Mr. Horticulturist: - I was a little premature in announcing the good news that Tritoma Uvaria can be easily grown from seed; and wish now to amend the statement by restricting the phrase "easily" to the meaning of - with about as much care as we bestow upon common garden vegetables: for I have since discovered, that if it can be easily cultivated under judicious treatment, so also it can be easily destroyed, by a little "coddling" - a weakness or indiscretion into which most ardent floriculturists, whether young or old, are eminently liable to fall. If I mistake not, I once heard it asserted, that "bought wit is best, if it be not bought too dearly," and as I have purchased the above item or small parcel of knowledge at the cost of two of my best plants, I hasten to advise amateur gardeners, and others of small experience, of the result of my experiments; and thus enable them, if they please, at my expense, to avoid similar chagrin and disappointment.

It has been well said, that "particular instances are the foundation of all sound philosophy;" and I shall venture to give a very minute and circumstantial detail of my management, and relate matters so trivial and common-place, as to expose me to the charge of superfluous prolixity, or perhaps even puerility: because I have learned that precisely from the attention given to such minutiae is derived the very essence of that skill in execution which gives to the practised hand such an advantage over the mere theorist; no matter how exact and profound his acquaintance with the general principles of chemistry and vegetable physiology ,may be.

In the spring, when I turned out my Tritomas, I placed them in as varied situations as to soil and exposure as I could find in my grounds; expecting thereby to learn something with regard to habit, and requirements for a luxuriant growth, and capacity for enduring privation. One, I had placed in the neighborhood of some Salvias, viz.: Indica, Leucantha, and Rom-phyrantha, a Pentstemon Wrightii, some Alonsoas, Pelangoniums, etc., which 1 knew would require occasional watering, but intended to give none to it. After having neglected to attend to them for a somewhat longer time than usual, I one morning found them all in a languishing condition; and with the prospect of a hot day before me, I feared that some of them would succumb if I waited till evening, so I gave them a good drenching. Although Tritoma did not seem to be suffering so much as the rest, I thought it looked up rather beseechingly, as if it would rejoice to have a taste of the same refreshing fluid, and as it was in a growing state I concluded to indulge it for once. I was not altogether ignorant that sometimes a little water, like "a little learning, is a dangerous thing," so I gave it gradually, allowing it time to soak in, a 12-quart watering-pot full - of rainwater.

It proved to be one of the hottest days of the season. Thermometer 92°. The next morning all appeared well enough; in the heat of the day, they all wilted a little, but no more than what is usual. On the third morning, however, instead of standing freshly erect like the rest, Tritoma was drooping, and a presentiment shot across my mind, that it was "a case." (We will call it Case No. 1.) I did not however abandon all hope. I stirred up the soil around it to let in the air, and I screened the body of the plant from the direct rays of the sun, but let them fall on the earth around not far from the base. It lingered along for several days, dying slowly, but surely - damped off at the ground; and its root never pushed again.

One might suppose that this would have proved a sufficient "caution;" and so it did, and will be, so far as the special case of watering in the morning goes, but still it did not prevent Case No. 2. In a deeply trenched and carefully composted border, prepared expressly for the reception of some choice roses, which had been kindly sent me to "illustrate" the article by Mr. Saul, of Washington City, in the Gardener's Monthly, for March, "on the Manetti stock" - (and truly such beautiful tufts of fibrous roots I had never seen on a rose cutting before,) - I say, in this bed - but not within 3 feet of any rose-bush - I had planted a Tritoma. It seemed to like its position passing well, and was going ahead of all its fellows, so that I was confidently expecting to see from it my first bloom. When the rains came, about the first of September, and my roses began to start in the race for autumn flowering, I resolved "to push them to the top of their bent" by giving them an occasional dose of liquid manure: and one evening after a shower, I thought I would qualify their water from the sky with a dash of something more stimulating - not indeed old Cogniac, nor even old Peach, but of old and stale soap-suds. As I passed along, and the Tritoma met my eye, thinks I to myself: "If I give that also a small taste of this good stuff, who knows but it may coax it to show its colors several days the sooner for it;" so I took "the responsibility " of pouring not above a quart around it at the distance of not less than two feet from the stem, and I do not suppose that it percolated through the soil more than half way to it.

It was two or three days before anything appeared amiss, when unmistakable symptoms of disease were manifested: its central leaves (a most unfavorable prognostic) began to droop, and about a week afterwards, as I was attempting to support them by tying to a stake, to my surprise the main stem parted at the ground without my being conscious of pulling it at all, betraying a most ancient and fish like smell which would have put a rotten onion to the blush. Still there remained two strong suckers, quite fresh and green; so, after clearing away the decayed matter from the crown and filling dry white sand over it, I took heart of grace. But two rainy and cloudy days following, and having made no roots of their own, the young progeny soon lay in the same grave with their parent. The tips only or spongioks, of the long and somewhat fleshy fibrous roots were rotted away, the middle plant remaining as sound as ever.

Case No. 3 happily still remains to be reported. I have remaining but one plant which seems strong enough to expect a flower from this season, and as I cannot afford to leave it out to prove its hardiness in the open air, I have already removed it with a large ball into a 12-inch pot, and it seems now quite safely established, and at least shall be guarded from some mishaps.