Mr. Dow* ing: What think you has become of the New England country girl, who used to contribute to your pages, over the name of" Wild Flower?*' I suppose she is married, as few who are belles are apt to remain long in a state of " single blessedness.1' -She says on page 646, vol. 4th, that she is tired of hearing about " remarkable pears," and that she could not "graft a tree for her life." If she was tired of hearing of new pears in 1850, what must be the matter now, since more has been said within the last two years on the subject of fruit, than had been in ten years previous. I am no more tired of hearing about remarkable pears, than I am of eating them, and they taste so much better when you can say, " they grew on my own trees," and as for grafting, I can do that to a charm, and have done it, on seedlings of my own raising. Having been rather unfortunate at first in raising pear seedlings, I raise them on a new plan now, which makes their roots fibrous. If my trees could talk, they would report themselves by hundreds, that I have raised, grafted or budded, and helped to transplant within the last 12 years. (I hope the nurserymen won't be alarmed; there is no danger of my example being followed by the ladies sufficiently to interfere seriously with their business.) My father is a farmer, and in the days of my youth kept a small nursery himself.

I used to work with him in the nursery, tying buds and the like, for many a day. This 1 suppose accounts for my passion for trees, ever since. My love of flowers increases with years. What I know of botany is self acquired; but I have learned enough for all useful purposes. My love for wild flowers leads me over hills and dales, in search of floral treasures, to decorate my garden, and 1 have a large collection of native flowers that I have removed from their native haunts. I find the natives of upland to be the most patient of removal,-and there is certainly nothing more delightful to me than an intelligent ramble in the woods with the double pleasure of botanical and gardening acquisition to lead me on I always find something new in flower, even where I have wandered many times.

I do not exactly like the spirit in which "Wild Flower," speaks of the farmers' "rye bread." as if it was a matter of course that the farmer must eat rye bread. It is the farmers who raise the wheat on their own land, and " lords of the soil" are not likely to give the fat of the land wholly to others; and farmer's wives are apt to know how to make wheat bread (that is to say if they were prudent in the choice of a wife, and married farmer's daughters).

In your remark on the article I have referred to, you speak of the constant turning of eyes to the cities tor fashions and customs; if that was all I should not so deeply regret it; but there is not a season passses but some relative or neighbor is selling or leasing his farm, and going to some village or city to live, and as far my observation extends, it is generally chargeable to the gentlemen. I fear my husband may take the disease, which appears to be contagious, but here there would be an obstacle in the way.

I entirely agree with Wild Flower's notions that the killing of all birds should be made a crime, with attendant penalties, but 1 fear that legislatures would be inefficient to the task. It would be a more effectual stop if the mark of odium could be put upon the hunter [except in wild countries] by common consent, as it should upon the tobacco user in any form. Then, and not until then, will the thing be accomplished, but as long as young ladies will countenance the use of tobacco in any form by young men, just so long will they use it. A Farmer's Wife.

As a farmer's wife has not sent us her address, we have no other way than this of expressing our thanks and acceptance of her kind offer, which accompanied the foregoing. Ed.