THE heliotrope is in some form or other one of the most ancient of flowers; but the one before us, being a native of Peru, is of necessity modern, its introduction dating from the year 1800. In former papers on marigolds and sunflowers we have remarked that all flowers are sunflowers more or less, because they look towards the sun; and hence it is that many, such as the minor convolvulus and the tigridia (to name only two out of thousands), can only be seen to advantage when they are on the north side of the spectator--a matter of some importance in the arrangement of gardens. But, not to go into that larger matter, we have before us now a heliotrope the name of which no one can account for. It is the turnsole of the garden--the flower that turns to King Sol; but it has no special claim to be so distinguished. There is indeed, another Peruvian plant that has a claim, and it is the helianthus, the yellow sunflower that has become a symbol of solar glory in Peruvian art; in modern aestheticism it stands for art and taste generally, while on the village signboard it signifies that the sun is always shining for people who are thirsty and have money in their pockets.

Probably neither the botanist nor the archaeologist nor the student of Ovid can tell us what was the flower to which Clytie was changed when she died of love for glorious Apollo. But of course it was a sunflower, and one that

"Turns to her god when he sets

The same look which she turned when he rose."

The reader will easily find the story in the fourth book of the "Metamorphoses." But the translation by Sandys may not be at hand; and as it has a certain quaintness, an extract may be seasonable here:--

"She with distracted passion dies away,

Detesteth company; all night, all day,

Disrobed, with her ruffled hair unbound,

And wet with humour, sits upon the ground:

For nine long days all sustenance forbears;

Her hunger cloy'd with dew, her thirst with tears:

Nor rose; but rivets on the god her eyes,

And ever turns her face to him that flies.

At length, to earth her stupid body cleaves:

Her wan complexion turns to bloodless leaves,

Yet streak'd with red; her perish'd limbs beget

A flower, resembling the pale violet;

Which, with the sun, though rooted fast, doth move;

And being changed, changeth not her love."

We seem here to have the story of Venus and Adonis modified, and with a tamer climax; but it brings us to the flower before us, which may be said to "resemble the violet" in its colour, it odour, and its domestic tone of unobtrusive beauty. It was the favourite flower of Margaret Fuller, as the carbuncle was her favourite stone; for that strong-minded woman believed in omens and symbols, and possibly in amulets, to avert the evil eye. And it is fit to serve as a symbol or an emblem, as to many who are less romantic than the Marchesa d'Ossoli it is a reminder of cherry-pie, apple-pie, and essence of bitter almonds. There is a point where poetry and prose must meet, and we suppose it to be somewhere in the region of facts; and in that region the heliotrope is an interesting beauty, and one of the most desirable plants wherewith to perfume a conservatory or a garden, or to fill a button-hole.

The place in which the heliotrope displays its qualities best is on the wall of a warm conservatory, where it will reach a height of four, six, or even ten feet, and produce its fragrant flowers all the winter long. It is best known as a bedding plant in the flower-garden, where it sweetens the evening breeze most delicately. For whatever purpose it may be grown, it should be treated as a tender green-house plant. It is less hardy than the pelargonium, the calceolaria, and the petunia; it should therefore be planted last and taken up first, for the slightest touch of frost may be fatal to it. But, having sufficient warmth, it is a very accommodating plant, growing freely in any good soil, and best in a rich light loam. The varieties are mostly of compact habit and dwarf growth, and do not, therefore, need any pinching and training when planted out, but may be left to spread and flower in their own way.

To raise a stock of heliotropes for bedding, it is necessary to put a few old plants into a moderate heat soon after the turn of the year; and when these bristle with new shoots, cuttings may be taken and struck in a temperature of 70 degree. The light, sandy mixture commonly used in the propagation of plants in spring may be employed; and as soon as the cuttings have begun to grow freely, they should be potted separately in small pots, or be pricked out into large shallow boxes. To plant them out before June will be to expose them to the risk of damage. At all events, the 25th of May should be seen safely past ere they are committed to the ground, for that is the latest date on which a spring frost has been experienced. When growing freely, heliotropes require more moisture than pelargoniums or petunias; therefore it will be well, during hot dry weather, to supply them with water liberally.