THE following beautiful sketch is translated from the German, showing the love of queen Josephine for the Camellia, to whom it is said is to be given the credit of the first introduction of this stately flower within her lovely home:

The time of roses is done; quickly done! - as ever - it is gone. Summer and autumn rustled by like a dream and gathered all the flowers in their train. Only in great quiet rooms of palm-tree houses and winter-gardens are found bright blossoms and buds, which flourish in spite of the stern winter-king, who frowns on everything but his ice-flowers and tendrils.

It is the proud camellia which now unfolds her glossy leaves, polishes the folds of her drapery and salutes us above them; graceful as a princess. There seems to be something embodied in this charming, unapproachable flower, that reminds us of the words "Touch not the queen." With unspeakably earnest eyes, it gazes upon us and remains a stranger to us always - in spite of its beauty - a cold, indifferent heart - without language - without fragrance.

The proud camellia will never be the gift of love, like the rose - like the violet and forget-me-not. Beyond the sea lies its home, and it is said that there a gently intoxicating fragrance flows from its leaves, but the chilly breath of the North has made the stranger-plant mute, like so many frail human plants who have been removed from warm, cheerful homes into cool shades or transplanted from their native, tender soil into rocky wastes.

But it was a woman's hand, under whose tender care the white camellia first saw the light in France and afterwards bloomed in Germany - the small, beautiful hand of the Empress Josephine.

" Fortunately Malmaison is not destroyed," .wrote a friend in the spring of 1871. "The accompanying little box contains a white camellia from the greenhouse. It was Josephine's favorite flower, and will bloom anew beneath your warm eyes. I know full well what deep sympathy your heart cherishes for that charming creature, and I sought out that quiet asylum for your sake, almost at the peril of my life. I reached there unobserved and in safety, and am happy to relate some pleasant associations connected therewith. I was permitted to throw only a hurried glance upon all kinds of interesting relics. I saw a small fan with a golden handle, which is said to have been sacred to Josephine's use, and a dress of pale blue silk was shown me, over which the great Corsican had poured the contents of an ink-stand, because the color was distasteful to him - yea, verily, my dear, a real ink-stand! according to the on dit; his actions corresponded at all times, to the one described. If a robe of the Empress failed to please him, and was exchanged for another, after which she chanced to reappear in the former proscribed robe - in the face of his first slight gesture of reproof - suddenly and without pity flowed the black, destructive fluid upon it.

Just such a dress she wore in her solitude, the dear woman! how many traces of tears were visible on this rich, elegant dress! She could not certainly have valued that ruined splendor. It was, doubtless, its association with that painful circumstance which made her treasure it even with bitter tears.

"1 am glad, moreover, that your favorite was so woman-like in many ways, which you cannot fail to appreciate. For instance that things of by-gone days were so cherished by her; of many such, there are still preserved velvets, silks, laces and the like. She also possessed one hundred and fifty real shawls! "

This woman was truly a flower-fairy with her sensitive heart' and liberal hand, whose grace and goodness disarmed the bitterest enemy. Like a gardener, she assumed the care of flowers at Malmaison; her greenhouses and violet-beds were under her special supervision.

In her days of fortune and splendor, she. surrounded herself with violets, those most modest of all flowers - between the pearls and jewels of her crown - upon the seams of her trailing, gold-embroidered dresses, everywhere were nestled those delicate blossoms.

Then, when the darkened time of her abandonment came, Josephine nourished, as her prerogative, the quiet, stranger-flower, which was as homeless and lonely as herself.

There was a German musician who visited the garden at Malmaison, at the tine When the shrubs were planted, which afterwards extended so protectingly their branches, concealing the asylum of the abandoned from the eye of a curious and merciless world.

Fried rich Reicbardt writes, on the 29th March, 1803, concerning Malmaison, to a friend in Berlin, as follows: " We drove towards this melancholy place, where stood the insignificant, poorly-built country house, in a barren, open field upon the highway, surrounded by an intrenchment and inclosed by a wall. We would gladly have taken a closer view of it, but had scarcely reached the spot when Bonaparte, with his family and suite, drove thither for their abode during the beautiful spring-time, and we accordingly turned rapidly away. Bonaparte himself drove, from the foremost box, an open coach with four horses. Beside him was seated an officer in a red habit, probably a 'prefect du palais, and in the coach were seated his wife and her daughter, Madame Louis Bonaparte.

"Madame carried a large bunch of violets in her hand. A number of mounted gens d'armes rode in advance and behind the coach, besides several generals and high officers.

"Many grooms rode so near to the coach horses, that, to an observer, they appeared to be holding the reins of the same. A strong guard already held possession of the entrance and fore court, whilst patrolmen rode round the walls, scanning narrowly the intrenchments, though it was yet daylight.

"Over the whole remaining way we were met by a multitude of carriages filled with actors from the French Theater, and musicians and singers, on their way to give entertainment that evening, for the first time, in the little House-Theater at Malmaison. However elegant and artistically adorned the interior of the old house may be, the external surroundings were bare and almost sterile. The planting of a young forest here is begun, and in the greenhouses are to be reared all kinds of plants.