ly a popish relic of very
ancient standing."

But to return to palms proper. Before taking leave of them, there is one
more word to be said in their praise which may endear this noble race to
eyes which will never be permitted to see the wonders of tropical
forests.

As pot-plants they are not less remarkable for the picturesqueness of
their forms, than for the patience with which they endure those
vicissitudes of stuffiness and chill, dryness, dust, and gas, which
prove fatal to so many inmates of the flower-stand or the window-sill.
Pot-palms may be bought of any good nurseryman at prices varying from
two or three shillings to two or three pounds. _Latania borbonica_ and
_Phoenix reclinata_ are good and cheap. Sandy-peaty soil, with a
little leaf-mould, is what they like, and this should be renewed (with a
larger pot) every second year. Thus, with the most moderate care, and an
occasional sponging, or a stand-out in a soft shower, the exiled Princes
of Vegetation, whose shoots in their native forests would have been of
giant luxuriance, will live for years, patiently adapting themselves by
slow growth to the rooms which they adorn, easier of management than the
next fern you dig up on your rambles, and, in the incomparable beauty of
their forms, the perpetual delight of an artistic eye.

LITTLE WOODS.

By little woods are here meant--not woods of small extent, but--woods in
which the trees never grow big, woods that are to grown-up woods as
children to grown-up people, woods that seem made on purpose for
children, and dwarfs, and dolls, and fairies.

These little woods have many names, varying with the trees of which they
are composed, or the districts in which they are found. One of the
best-known names is that of copse or coppice, and it brings with it
remembrances of the fresh beauty of spring days, on which--sheltered by
the light copse-wood from winds that are still keen--we have revelled in
sunshine warm enough to persuade us that summer was come "for good," as
we picked violets and primroses to the tolling of the cuckoo.

Things "in miniature" have a natural charm for little people, and most
of my young readers have probably been familiar with favourite copses,
or miniature pine-forests. Perhaps some of them would like to know why
these little woods never grow into big ones, and something also of the
history and uses of those trees of which little woods are composed.

They are not made of dwarf