Men of science have conceded the privilege to the first discoverer, propagator, producer or describer, of a tree or plant to give it a name, which shall take pre-cedence of any that may ever after be given. My attention was drawn to this subject on an examination of numerous catalogues, which have been sent to my address by friends who are aware of my weakness on the subject of grape-culture. The prevailing fashion among cultivators is to name each new grape in compliment to some loved female, whose name has become not only a household word, but is idolized for the many virtues of its possessor, and consequently to the person using it is expressive of high excellence; but does the grape public appreciate the name in the same manner? or does it not rather convey an idea of effeminacy? I will readily award to the sponsors a degree of affection and veneration for the sex, in which I hope I am myself not deficient; but how does it look? how will it look in the next century? The grape-vine, like the raven, lives seven hundred years. These ladies' names may all become obsolete while the vines are still young.

They are all well enough when applied to but few; when we had but few native varieties, and expected no more, Isabella, Diana, and Rebecca were well enough; but their name is soon to be legion, and we are running the thing into the ground in more senses than one. Multiply the female names, and every producer of a new variety may have his Mary, Mary Ann, Cecilia, Clara, Dorinda, etc. We already find the names duplicated; thus we have two Annas, Anna Reid and Anna Grant; two Emilies, Raabe's and a foreign seedling (Creole). Mr. Allen and Mr. Rogers are producing new grapes by the score; some of them are destined to be remembered when this generation has passed away. If female names are only to be given, they must begin the alphabet, and use every one in the list for their numerous progeny, using each name many times over; and then the name of the producer will be required as a surname, to identify the plant; thus we may have Abigail Reid, Agatha Grant, Agnes Raabe, Althea Allen, Antonia Rogers, etc., to the end of the chapter.

I admit this is not without precedent, and these names Latinized might appear as high-sounding and be as unpronounceable as those already applied to our Flora. Our grape-growing is an American institution, and we should have plain, distinct, American names, expressive of something indicating origin, locality, etc. Now who can mistake the Mustang, Ozark, Catawba, Venango, Wyoming, and Adi-rondac? Does not the mind at once wander from the plains of Texas to the mountains of Missouri, South Carolina, Pennsylvania, and to the great Northern lakes, and fix the locality of each? Does it not comprehend at a single glance that the former is not suited to high northern latitudes, while the latter find their congenial clime there? The names of our mountains and rivers will supply names for all the really valuable new varieties which may be introduced during the present century, and I recommend that they be freely used, instead of the female names, for such new varieties as may be hereafter introduced. There are many other names not objectionable. "lona" tells its own story, and announces its origin and its author. "Eureka" is good, provided we have really found it.. Hartford Prolific is all right, but let us then ignore all other "Prolifics." Every bearing grape is so, if allowed to roam.

Seedling as an adjective is inadmissible and creates confusion: all new varieties are seedlings.

[At first we thought some fair one had been abusing Pratiquer, and he was writing in a "miff;" but he seems to be in earnest. We can not help thinking it a little strange, however, that he has no fault to find with male names. Having for many years done more or less in the way of naming fruits and flowers, we have been all over this ground, seen its difficulties, and may be supposed to have some knowledge of how best to meet them. To confine plants of any kind to one class of names, would certainly be objectionable; but no one, we believe, has yet proposed this. We know of no class of names, be they of rivers or mountains, that are not open to precisely the same objections as female names. These last are in no more danger of being duplicated than the others. Pratiquer is mistaken in supposing that we already have two Annas and two Emilies. There is but one Anna, that named after Dr. Grant's daughter: there is no Anna Reid. Judge Reid did, indeed, think of naming one of his seedlings Anna, not knowing that there was already a grape of that name; but he has not done so.

So, too, we can no more say that there are two Emilies than we can say that there are two Delawares or Isabellas. A grape was sent out for the Emily, which proved to be something else; but a mistake of that kind, of course, would not make two Emilies. The fears of Pratiquer, that we shall have to resort to surnames, are purely imaginary; there is no room to anticipate such a contingency. Pratiquer thinks we should have plain, distinct names, indicating origin, locality, etc.; and in this we agree with him, so far as conferring such names is possible; but the end is soon reached. We differ from him, however, in the conclusions he draws from such a nomenclature. It so happens that of the origin of many of the grapes he names, wo know next to nothing, and their names are no indication at all of their hardiness. Take the Catawba, for example; no man has yet been able to tell us where it originated. The Isabella is supposed (and it is a mere supposition) to have originated farther south than the Catawba, and yet we all know it is a hardier grape. It would be easy to show that the locality where a seedling originated forms no safe indication of its hardiness; it is a good deal more important to know where the seed came from.

We have named one seedling after the place where it originated, not because we think it will form any indication of its hardiness, (we have every reason to think quite the reverse,) but because the name happened to be a good one; we meant the name to be purely complimentary. Now we have two others from the same place; but how will origin or locality help us here? In regard to our mountains and rivers, their names, many of them, are altogether unexceptionable, but they would be no index to hardiness, and we can not perceive in what respect they are in better taste than the names of our women. "Iona" may tell its own story to those who know its origin, but to many it may tell " a tale of an Eastern clime;" it is a good and classic name, notwithstanding. We are quite willing, too, to admit that "Eureka" is good, but we can not perceive wherein it is better than Diana. "Adironac" is likewise good, but every man of taste will say that "Rebecca" is better. To make a long story short, we will simply say, that naming plants is mainly a matter of good taste, and the judicious use of female names can not, therefore, be dispensed with.

We propose to make a moderate and modest use of them, and give our American women a worthy place by the side of our majestic mountains and rivers. - ED].