WHAT shall we say of names now? The sneer at those "who allium call their onions and their leeks" must be concealed for the present. Here is a precious old garden friend, the colours of which remind us of the eye of the pheasant, the most beautiful of our poultry, which becomes game in the killing, and the scientific name of which takes us right away into the heart of legendary lore. It is the flower of Adonis, too, the Adonis autumnalis, and it is the "rose-a-rubie" and the "red maythes" of the herb women, "by which name," says Gerarde, "it is called of them that dwell where it groweth naturally, and generally red camomill." But what of all this? Why should we masticate the dry husks of history when we may drink the wine of legendary lore ever fresh from the eternal fountains?

"Hence, pageant history! hence, gilded cheat!

Swart planet in the universe of deeds!

Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds

Along the pebbled shore of memory."

The quotation lands us in a difficulty, for it suggests the question that Adonis was perhaps a proper mortal of the common world, and only passed into fable in order to be commemorated. But he is there, in the heart of the fable, and the flower is stained with his blood, or rather the adventurous youth lives in the flower, and is the flower, and so will continue to dower it with human interest while the world shall last. The Adonis of story was the son of Smyrna, who having neglected the worship of Aphrodite, the Olympian goddess of love and beauty, was changed into a tree. From forth the tree in due time came her son, whose infant beauty so beguiled Aphrodite that she hid him in a chest, and confided his keeping to the care of Persephone. Then Persephone was equally enraptured with his beauty, and claimed him for her own, and, as a consequence, a lawsuit followed in the heavenly courts. The great judge Zeus decided the cause. He parcelled the year of Adonis into three divisions; he was to be the pet of Persephone four months, the pet of Aphrodite four months, and the remaining four were to be his own. As a matter of course, he could not love the ladies equally, and as his heart leaned to Aphrodite, he gave her the four months over which he had control, and thus was her companion eight months in the year. Whether the gods disapproved of this, Panyasis does not say, but he tells that the youth was killed by a boar during the chase. The story, as told by Ovid, brings Adonis before us as passionately beloved by Venus, who always cautioned him against the wild boars, but all in vain, for he would pursue them, even when, with tears and entreaties, the beautiful wooer besought him to remain beside her in safety and peace. It is this version which our Shakespeare has wrought up into a poem, which, whatever its demerits-and they are many-must be regarded as a wondrous display of fancy and power, considering that the bard began early, and that this exquisite work was "the first heir of his invention." Phanocles comes nearer home for our purpose. He relates that Dionysus, better known as Bacchus, carried off Adonis when he had been wounded by Apollo, who had appeared in the form of a boar for the purpose. When Venus heard of his fate she hastened to the spot, and charmed the ground that was stained with his blood, so that flowers sprang forth for perpetual remembrance.

The division of the year into three parts for the special convenience of this youth seems to carry the story into the region of the solar myths. There can be little doubt that it has a good place there. Adonis was worshipped in the countries around the Mediterranean; and in older times than those of the Greek fables he was the sun-god of the Phoenicians, the ruler of the seasons, the bringer-forth of corn and wine, and oil and flowers. Adonis is Thamas; he is Osiris; he stands for the moving-power of nature, and even after passing through a series of fanciful fables, he is still capable of bearing testimony to the piety of men in old time, who knowing not the one God, as He has been revealed to later ages, yet sought his face and favour by sacrifice and prayer, and penitence and praise.

We began in a low key, but ran up the scale so fast that we now find it difficult to get down again. But it must be done; and we return to the meaner phases of the subject to say that the worship of Adonis by the Greeks was a festival of some importance, and was continued through two days, the celebrants being women exclusively. The first day was devoted to the exhibition of the statues of Adonis, laid out as corpses, before which the women tore their hair and made loud lamentations. The second day was occupied with feasting and merriment. It was a distinct feature of this worship to carry green herbs in pots and shells, the favorite plants for the occasion being fennel and lettuce; for it was said that Venus laid her lovely boy on a bed of lettuces, and the fennel is of so reviving a nature that the fancy might be allowed to indulge the hope that it would bring the dead to life. It would be better to say that the solar myth is fully declared in the display of the dead Adonis, on whose brightness winter has descended, but who will presently revive and kindle life and merriment, and fill the bosoms of mankind with peace and plenty.

Adonis autumnalis is an annual flower, and blooms throughout the summer, notwithstanding its specific name. The seed may be sown at almost any season, but it should always be sown where the plant is to stand, because it does not bear transplanting. Any soil will suit it, and it bears shade fairly well, but blooms more freely in the sunshine.