There are two species of the water-lily in the East--the one mentioned and the _Nympha coerulea_. The latter, as the name implies, is blue, and said to be wonderfully beautiful. A blue water-lily! What an object to thrill the soul of the florist! It must be rare even in gardens of acclimatization. Who has ever seen one? Perhaps it would flourish in some of our small lakes farther South. It would produce a splendid effect growing with the white water-lily in our ponds. During the last year or two there have been paragraphs in our newspapers declaring that the pond-lily could be made to grow in gardens. Most people have doubted it. Could a flower so naturally wild, so secluded in its loveliness, so fond of shady nooks and comparatively deep water, be made to expand its shy petals and exhale its rare perfume in a vulgar tub? Yet is it true. Like the noblest beauty of every kind, it blesses despite captivity and ignoble surroundings. Last spring I determined to give the cultivation of the water-lily a trial, and impressed an old lime hogshead into the service. This I had sawed through the middle, and one half sunk in the ground at the north-east end of the veranda, under the rain-spout. Then, armed with a big basket and a long rake, two of us started for the pond, about a mile distant, where the lilies grew. Some of the leaves, as yet all rolled together, were just peeping from the water. The process of dragging out the roots was rather difficult, but exhilarating. First, we threw out the long rake, let it sink, worked it down into the mud as far as practicable, and then pulled together with all our strength. At every pull we brought up a long piece of the fleshy root with several leaves just sprouting; but every pull, or rather every yielding of a root, resulted in our sudden sitting down on the marshy ground with peals of laughter. This was the exhilarating part. We placed the roots, with all the doughy clay adhering, in the basket, and tugged it home with many pauses for rest and frequent changing of hands. The basket seemed freighted with lead, and the dripping of yellow mud was not improving to the appearance of shoes and stockings.