Nay! say not faded--'tis despair Has thus subdued them, for they see That in themselves however fair, They ne'er can hope to equal thee! The Rose's joyous blush has fled, With which no other lip could vie; The Heartsease turns aside its head, Fearing to meet thy deep-blue eye. More sad the Myrtle's hue appears, The Jasmine's silver star is dim; Surpass'd by thee, thou seest the tears That tremble on the Harebell's brim. The Woodland Lily's silver cup Was never seen to droop as now, It dares not lift its flowerets up To gaze upon thy gentle brow. How canst thou look thus calmly on, And watch them slowly die the while? Recal them yet, ere life be gone, Enchantress, with thy sunny smile! HORTICULTURE. TO MOLLY, WITH A BASKET OF FRUIT AND VEGETABLES. Nay! say not shrivell'd--'tis despair Has thus subdued them, for they see That in themselves however fair, They'll ne'er be relish'd, love, like thee! A deeper blush the Raspberry paints, Pale is the ruddy Beetroot's lip; And e'en the red-cheek'd Apple faints, As though it suffer'd from the pip. Severely frown the Baking Pears; The Artichoke's bold crest is down; The awe-struck Medlar wildly stares To see thy cheek a swarthier brown. The icy Cucumber is hot, The freckled Cauliflower wan; The Mushroom has no longer got A single leg to stand upon! See how the rich, round-shoulder'd Figs Bow to thy figure's graceful swell; The sobbing Orange bursts its pigs To find thee such a Nonpareil! The Sister Sciences, female Siamese twins, having vanished from the scene, our correspondent, Mr. H. G. Adams, presented a second specimen of his curious PHOTOGENIC PICTURES: A SCENE NEAR FOLKSTONE. [Folkstone was made, says tradition, of the "odds and ends" left after the rest of the world was finished; and any one who has visited that jumble of heights and hollows, becomes impressed with the conviction that tradition sometimes speaks the truth.]