It only now remains to say a few words to those who love plants, and are not so happy as to dwell in the country to enjoy them. All plants in London need just twice as much water as they do in the country; because, the acrid nature of the smoky atmosphere naturally dries up their moisture. The leaves should likewise be sponged, when they are covered with dust or blacks. Geraniums and monthly roses are the plants most desirable for a London veranda, because if watered every day, and placed level with the light, they produce a constant succession of leaves and flowers. Hydrangeas, both the pink and the curious blue variety, are flowers often seen in the metropolis: if properly treated, they retain their beauty many weeks, but they are generally starved for want of water. The hydrangea is the native of a marsh, and will grow luxuriantly half immersed in water, therefore its pot ought to be plunged in a large pan, constantly kept full of water; the plant will then thrive and flourish, even in London. Pinks, carnations, and stocks, though favourite flowers in the windows of the metropolis, it must be remembered, yield no second produce of blossoms; they bloom but once in the year, and their beauty lasts only a few days. It must be observed as a constant rule, both in town and coun

try, to remove instantly all faded blossoms, as well as dead leaves; the plant is then kept in health, and is not exhausted by bearing seeds.

And now, wishing my young readers flourishing gardens, and a profusion of beautiful blossoms, I bid them farewell.

THE LAPDOG AND HIS DOCTOR.

BY MISS M. J. JEWSBURY.

A LAPDOG in a parlour lay,
Just doing nothing all the day;
So pampered that he could not puff,
In size much like his lady's muff!
Quite too genteel in birth and breeding
For aught, save slumbering and feeding.
The shepherd's dog the flock might guard,
The mastiff watch the house and yard;
The pointer, and the greyhound thinner,
Procure in turn their master's dinner;
But Shock, the idle lapdog, could
Do nought for any creature's good;
And, worse than all, his health at last
Declined, through laziness, so fast,
His wits he could no longer use,
Even his mistress to amuse;

Who then could his bad habits see,

And blame him for stupidity.

Poor Shock was in an evil case!-
The dread of being 'out of place,'
No matter what the trade or calling,
To man and brute alike is galling.
Our lapdog had no human friend :

The lady's maid desired his end;

While cook and footman scorned to palter,
And openly advised a halter!

To which his mistress half consented,
But luckily, again relented.

Dogs, well as mortals, can descry
And understand the 'altered eye;'
So Shock went forth to seek his kind,
And to the mastiff tell his mind.

The yard was overspread with gravel,
He found it, therefore, hard to travel;
And often did he stop, because
It tried his breath and tired his paws.
At length, with labour and with pain,
He near approached the mastiff's chain;
But wisely keeping out of reach,

He thus commenced his humble speech:-
"My noble friend!"- the mastiff grim
Scorned friendliness with one like him,
The fawning favourite of the parlour,
Not a brave, independent snarler;

66

With dignity he raised his head,
Begone, sir!"-all the words he said.
Trembling alike in tail and paw,
Shock thought it better to withdraw,
And seek assistance and advice
From dogs less noble and less nice.
He sought them all—from all returned
Without redress-despised and spurned ;-
And, as he slowly left the last,
From grief, or from too long a fast,
Sudden, as though he had been bit,

He dropped down in a kind of fit!

Just then, there happened to draw near,
The learned Doctor Chanticleer;

For skill and manners famed around,
As most polite, and most profound.
Our doctors' lancets are of steel,
But his, he carried on his heel;
And seeing it a case of need,
Proceeded with his spur to bleed;
Which, in a regular M. D.,
Shewed wonderful benignity!
Strangely revived by loss of blood,
Soon on his legs the lapdog stood;
And vowed he had not felt so clever
Since he had been a puppy,-never!