projecting stamens and a club-shaped style. This species is a native of Japan. As the people of that country long refused intercourse with the western world, the first bulbs of the showy lily were conveyed clandestinely to Holland by a traveller, named Siebold, and from thence they were introduced, in 1836, to England. The CAMELLIA (Camellia Japonica), is ordinarily of a rich crimson-colour, though there are white, red, yellowish, and purple varieties. It is admired alike for its rose-like flowers, and its shining dark-green leaves. In China this plant bears the name of tea-shrub, as it possesses most of the botanical peculiarities of that shrub, and is nearly allied to it. The yellow flower in the engraving is the HYPERICUM (Hypericum monogynum), which was brought to our country in seed in 1753: it is an evergreen shrub, and is in blossom from the spring to the autumn. The LEADWORT (Plumbago Larpentæ) is a small but beautiful blue flower, and came to us from the city of Pekin. The CHINESE PRIMROSE (Primula Sinensis) is in its greatest beauty in the latter part of autumn: it is a hardy plant, and will stand through our winter. It was first cultivated with success about thirty years ago at Bromley, in Kent, where it was introduced from Canton. Primroses are great favourites in all countries where they are found, especially with the poets. Bernard Barton thus addresses this flower: "Flower of pale but lovely bloom, Pour thy silent eloquence. Fairer flowers which gardens bear, Faintly while I look on thee, Sights and sounds which then were dear Grateful is it yet to feel In the heart thy mute appeal; Shed, then, on dark manhood's gloom, MARK WENTWORTH; OR, THE STUDENT'S RESOLVE. A BRIGHT wood fire was blazing cheerily in the ample grate, in pleasant contrast to the snowy scene without; the beef was faultlessly roasted, the turkey superlatively tender and delicately cooked, and the plum-pudding perfection,—and yet Farmer Wentworth did not seem thoroughly to enjoy his Christmas dinner. Not that there was any alarming failure of his appetite; but the somewhat cloudy look which he had brought with him from church, and the absence of the hearty praise which he usually bestowed on any extraordinary display of his wife's excellent housekeeping, were unmistakable proofs that he was unwontedly ruffled; for certainly any shadow that the minor ills of life could throw over his bronzed, good-humoured countenance, would have vanished at the sight of the good fare and thorough English comfort which his dining-room displayed. His two sons, Mark and Ralph, seemed to feel its genial influence, and their delicate and somewhat carewornlooking mother joined in their conversation with interest and pleasure; but the head of the family remained absent and silent till the meal was over. True, he pressed the good cheer on them, and cut the daintiest slices for his little pet Ally; the youngest by several years, and his especial darling. But he told none of the old tales which from long-established custom always seemed to form an essential part of the Christmas dinner at Holme Farm, and laughed none of the hearty boisterous laughs that were seldom wanting there at any festive time. At length, when beef, and turkey, and pudding, and mince-pie had all been amply discussed, and the dessert, dressed out with sprays of yew and berried holly, set upon the polished table, and the family turned round to the fire to enjoy their dessert at ease, the farmer entered upon the subject of his annoyance. “I cannot think,” he began, administering a poke to the glowing logs, that made the sparks fly up in brilliant myriads; "I cannot think why our parson won't let people go on the old way and enjoy their Christmas as they used to. Why couldn't he just have given us a cheerful sermon, like Mr. Wilson always did before him, proper for Christmas time; and told us to go home and enjoy ourselves. I declare I've no patience with such dismal preaching." “Why, father, it was all about Christmas," said Mark, the elder of the two lads; "I thought he gave us a very good explanation. I know I never used to listen to Mr. Wilson's sermons, there seemed nothing to remember in them; but you can't help attending to Mr. Franklin, whether you will or not. Simple as his sermons are, there's a great deal to think of in them; I am sure he's a very clever man.” "Well, so he may be," replied the farmer; "I believe he has got you on uncommonly well in your learning; but the last part of his sermon, now, this morning,—I don't think was at all suited to Christmas. The day is a day to be merry and joyful in, not to think about death and such things; and then, when he finished with that solemn sounding text about the end of everything being at hand, I declare it made me feel quite uncomfortable. It strikes me he must be some sort of a Methodist; neither of the parsons that came before him ever used to say such things." "that "But, John," interposed Mrs. Wentworth, does not prove that Mr. Franklin is wrong. I am sure there is a wonderful difference in the village since he came here; and he goes about among the people, and seems to care for them body and soul, as if they were all his own flesh and blood. Then there's the Cottage Lecture, and he is always at the Sunday-school,-why, the only thing Mr. Wilson ever did was to read prayers and preach on a Sunday." 'Well, my dear," returned the farmer rather testily, “and that's just what a clergyman ought to do; to mind his own business and let other people mind theirs,—not go harrying after them, and poking into the cottages like Mr. Franklin does. I heard last night, that he had informed against the 'Lion' and got Dakes fined; and if that's true, I call it a most unhandsome thing for him to do. Not but what he's kind in his way; I don't wish to speak against him, for I believe he'd do anything he could for anybody." "I am sure he would," said Mrs. Wentworth, earnestly; "I never shall forget how kind he was when our poor little Johnny was drowned-never, as long as I live;" and the mother's eyes filled with tears: for D |