The root of the Clove Pink is ligneous and perennial, and is found running deeply into the old mortar, which is its favourite soil; many stems shoot out from the same root, and they are glaucous and smooth, throwing out longitudinal branches, at the extremity of which grows a solitary flower. The leaves are linear.

The main feature in the attractions of this flower is its delicious fragrance, a fragrance so highly pleasing to the botanist who named the genus, that he thought he might dedicate it to the honour of the chief god in the heathen mythology, called Zeus by the Greeks, and Jupiter or Jove by the Latins, so compounding the two words avdos flower, and Aios of Zeus, he formed the generic name Dianthus, that is, the Flower of Jove; and to the flower under consideration has been given the specific name Caryophyllus, from the similarity of its scent to that of the Clove of commerce. Cowley thus refers to its generic name:—

Like that sweet flower that yields great Jove delight;
Had he majestic bulk, he'd now be styled

Jove's flower; and, if my skill is not beguiled,
He was Jove's flower when Jove was but a child;
Take him with many flowers in one conferred,
He's worthy Jove, e'en now he has a beard.

The Clove Pink is generally allowed to be the parent of the Carnation, which is so highly prized by all who delight in the cultivated garden. How widely the cultivated descendants of this simple flower differ from the stock from which they sprung, all can bear testimony, and many persons well acquainted with the fine double flowers of various colours which ornament the parterre, would hesitate to rely upon the statement, when told for

the first time that they originated in so insignificant a plant.

Few poets have woven the Pink in their productions, but we may suppose that this flower was one of those present to the mind of Campbell when he wrote the following lines in his verses on Field Flowers.

Not a pastoral song has a pleasanter tune

Than ye speak to my heart, little wildings of June,
Of old ruinous castles ye tell,

Where I thought it delightful your beauties to find,
When the magic of nature first breathed on my mind,
And your blossoms were part of the spell.

Who that has rambled over the beautiful county of Kent, in the height of summer, cannot sympathize with the sentiments here expressed? No where do we find a greater variety of beautiful wild flowers than here; we cannot enumerate them, but we have often plucked them with delight when strolling over the fertile fields of this highly favoured spot.

Cowper introduces the Pink in a "Winter Nosegay,” the result of the florist's care.

What nature, alas! has denied

To the delicate growth of our isle,

Art has in a measure supplied,

And winter is decked with a smile.

See, Mary, what beauties I bring

From the shelter of that sunny shed,

Where the flowers have the charms of the spring,

Though abroad they are frozen and dead.

'Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets,

Where Flora is still in her prime,

A fortress to which she retreats

From the cruel assaults of the clime.

While earth wears a mantle of snow,
These pinks are as fresh and as gay
As the fairest and sweetest that blow
On the beautiful bosom of May.

See how they have safely survived
The frowns of a sky so severe;
Such Mary's true love, that has lived
Through many a turbulent year.
The charms of the late-blowing rose
Seem graced with a livelier hue,
And the winter of sorrow best shows
The truth of a friend such as you.

There are some very pretty verses which have been translated from the German of Goëthe. They are called "The Song of the Captive." The Captive complains, that from his imprisoned tower a much loved flower cannot even be seen, and would appear to consider the want of it as one of the greatest privations incidental to his position. The rose first ventures to think itself the flower desired, but when the Captive replies in the negative, the lily forthwith claims the honour, but in vain ; whereupon the pink says,

And dearer I, the pink must be,
And me thou sure dost choose,
Or else the gardener ne'er for me
Such watchful care would use;
A crowd of leaves enriching bloom,
And mine through life the sweet perfume,
And all the thousand hues.

To which the Captive replies

The pink can no one justly slight,
The gardener's favourite flower;
He sets it now beneath the light,
Now shields it from its power.

Yet 'tis not pomp, who o'er the rest
In splendour shines, can make me blest;
It is a still, small flower.

Then the violet claims the regard, but it is a still humbler flower than this which the Captive desires, the "Forget-me-not," which blooms on the banks of a neighbouring stream.

The Clove Pink (Dianthus Caryophyllus) called also the Carnation, and the Clove Gillyflower, is in the Linnæan class Decandria, and order Digynia, and in the Natural order Caryophylleæ.

THE PERIWINKLE.

Vinca; L. La pervenche; Fr. Das sinngrün; Ger. Maagdepalm; Dutch. Pervinca; Ital. and Sp. Congossa; Port. Barwinck; Pol. Singrön; Dan.

Through primrose tufts in that sweet bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air that breathes.

WORDSWORTH.

THIS pretty flower is by no means common in a wild state, though occasionally found upon banks and in bushy places. In Devonshire it is, perhaps, more frequently met with than in any other county. Its fibrous roots throw out stems which are at first erect, but soon becoming long and wiry, they trail on the ground, and take root towards the extremities, and by these means the plant is propagated in every direction. The leaves are opposite, with short channeled footstalks; they are evergreen, very smooth and shining, and of a lanceolate egg shape. The flowers spring singly from the axils of the leaves, on long footstalks; the corolla is salver-shaped, and the tube widening above, the limb is cut into five oblique truncated segments, which are folded together spirally before the flower has expanded; it is in colour either a violet, purple, or white.

The Periwinkle cultivated in our gardens differs in no respect from that found in the fields. In a state of cultivation the leaves are sometimes variegated, and there is good reason for believing that the colour of the flower depends mainly upon the nature of the soil in which the plant is growing; for it has been determined by experi