gh; but how to
describe it is the difficulty. Imagine a bat with expanded wings, with
the addition of a tail, spread out before you, having on its breast a
rosette of narrow ribbon, of the same dusky colour, and you will gain
some idea of its form and colour. Its botanical name is _Attacia
cristata_.

Here is the rose-tent. In no previous season have the plants appeared
in finer condition. A few years ago, nobody could grow roses fit to be
seen in pots; many said it was impossible to do so: now, one can
scarcely imagine anything finer than they are seen at the metropolitan
flower-shows. Both in healthy appearance, and in fineness of flower,
they exceed those which we admire so much in the open garden in
summer. One or two are conspicuous, though all are beautiful.
_Souvenirs d'un ami_ has pale flesh-coloured flowers, exceedingly
delicate; nor is the perfume they emit less attractive. _Niphetus_,
pure white; _Adam_, very pale; and _Geant des Batailles_, of the
richest crimson, are among the most attractive; but there are numerous
others, rivalling them in beauty and fragrance.

As the afternoon wears away, the more fashionable visitors depart. At
six o'clock, the several bands of music form one, the National Anthem
is played, and the fete is over.

GOLD-SEEKING AT HOME.

The Lomond Hills, in the shires of Fife and Kinross, were known in
ancient times as the hunting-grounds of the kings of Scotland, when
these monarchs resided in their summer-palace at Falkland, a village
on their north-eastern declivity. At a period intermediate between
these and the present times, they were the haunt of the persecuted
Covenanters, and often resounded with the voice of psalms raised at
conventicles. Since then, their solitude and silence have seldom been
disturbed, save by the bark of the shepherd's dog, or the echoes
caused by the blasting of rocks in the limestone quarries which run
along their southern and western ridges. But during the month of May
last, this solitude and silence were completely destroyed, by
thousands of persons plying every kind of instrument upon them, from
the ponderous crowbar and pickaxe, to the easily-wielded trowel and
hammer, in search of gold, which they believed to be hidden in their
recesses. The information on which they acted seemed to them to come
from an authentic source, and to be confirmed by competent authority.

On the southern base of the hills, overlooking the far-famed
Lochleven,