ead, and being
bound compactly together, so that the stalks and wires brought into a
point, form a convenient handle, the petals of the flowers stand out in
lines of the most vivid hues, making a kind of smooth, expanded,
circular, and convex, surface. The manufacture of these bouquets, one of
which takes a considerable time to complete, is a distinct occupation,
and the sale of them, quite a trade; and though made elsewhere than at
Genoa, those of that town are most esteemed, and sent over all parts of
Italy. The flowers composing these bouquets, will keep for at least a
fortnight as fresh and beautiful as when first gathered, and are capable
of bearing long journeys, for they are constantly forwarded in boxes
made expressly for them, to Turin, which is about a hundred miles from
Genoa, where they arrive fresh and uninjured. An English nobleman
indeed, not long since, having a quick conveyance, dispatched a Genoese
bouquet to his family in England, who received it in its pristine
beauty. Besides being presented by lovers to their affianced brides,
they are the gifts of friend to friend on most festive occasions, such
as weddings, christenings, birthdays, Saint's days, and holidays; and
always upon New Year's day, which is as great an occasion for the
transfer of gifts in Italy, as it is in France. The freshness and beauty
of these bouquets, of which several were sent to me during my residence
in Genoa, are to be thus preserved: at night put your flowers into a
glass or vase, _without water_, since the stalks bound together in the
manner described have lost the power of suction and could not be
benefitted by it; then, lightly sprinkle, or water (with a watering-pot,
the rose of which is finely bored,) the flowery head of the bouquet, and
carefully cover it with a fine, light handkerchief, also moistened. This
attention paid every night will preserve these beautiful nosegays, fresh
and fair for many weeks.

M.L.B.

* * * * *

THE NAUTILUS.

WRITTEN FOR MUSIC.

(_For the Mirror._)

Hark! 'tis the song of the sailor shell,
Sweet on the breezes swelling:
Rearing its arms to the breathing gale,
Over the billows sailing.
Calm is the eve,
The wavelets heave
Their crests to the setting sun,
Glitter awhile
In his golden smile,
And their brilliant course is run.
Hasten, my brothers, our boat along,
Off to our sea side dwelling:
H