My neighbor, Mr. Beard, an enthusiastic horticulturist, grows the finest pansies that I have ever seen. A few months ago the Massachusetts Horticultural Society awarded him a silver medal for his pansies. He sows his seed in August, and grows his young plants in cold frames, which are well wrapped up in winter by a bank of litter with a board over it around the frames, and straw mats with light wooden shutters over them, over the sashes. His pansies keep growing all winter long, begin to bloom in January or February, are at their best in March and April, and by a little shading from strong sunshine, and lots of water should they need it, they bear their blossoms copiously till June arrives, by which time their blossoms, on account of the excessive heat, become too small to satisfy his taste, then every plant is rooted out and thrown away. The soil he uses is fresh loam, with a heavy addition of old rotted manure and leaf mould. Last spring, in front of his house, in addition to his beds of spring flowers, were vases filled with pansies of a size and richness so uncommon as to elicit the admiration of the whole neighborhood, and sow the healthy seeds of emulation. For two months before the advent of geraniums and petunias we can thus enjoy our pansies.

Connoisseurs sometimes perpetuate the finer pansies by renewing them from cuttings every year, but so very fine is the Lemoine strain, that pansies from cuttings seem a waste of time. - W. Falconer in Country Gentleman.