No one need fear that the beautiful in nature - say what he will of art - win prove a snare to him. Why should it not rather purify his thoughts, and lift them upward, give them higher conceptions of God and of heaven 1 For, if God has so wonderfully adorned this distant and comparatively insignificant planet, what will He not do in the immediate presence of His throne?

The view we have now taken, suggests an argument for rural improvement If, as many suppose, man has brought in a measure of deformity upon the otherwise beautiful earth, let him seek to restore the earth to its primitive loveliness. He cannot, indeed, robe the entire globe, in the beauty of Eden, but he can remove much of its ugliness, can fertilize much of its barrenness, and some small portion of its surface he can highly adorn. He can clear away wild forests, root out the thorn and thistle, and clothe even the most sterile soil with verdure; Whatever is already beautiful, he can preserve from desecration. He can erect comfortable and tasteful dwellings, and so arrange them within and without, that their occupants shall have daily familiarity with objects affording pleasure and promoting refinement.

Were the public taste more generally and highly cultivated, our hillsides and valleys would present a spectacle of greater beauty than they now exhibit. The neat cottage, the farm-house, the mansion, each embowered in leafy beauty, would speak, in no mistaken language, of contentment and social culture. Broad avenues of trees, mile after mile, would refresh the highway traveller. Public parks and gardens, and cemeteries, would be amply provided in the neighborhood of all our cities,and villages. And, above all, each home would be surrounded with whatever could lend it ornament and grace, binding to it the heart of the child and the man of years, weaving about it precious memories which no lapse of time, nor change of fortune could ever destroy.

The Beautiful In Nature #1

It is not down on the green banks where the silvery stream flows, but high up, imbosomed in the mountain's peak, above river and dell - where the vision is lost in the distant azure - where the mind is brought to contemplate the vast magnific grandeur and beauty of creation - where the little hills grow into mountains of loveliness - where they tower up from the valleys below, one over the other, endeavoring to eclipse each other in growing grandeur. On this spot is erected a beautiful palace, whose architectural design claims to be of the Italian order. It is the residence of a "millionaire."And you ask, Mr. Editor, What has this to do with the "Horticulturist?"We will tell you, sir - or, rather, what the "Horticulturist" ought to have to do with it. After we had feasted our eyes on the mansion, and filled our heart with the loveliness of the scenery, we asked for the "gardens." The gardens? Yes, sir, we would like to see your gardens. We have none. No gardens? No. - And the millionaire paused. There seemed to be a vacuum in his soul that wanted filling up. The brow of the fair goddess Flora was veiled. Bacchus grew furious, seized the wine-bowl, and vowed he should drink no more until he squeezed the sweet nectar from grapes of his own growth.

But the "enchantress " held forth a rose plucked from the dew-drops of morn, the balmy fragrance of which seemed to fill up that vacuum in his soul, and he cried out, Come, let us see where we can make our gardens.

We walked some few paces from the front door, when we were introduced to this nice spot, so near the kitchen, so convenient for the cook to gather the parsley, pull the pie-plant, get the cabbage and potatoes, and the children pick the strawberries; besides, we have all our outhouses here; the manure, too, at the stable, would be close to hand, and any refuse vegetables easily thrown to the pigs. All this certainly is convenient, but do you not think that it is also a great incongruity? You have here all your outhouses in sight of the parlor windows. And what of that? every one knows that we must have such places, and when they can see good barns and stables, they know that some one lives there. That is true, sir, if it should so happen there was nothing in the barns. Now, to be consistent in this matter, why not have the kitchen and dining-room all together? it would be much more convenient both for you and the cook. Aha, Mr. Rose, I see your notions of gardens are rather aristocratic. No, sir, but we have a strong attachment for the "Beautiful in Nature," and always feel pained when we behold such picturesque spots as this marred and distorted with things so incongruous. Your architect, in designing this beautiful house, has agreeably combined art with nature.

There is an adaptability to the situation, and a cheerful combination of both.

The improvement of the grounds is the next point for our consideration, and that from necessity must be carried forward here to the left, for on the other side you are close bounded by that beautiful wood. But here - where the grounds are open and free - where we have a charming landscape - where, in reality, exists that which is worth living here for - you must walk through your kitchen to see it. Had your barns and stables, jce-house and well, been sensitive beings, they might well have been proud of their position; but as they are nothing but inanimate matter, sticks and stones, things that cannot see nor feel, we think the proper place for them ought to have been in your woods out of sight. Well, Mr. Rose, after all I think you are about right. But then if you are right, my house is wrong, which now appears self-evident. Our compartments should have been placed here, where the servants are, and vice versa.

Think you, Mr. Editor, the "Horticulturistn was ever seen in this house? No, sir, or the mother earth never would have been so barren: not a solitary fruit of any description could be found on the place. Nothing but stocks, bonds, mortgages, and interest, had entered there. But we say, send them the "Horticulturist;" send it home to their doors, and let it knock aloud there. Mail it there free, sir, and tell them it's the Joint voluntary contribution of the poor hard-working gardeners, into whose souls the spirit of the immortal "Downing" is constantly whispering, in a still small voice, "Adorn their rural homes, sir," that nature's graceful undulations are not marred by some foreign rule and square, for you are bound by all the ties of nature, duty), and of love, to respect, improve, and protect the "Beautiful in Nature".

[Thank you Mr. Meadow, fo pleading our cause so eloquently. We shall send the Horticulturist, as you suggest; but we think, in good sooth, it ought to bo sent for ; the gift ought to be to the gardener, and not from him. Either way, however, that the rich roan's soul may be filled with a love of the "Beautiful in Nature' -ED].