CULTIVATION OF FLOWERS. Mr. HOGG'S GARDEN. - It is related of that great and good man, WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, that he loved flowers, with all the simple delight of childhood; and when he came in from his garden, carefully depositing in his own room a few that he had gathered, he would say, as he enjoyed their fragrance, 'How good is GOD to us! What should we think of a friend, who had furnished us with a magnificent house, and all we needed, and then coming in to see that all had been provided, according to his wishes, should be hurt to find that no perfumes had been placed in the room? Yet so has God dealt with us; lovely flowers are the smiles of His goodness.' It is gratifying to know, that the love of flowers, and a passion for their cultivation, are increasing in our cities. We have had opportunity to remark, in an occasional and always pleasant visit to the delightful flower-garden and hot-houses of Mr. THOMAS HOGG, near Twenty-First-street, that great numbers of our citizens are alive to the grateful influences of flowers and plants. They select from his rich stores, to embellish the borders of a narrow walk, or some small verdant plat; and as we traverse the streets, the bright and gorgeous colors which may be seen in his grounds, meet our eyes alike in the windows of the opulent, and the humbler dwellings of the poor. Happily, those who can find no spot of soil large enough to plant a flower, may, for a comparative trifle, cherish a little reservoir of earth, nourishing its flower, or feast the eye with, and inhale the fragrance of, a fresh and various bouquet. To those who 'care not for the flowers,' (for such there be,) and who think them useless, we commend the annexed beautiful lines, by MARY HOWITT :

BOBLINKIANA.-GEOFFREY CRAYON's vivid sketch of the Boblink, in his 'Birds of Spring,' seems to have the gift of ubiquity. It greets us every where, in the journals of the day, from Maine to the Rocky Mountains, and from the Gulf of Saint Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico. Our people are just beginning to realize what a treasure we have in that glorious bird; and sundry amateurs in ornithology, in different quarters, are discussing the various characters which the songster assumes, during his eventful existence. As Boblink, Reed-bird, and Rice-bird, he stands a fair chance of immortality. Moreover, some of his admirers have been reporting his speeches, and one has even gone so far, as to attribute to him a very pretty piece of verse, that he composed one sunny day, while 'rising and sinking with the breeze, on a long flaunting weed' in a Jersey meadow. But his popularity is working him 'much annoy.' A Boston journalist informs us, that worse than the real estate, eastern lands, or morus multicaulis fever, is the Boblink mania. Little rascals in the country are crowding into the eastern cities, with caged Boblinks, who are compelled to relieve their captivity, by carolling in the dwellings of the opulent cit. 'Preserve us from our friends!' would doubtless enter into the burthen of their songs, if they knew to whose loving kindness they were indebted for their 'bad eminence.'

THE DEAD. To those whose thoughts are prone to dwell upon the 'cold obstruction' of the grave; who are wont to look upon the lowliest stone, in a durable erection, with the thought that it will exist, when the artizan's hands that placed it there, have mouldered into clay, and his own form shall have become a brother to the clod that the rude swain turns with his share and treads upon;' to such, we recommend the following, from Smith's 'Theory of Moral Sentiments. It explains and exposes a delusion, that is the fruitful source of wide unhappiness. 'It is a common thing,' says an old writer, 'for the countenances of the dead, even in their fixed and rigid state, to subside into the long-forgotten expression of sleeping infancy, and settle into the very look of early life; so calm, so peaceful, do they grow again, that those who knew them in their happy childhood, kneel by the coffin's side in awe, and see the angel even upon earth.' There is something in this beautiful passage, confirmatory of the accuracy of the following reasoning:

'We sympathize even with the dead; and overlooking what is of real importance in their situation, that awful futurity which awaits them, we are chiefly affected by those circumstances which strike our senses, but can have no influence upon their happiness. It is miserable, we think, to be deprived of the light of the sun; to be shut out from life and conversation; to be laid in the cold grave, a prey to corruption, and the reptiles of the earth; to be no more thought of in this world, but to be obliterated, in a little time, from the affections, and almost from the memory, of their dearest friends and relations. Surely, we imagine, we can never feel too much for those who have suffered so dreadful a calamity. The tribute of our fellow-feeling seems doubly due to them now, when they are in danger of being forgotten by every body; and by the vain honors which we pay to their memory, we endeavor, for our own misery, artificially to keep alive our melancholy remembrance of their misfortune. That our sympathy can afford them no consolation, seems to be an addition to their calamity; and to think that all we can do is unavailing, and that what alleviates all other distress, the regret, the love, and the lamentations of their friends, can yield no comfort to them, serves only to exasperate our sense of their misery. The happiness of the dead, however, most assuredly, is affected by noue of these circumstances; nor is it the thought of these things which can ever disturb the profound security of their repose. The idea of that dreary and endless melancholy which the fancy naturally ascribes to their condition, arises altogether from our joining to the change which has been produced upon them, our own consciousness of that change, from our putting ourselves in their situation, and from our lodging, if I may be allowed to say so, our own living souls in their inanimated bodies, and thence conceiving what would be our emotions in this case. It is from this very illusion of the imagination, that the foresight of our own dissolution is so terrible to us, and that the idea of those circumstances, which undoubtedly can give us no pain when we are dead, makes us miserable while we are alive. Aud from thence arises one of the most important principles in human nature, the dread of death, the great poison to the happiness, but the great restraint upon the injustice of mankind, which, while it afflicts and mortifies the individual, guards and protects society.'

"THE CHRISTIAN EXAMINER.' We find on our table the May issue of this monthly journal; and in its pages ample confirmation of the favorable prediction with which we accompanied the recent announcement, that its editorial responsibilities had been assumed by the Rev. WILLIAM WARE, author of the admirable 'Palmyra Letters.' We trace, throughout, the fine taste and style, not less than the liberal and humane spirit, which are the acknowledged characteristics of the editor. The number opens with an elaborate and complimentary, although discriminating, review of Colonel STONE's Life of BRANT, which is succeeded by an article upon American Education, based upon two volumes which have been noticed in these pages, and a clear and well-reasoned paper upon 'Peace, and Peace Societies.' Chiefest among the articles, however, do we esteem that upon the Life and Writings of WILBERFORCE, that eminent philanthropist, and altogether noble work of the Great Architect; a man who, in the smallest things, was great in that best of senses which does honor to human nature. We had pencilled a few notes upon the paper on the 'Nature and Proper Evidence of a Revelation,' in which much that has been too long mystified, is brought out of darkness; but our limits do not admit of a more extended notice, which, to render justice to the periodical which this article adorns, should also include a reference, in detail, to another, upon the Report of the Lunatic Asylum at Worcester. The ample department of 'Notices and Intelligence' worthily close the number.

MOUNT HOPE CEMETERY, ROCHESTER. — The delightful emotions with which, precisely a year ago‘at this present sitting,' we traversed the winding walks of the beautiful cemetry of 'Mount Hope,' near Rochester, are vividly recalled by a well-printed pamphlet, which has just reached us, on the wings of the press, and ‘Uncle Samuel's newspaperbags. It is an 'Address delivered at the Dedication of Mount Hope Cemetery, Rochester, in October, 1838, and repeated, by request, before the Rochester Athenæum and Young Men's Association. By the Rev. PHARCELUS Church, Pastor of the First Baptist Church, Rochester.' We have heretofore faintly sketched the numerous and peculiar beauties of Mount Hope, which, with the known taste and spirit of the citizens of the flourishing city near it, will soon equal that loveliest of scenes, 'Laurel Hill,' near Philadelphia. Is New-York never to have its 'Mount Hope' or 'Mount Auburn ? Is the awful 'Potters' Field,' which frowns with its long trenches upon the citizen, as he ruralizes toward Harlæm, to compose the only suburban cemetery, which this great and affluent metropolis may boast? We recommend the unanswerable reasoning and pure sentiments of this fine essay to the hearts of our readers. A well-drawn and engraved view of the grounds, with the enclosure and entrance to the cemetery, accompanies the Address.

To READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. - We have several choice papers on hand, which await our next issue. The second of the fine series of' Familiar Letters from London,' by the author of “The American in Paris,' came too late, we regret to say, for insertion in the present number. It will grace our next. The papers by the author of 'Clinton Bradshaw,' are filed for insertion, with several others, in prose and verse, from old and favorite contributors, which we lack space to specify. We should not forget to mention, by the way, that among our regular contributors hereafter, will be enrolled the author of that clever work, ‘Harry Franco.' We do not know him from Adam,' nor even his name; and must therefore confess ourselves doubly grateful for the subjoined flattering lines, which he encloses to us, just as our last pages are passing through the press :

LINES

WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF ENTERING INTO A COMPACT WITH THE PRINCE OF PERIODICALS.

Higu was the destiny chalked out for me,

By her who watched my talents as they budded,
While seated on my childhood's throne, her knee,

She saw my dawning sky with honors studded.
But ah! if mother's wishes could avail,

What son had ever known a fortune lowly?
Yet contre-temps all manhood will assail,

In spite of prayers, or aspirations holy.
Happily, before a mother's anxious eyes,

Futurity's dark curtain is suspended,
And in its shade bright hopes and phantoms rise,

With fears and doubts (atroction's offspring,) blended.
Ah! little didst thou think, dear mother mine,

(And happy I the thought did uever pain her,)
That ever it would chance lo son of thine,

To sell himself to be OLD KNICK's retainer! June, 1839.

Ab, good reader! we know what is in store for you, and give you leave to anticipate as liberally as you please. There shall be no disappointment. We shall deserve the favor, which has given this Magazine more thousands of subscribers than it once had hundreds.

FOR ' Adalantado,' in Mr. IRVING'S 'Enchanted Island,' read 'Adelantado.' The name of Slous should be substituted for Hows, in the notice of the National Academy of Design,' in our last number.

D We respectfully solicit the reader's admiration, for the beautiful steel engraving which embellishes the present number.

ROTTERDAM possesses an ample variety of religious edifices, belonging to various communions of Christians and Jews; but none of them are particularly worthy of attention, except the great protestant church of Saint Lawrence. The exterior of this edifice presents a huge, unseemly pile of crumbling little Dutch bricks, flanked with enormous and misshapen buttresses, along the sides, and partly covered by wretched houses and shops, built close against it, as if were an old city wall, instead of a place of worship. But notwithstanding the poorness of its material, and the want of architectural taste in its construction, and the parsimonious spirit which has suffered it thus to be walled in by the neighboring proprietors, there is something imposing in the mass, and venerable in the general aspect, of the overgrown pile. It is imperfectly formed into the representation of a cross, by means of the roof and upper part of the structure having as usual a massive tower at one end. Being the first of the great churches of the Netherlands which I ever entered, its peculiarities made the more vivid impression upon my mind. The mag. nitude of the interior of a church three hundred feet long, one hundred and fifty broad, and one hundred high, the roof being supported by twenty large pillars of plastered brick, is naturally the first idea that strikes one, accustomed to the style of building in this country, where the great subdivision into sects, and the prevailing taste for multiplying the number instead of increasing the size of churches, takes from the grandeur of effect that is always associated with vastness. The impression is heightened by the circumstance, that the continuity of view is not broken up by a permanent division, into pews. Seats exist for the magistrates, and some also for ladies; but on the floor of the church, there is nothing but rush-bottomed chairs, for the use of the great body of worshippers. The pavement consists of many hundreds of broad, flat grave-stones, usually bearing short inscriptions, and a coat of arms; so that you walk at every step over the very tombs of the dead, collected for centuries in the vaults beneath. The walls are covered with common plaster. Over the main entrance, is the organ, the altar-piece being at the opposite extremity, and the pulpit on one side, by the pillary VOL, XIV.

14

which

support the roof. Such is the general appearance of the interior of this church, which I shall describe the more particularly, as it will afford a general notion of the style of churches of the same class in Holland.

It is generally conceded, that this superb organ, of recent construction, is the rival of the celebrated instrument at Haarlem. It is supported by twelve pillars, of white Italian marble, with brass capitals, and resting upon solid blocks of beautiful variegated marble; all which is protected from injury by a railing of iron. The aspect of the organ itself is equally magnificent, consisting of five thousand five hundred pipes, richly ornamented, bearing aloft angels and cherubs, and surmounted by a figure of David playing on the harp, whose crown seems almost to reach the roof of the church. Nothing can surpass the powers of this noble instrument, either in compass, variety, or sweetness. A large space, facing the organ, sufficient in itself to contain a small congregation, and divided from the nave or main

part of the church, by an iron balustrade, forms the choir, and contains the altar. This space is entered by a beautifully constructed gate, an exquisite piece of workmanship, on which is inscribed, F. Van Dowe, f.; Anno 1717.' An elegant brass railing, ornamented with marble pillars, and supported on marble abutments, more immediately encloses the choir, which, in the reformed service, is used for little else but the solemnization of marriages. The pulpit is of carved oak, polished and shining like mahogany, and although elegant in itself, is not comparable, as a work of art, to many which I afterward saw in the Netherlands.

Around the walls of the church are many texts from the Scriptures, and other inscriptions, placed in conspicuous situations, but far from well executed. These tablets and escutcheons are sometimes not without interest; but yield, in this respect, to several monumental sculptures, which are also placed against the wall. One of them is the cenotaph of Egbert Kortenaar, in the form of a portico, on four columns, before which lies extended the body of the admiral, in the full dress of his rank, and above him a tablet, adorned with naval insignia. The cenotaph, beside a Dutch inscription, bears the following, in Latin : Heroi incomparabili Egberto BARTHOLOMÆI A CORTENAAR, Archithalasso,

Hoc virtutis et gloriosæ mortis monumentum,
Posuere nobilni Dni Præfecti. Rei Maritimæ ad Mosam.

Opposite this noble monument, is that of the Adiniral de Witt. This also bears the recumbent body of the naval hero. A sea-fight is sculptured below, and above, Neptune and Mars support the tablet, which is surmounted by Fame, with her trumpet, and another symbolical figure, of good execution. A Latin inscription enumerates his achievements. This and the other monumental inscriptions contained in these Notes, I carefully wrote down myself on the spot, transcribing the honorary memorials of the heroes and great men of Holland, with feelings of respect and veneration, far more just and natural, it seemed to me, than the eager interest with which classic travellers hasten to record every obscure remnant they may find of