The gradual bursting forth of buds and leaves on shrub and tree is a daily source of spring enjoyment; the elder and honeysuckle shew their purple buds early; the lilacs and flowering currants follow with their green buds; each tree and plant has its own peculiar habit and growth - each unfolds its bud after a different manner; and many a pleasant hour may be passed in watching the progress and unrolling of the buds of the various plants, so as to discover the way the leaves are folded up and the manner in which each opens and comes forth. Some leaves, for instance, such as the oak, are folded from the mid-rib, so that the upper surfaces of the two halves of the leaf are applied to each other; in the violet the leaf is rolled inwards towards the middle; in the azalea it is rolled outwards; in the maple it is plaited like a fan; in the tulip tree the point is bent towards the base, and several leaves are packed one within another; while on other trees the leaf is rolled into a single coil. It is interesting to trace thus in every work of God's hand the variety as well as the wisdom and power displayed; but even to those who have not had their attention directed to these illustrations of God's work, the opening spring cannot fail to bring some thoughts of what it typifies, as well as of the hope its buds give of summer's bloom. Dora Greenwell's lines to "Hope" may be well applied to spring:-

"It was a dream of Hope; I know the hue Of her fresh mantle and her symbol true, The leaf! She cannot give the flower or fruit, But sends their promise by a herald mute; The leaf that comes like one in haste to bring The first of all some gladsome welcoming, And cannot speak for joy, but with the hand Still points and beckons to the coming band."

This joyous, hopeful feeling that springs up in our hearts at this season, when watching day by day the reappearance and progress of our flowers, is well expressed in the following lines by Delta:-

"Come, hasten ye hither; our garden bowers Are green with the promise of budding flowers - : The crocus, and spring's first messenger, The fairy snowdrop, are blooming here; The taper-leaved tulip is sprouting up, The hyacinth speaks of its purple cup, The jonquil boasteth, ' Ere few weeks run, My golden sunlet I '11 shew the sun :' Primroses, an iris-hued multitude, By the kissing winds are wooing and wooed; While the wallflower threatens, with bursting bud, To darken its blossoms with winter's blood. Come hither, come hither, and mark how swell The fruit-buds of the jargonelle; On its yet but leaflet-greening boughs The apricot open its blossom throws; The delicate peach-tree's branches run O'er the warm wall, glad to feel the sun;

And the cherry proclaims of cloudless weather, When its fruit and the blackbirds will toy together. See, the gooseberry bushes their riches show, And the currant bush hangs its leaves below; And the damp-loving rasp saith, ' I '11 win your praise With my grateful coolness on harvest days.' Come along, come along, and guess with me How fair and how fruitful the year shall be! "

Too true it is that sometimes these guesses and hopes are blighted by a late spring frost; the blossoms of the fruit-trees drop off, the flowers shrivel and droop, the very leaves are scorched and blackened, and all our anticipations of the rich beauty of "The lilac, and the snowball flower, And the laburnum, with its golden strings Waving in the wind," and of the autumn wealth of fruit, are dashed to the ground. Still, season after season, spring fills us with hope; and well it is that it should do so, for, without hope, who could either watch or work? Both must be done at this season. Indeed, the months of March and April bring so much to be done, as well as to be hoped for, that one sometimes feels at a loss what should be done first; frequently the caprice of the weather must be disregarded, and the work pushed on; for if not done now, it cannot be done afterwards, and we are left to experience the truth of the proverb, "He that will not plough by reason of the cold, shall beg in harvest, and have nothing." In amateur work, at this season, the sowing of annuals is one of the pleasantest; and if the season be dry as well as mild, some seeds may be put into the ground in March; but in cold, wet seasons, it is better to delay, for no progress is made; the seed either rots in the earth, or comes up in such a weak condition, that the first frosty morning kills the tiny plants. Indeed, annuals sown in May grow so much more rapidly, that they are frequently in flower before the early-sown crops; and some seeds, mignonette, for instance, never come up at all, unless the temperature of both air and earth is higher than it is in early spring. Some attention must be paid as to the depth at which the seeds are sown, as, if placed too deep, they will either die, or remain without germinating, and at all events, these will take much longer to come up than those sown nearer the surface. For small seeds, such as those of most annuals, a slight sprinkling of earth over them is sufficient : but all grow best when the bed on which they are sown is well dug, and the soil pulverised. Self-sown seeds of annuals spring up earlier, and flower before those sown in spring, perhaps because they have generally so shallow a covering of soil; but as they often flower more freely as well as earlier than their cultivated relations, they should be left undisturbed, if possible, when dressing the borders. There are some plants which sow themselves thus so readily, that an introduction into the garden is all they require; then, year after year, they spring up of their own accord, without any fresh sowing being requisite. Escli-scholtzia Californica is one of these, Nemophila maculata is another; common foxglove also spreads rapidly in this way, and sometimes mignonette springs up where it has been sown the year before. I have seen the plan recommended of forking over the plots of mignonette in autumn, burying the plants, when it is said the seeds will spring up early next year, and produce stronger plants than if sown. Perhaps it is because all our mignonette is gathered for nosegays, the last blossoms being the most prized, that I can say nothing from experience as to this plan; but seeds sown in autumn, if they outlive the winter, certainly flower earlier than spring-sown ones. Something also may depend on the liking some plants have for the particular soil or situation. I recollect the late Dr Neill expressing surprise at the manner in which the large scarlet poppy grew in our garden; it spread almost like a weed, and indeed had to be dug up in some places, while he could scarcely get it to grow, and never to propagate itself by seed. After our seeds are sown comes the pleasure of watching for their appearance above ground, varying, as it does, from four or five days to twelve or fifteen, according to the weather, or the size of the seed. In warm moist weather, there is rapid growth; but the difference made by temperature is of course much more observable, when we compare seeds sown in a hot-bed or stove with those sown in the open air. Some seeds, zinnia, for example, spring up in five days in a stove, while they take from twelve to twenty days in the open air; and in most instances recorded, a difference of at least eight days has been observed.