there is also a common pale yellow auricula, which looks well planted beside a lilac one of the same tribe; blue gentians and common yellow primroses also contrast well; and I have seen nosegays arranged of those last-named flowers, which had a beautiful effect.

Before quitting this subject of the grouping of plants according to their colours, I must refer to the fact that nature herself has in many instances shewn us the example, setting off a purple flower with a yellow centre, or with yellow anthers, and contrasting the red colour not only of our flowers, but of wild fruits, such as the holly and mountain ash, with the green leaves. Some most interesting examples of this natural arrangement of complementary colours, as they are termed, may be found in Dr M'Cosh's "Typical Forms;" the looking-for and verifying the instances there given add a fresh pleasure to every hour spent among the flowers of the field, as well as those of the garden. Truly, indeed, does he say that, "Surrounded as we are by such harmonies, we are convinced that wherever the mind seeks for them it will discover them; nay, the eye fixes on them when it is not designedly seeking for them, and rejoices in them when it can give no account of the cause of its joy. At the same time, the contemplative intellect experiences a further pleasure, and a pleasure of its own, when it can scientifically explain to itself the source of all this enjoyment, and systematically look out for the pleasing associations of nature/' To return to the garden, from which we have slightly wandered, we may give another extract on this subject from Chevreul, one of the highest authorities on colours; he says:-" The principal rule to be observed in the arrangement of flowers is, to place the blue next the orange, and the violet next the yellow; whilst red and pink flowers are never seen to greater advantage than when surrounded by verdure and by white flowers; the latter may also be advantageously dispersed among groups formed of blue and orange, and of violet and yellow flowers."

There are pretty little spring flowers among the phloxes, low growing, and disposed to encroach on their neighbours, but bright and easily cultivated; and one of them, Phlox frondosa, makes a nice bedding-out plant when allowed to fill up the bed, flowering profusely, and for a long time.

Any mention of spring flowers would be incomplete without the violet; the double blue certainly needs more care in its culture than the single, but the latter is quite as fragrant, and seems to thrive best when left pretty much to its own devices. Both this plant and the lily of the valley do not object to the shelter of a wall or to the sunshine; a few plants of each may be put in on the southern side of a fruit-tree wall, where they will bloom early, and require little attention; but the violet seems to thrive at the roots of roses or shrubs, and should be allowed to nestle securely there in all out-of-the-way corners. I am not writing a book of gardening advice. I know well that this plan of allowing one plant to grow at the root of another is utterly wrong in a real gardener's idea; but there are many innocent heresies in the art, which give great pleasure, and which I, for one, prefer greatly to the orthodox routine. For instance, it is very wrong, I believe, to admire a mossy lawn, or to allow daisies to spring up among the grass; now both are so delightful to me, that I would not care half so much for the little lawns or grass plots in the garden, if they were not soft with velvet moss, and white as snow with gowans. For some days before the fortnightly mowing takes place, it is like the renewal of one's own happy childhood to see the delight with which all children greet the daisy; they "Gladly nature's love partake Of thee, sweet daisy!"

It is their own flower, the one they may pluck without stint or reproof; for, as the poet says "Daisies leave no fruit behind When the pretty flow'rets die; Pluck them, and another year As many will be blooming here."

I would cultivate the daisy, did it not spring up everywhere, for this reason, if for no other, that it gives so many happy hours to little hearts, so much work to little hands, adorning themselves with daisy wreaths and chains, worn, it may be, but for a few hours, then thrown aside to wither; the young wearers secure that to-morrow- will bring a fresh supply, - hopeful and trustful, as only childhood can be, that the morrow will dawn on fresh pleasures and fresh flowers. Let the poet's malediction be theirs who would uproot the daisy from our lawns "May peace come never to his nest Who shall reprove thee!"