The history of the first fuchsia, its introduction to Europe, and the commencement of its subsequent popularity, form a very romantic story, and we condense it from the original story as told by the Gardour's Chronicle:

Old Mr. Lee, a nurseryman and gardener near London, well known fifty or sixty years ago, was one day showing his variegated treasures to a friend, who suddenly turned to him and declared, "Well you have not in your collection a prettier flower than I saw this morning at Wapping." "No, and pray what was this phoenix like? " "Why, the plant was elegant, and the flower hung in rows like tassels from the pendant branches, their colors the richest crimson; in the center a fold of deep purple," and so forth. Particular directions being demanded and given, Mr. Lee posted off to the place, where he at once perceived that the plant was new in this part of the world. He saw and admired. Entering the house, he said, " My good woman this is a nice plant, I should like to buy it." "Ah, sir, I could not sell it for no money, for it was brought me from the West Indies by my husband, who has now left again, and I must keep it for his sake." "But I must have it." " Here," emptying his pockets, "here is gold, silver and copper;" (his stock was something more than eight guineas). "Well-a-day, but this is a power of money, sure and sure! " "'Tis yours, and the plant is mine: and, my good dame, you shall have one of the first young ones I rear, to keep for your husband's sake."

A coach was called, in which was safely deposited our florist and his seemingly dear purchase. His first work was to pull off and utterly destroy every vestige of blossom and blossom-bud; it was divided into cuttings, which were forced into bark beds, and hot-beds, were re-divided and sub-divided. Every effort was used to multiply the plant. By the commencement of the next flowering season, Mr. Lee was the delighted possessor of three hundred fuchsia plants, all giving promise of blossom. The two which opened first were removed into his show-house. A lady came:

"Why, Mr. Lee, my dear Mr. Lee, where did you get this charming flower?" "Hem 'tis a new thing, my lady - pretty, is it not? " "Pretty 'tis lovely. Its price?" "A guinea. Thank your ladyship;" and one of the two plants stood proudly in her ladyship's boudoir. "My dear Charlotte! where did you get that elegant flower? " "Oh, 'tis a new thing; I saw it at old Lee's; pretty, is it not?" "Pretty! 'tis beautiful! Its price?" "A guinea; there was another left." The visitor's horses smoked off to the suburb; a third flowering plant stood on the spot whence the first had been taken. The second guinea was paid, and the second chosen fuchsia adorned the drawing-room of her second ladyship.

The scene was repeated, as new comers saw and were attracted by the beauty of the plant. New chariots flew to the gates of old Lee's nursery ground. Two fuchsias, young, graceful, and bursting into healthful flower, were constantly seen on the same spot in his repository. He neglected not to gladden the faithful sailor's wife by the promised gift; but ere the flower season closed 300 golden guineas clinked in his purse, the produce of the single shrub from the window in Wapping; the reward of the taste, decision, skill and perseverance of old Mr. Lee.

The First Fuchsia #1

Dr. James Eights, who accompanied Wilkes in his exploring expedition to the South Seas in 1838, told me that when on the Island of Juan Fernandez he was pleased with the exceeding beauty of the fuchsia, there growing wild, and that he brought the seed to New York, and from it grew the first plants that were known here.

Humboldt, in his Cosmos, makes some allusion to the doctor, in connection with his scientific researches in South America, and about a dozen years ago Parsons added a new flower to his catalogue which Dr. Eights discovered in the Southern States and for which he received the munificent sura of fifty dollars.

To me, in all the flora of the North there is nothing prettier than our native fuchsia - the Cellandine whose golden "drops" hang over meadow brooks and contrast harmoniously with the surrouudings. - Mrs. N. Orr, in Rural New Yorker.