The system of bedding plants has called for a new class of characters. Formerly viewed as a "florist's flower," a verbena, for instance, would require roundness of form in the individual flower as a first requisite. The lobes of the edges of the border should seem so to overlap each other as to form a perfect circle. Then there should always be an "eye," and the colors of this eye and the margin beyond be well defined, and not run gradually into each other. But for bedding purposes, a new and striking shade of color, a free blooming character, neat habit of growth, and power to endure a hot, dry sun, are of far more importance; and the energies of our improvers should be devoted to this end. Seedling raising with this view is very interesting, and we would recommend all our amateur friends to try their hands at it. It is a highly interesting source of gratification even in itself. The way to proceed is to note some variety that approaches nearly to the desired shade, and select seed from these. The next season some flowers will be produced probably deeper, and in a few generations, by careful annual selection each time, the desired shade can be obtained. The old notion that "like produces like," is a fallacy.

There is always more or less of difference in the progeny from its progenitors, though most generally so slight that we do not observe it; but a little art added to nature's own process brings out the variations very remarkably. Where quite different characters from the original are desired, hybridization may be resorted to. For instance, we may have an excellent habit of growth, and free blooming quality, but a dull colored flower; a kind as nearly allied to the good qualities as possible, but with better colors should be selected with which to fertilize the other. Flowers should be selected for fertilization soon after they have expanded, and the one used as a fertilizer chosen when matured. The flower of the former may then have the latter shaken over it, and fertilization will probably ensue. This is a rough method. The passage of a camel-hair pencil from one flower to another is better; the pollen from the stamens of the one is more certainly carried to the other. When hybridizing is carried on with nicety, it is best entirely to remove the anthers with a pair of scissors before applying the pollen of the other kind.

This lessens the chances of self-fertilization, and renders the operation either a certain failure to produce seed at all, or a different race from its parents by the seed so produced. New fruits may be produced in the same way. It was at one time supposed all these productions were mules, and though they might produce flowers in their progeny, would not produce fruit, and so the operation would not benefit the pomologist. But this is now found not to be the case. The progeny is sometimes barren, but this is rather the exception than the rule.

This is not the period of the year to thin out trees when they have become too thick on the grounds; but the autumn will soon be here, and in view of the importance of the question, it seems a seasonable hint to be given now. It is surprising, in view of how much has been written about it, so little thinning is done. In our own city of Philadelphia, where, if anywhere, one would think the influence of the Gardeners' Monthly would be felt, thousands of trees are annually destroyed by the struggle with one another, simply because of a sentiment that it is not wise to destroy in an hour what it has taken a quarter of a century to grow. Let any one note a tree standing by itself - note it at this season, when covered with foliage, and note the branches extending, perhaps, fifty feet from the trunk, and admitting a glorious current of cool air under it; and then note the score or two of trees crowded together in a hundred feet lot, the branches struggling upwards to get a glimpse of the sky - forming an impenetrable mass through which not a breath of air can stir, and he will see the difference. The owner often sees it; and instead of thinning the trees, calls in the aid of the tree-butcher who lops off the heads.

The result is, these large scars never heal, the wood rots, and in a few years the trees have to be taken out at any rate - the whole tree is gone. And then, what do lopped trees look like ? They are outrageous in the sight of every person with even the germ of taste. Street trees especially suffer from this unseemly crowding. It is very well to put trees about 20 feet apart at first, because we get some shade and some ornament sooner than we should do. It looks naked for too long a time, to have small trees so set with the view to what they will be in a quarter of a century hence. It is best to set double the number of trees finally required, with the firm determination to take out the half ten or twelve years after; or that some one else may do it, if we should ourselves be in another land.