There is a fourth variety named _Nicotiana Finis_, which has found much favour in the private gardens of England. It is not so symmetrical as those just mentioned, its leaves are small, widely separated, in fact, rather straggling; but under the training of a skilled gardener it is made to assume a bushy form. Its chief attraction is found in the delicate white flowers which it produces; these during the daytime droop, but at sundown they generally assume an erect posture and become firm, then the petals expand and the flower emits a delicious perfume, sweeter far than jessamine. In the tobacco plant English florists and gardeners have found an accessory for filling up vacant spots in their shrubberies with good effect; and the side-beds along a carriage drive, or the shelves in a greenhouse, can be pleasingly diversified by selections from the varying kinds the genus _Nicotiana_ presents. As an ornamental flowering plant it is certainly worthy of a place among the many charming indigenous and exotic shrubs which nowadays adorn private grounds. Then its uses either as a fumigator or as a wash are such as all experienced gardeners know well how to appreciate; in either form it is a powerful prophylactic, readily destroying insect pests and the germs of blight. Let us now pass into the domain of the chemist and view for a while the operations of this modern magician as he summons the genii of the Indian weed to appear before him in all their naked deformity, and compels them to yield up their secrets. There is no poetry in the chemist’s crucible; imagination fails to lend a transient charm to the grim constituents of the bewitching leaf. Here, in his silent retreat, the analyst weighs and measures, tests and resolves into their original elements whatever things, foul or fair, come into his hands. He weighs a pound of the prepared leaves, steeps them in water, and subjects them to distilation; presently there rises to the surface a volatile, fatty oil which congeals and floats. It has the odour of tobacco and is bitter to the tongue; on the mouth and throat it produces a sensation similar to that caused by long-continued smoking. Taking a minute particle on the point of a needle he swallows it, and immediately experiences a feeling of giddiness, nausea, and an inclination to vomit. And yet the quantity obtained of this evil thing from the pound of leaves is barely two grains. Now he adds a little sulphuric acid to the water, and distils with quicklime; soon there is dislodged from the hidden cells of the leaves a small quantity of a volatile, oily, colourless, alkaline fluid, the prince of the genii—nicotine. The odour of an old clay pipe grown black with age hangs about it: it is acrid, burning narcotic, and scarcely less poisonous than prussic acid, a single drop having the power to kill a dog. It boils at a temperature of 482° Fahr., and rises into vapour at a point below that of burning tobacco, consequently it is always present