THE profane manner in which his name would be uttered and execrated for its inherent ugliness, and the perversity of writers and printers in spelling it, could never by any chance have occurred to Dr. Eschscholtz, happy in the midst of his flowers. Peace to his dust, honour to his memory, and may his name, as having a place in the roll of devotees of the goddess Flora, be henceforth and for ever spelt correctly.

This is a curious and interesting plant, and so nearly related to the genus papaver, that it may with propriety be called the yellow California poppy. The leaves are of a glaucous green, and much divided into narrow linear segments. The flower-bud is an elongated spiral cone, covered with an extinguisher-like calyx, which is pushed off upwards as the petals expand, and the flower rests on a fleshy receptacle with a dilated margin, which has been, or might be, copied in many works of art. The seed-vessel is a long striated pod, altogether differing in appearance from the globular or urn-shaped pod of a true poppy, and it opens by two valves. For a study of plant structure this is a capital subject, and the young botanist will do well to grow a few tufts of Eschscholtzias in the garden, and give close heed to them in all their stages from the cradle to the grave.

The Eschscholtzias are classed as annuals, and may be grown as such, because they flower the first season if sown in February or March, or still better in the autumn, as advised in the paper on the Virginian stock. But they are true perennials, with persistent fleshy roots, and have but to be left alone to last many years. When they have become established in a garden it is not an easy matter to get rid of them, for they sow their seeds and spread as wildings, and as summer advances we see their gay flowers in all sorts of odd places where the plants have found suitable nooks for themselves, and have escaped the scratch of the weed-exterminating hoe of the gardener. In such cases what is to be done? Well, there is an easy way out of every difficulty, and the only difficulty is to know the way. In this case it consists in leaving the plants alone, for weeds they may be, and none the worse for that--why cut short their bright career when they do not even so much as cry, "Please, please give me a drop of water?"

The species and varieties of Eschscholtzias in cultivation are all worth growing, and do not amount to many. E. Californica produces flowers of a bright yellow colour, the petals blotched at the base with orange. E. crocea differs from it only in having flowers of a saffron colour, and a receptacle rather more dilated. E. compacta has smallish flowers of yellow and orange, the margin of the receptacle almost flat. E. tennifolia is very distinct, the leaves crowded, flowers numerous, colour yellow, the receptacle tubular, the margin very slightly dilated; a very gay and interesting plant.

The plants now under notice were amongst the splendid botanical acquisitions of David Douglas, one of the most capable and renowned collectors employed by the Horticultural Society. His principal explorations of the country watered by the Columbia river, and of California, were accomplished in the years 1825-6-7, and the results are to be seen in every garden and every catalogue of plants. He obtained many of the annuals that are now the most popular, also the curious tribe of lilies named Calochortus, some fine species of Ribes, and many more good things, not the least amongst them either in magnitude or importance being the magnificent Columbian fir (Abies Douglasi), which in its native country attains a height of 300 feet, and if we may judge by the noble specimen in the grounds at Dropmore, is likely to attain a similar stature in this country if enabled to hold its own against the storms of heaven and the destructive propensities of man.

The life of David Douglas was largely chequered with misfortunes. In a journal he sent, with collections of seeds, insects, birds, &c., from Western America, he relates that he had pursued his explorations when his knee was disabled by an accident, and his sight was so dim that he could hardly use his gun. And he humorously tells of an old chief at Oak Point named Tha-a-muxci, who had a profound yearning for the luxury of being shaved, and was gratified by Mr. Douglas using his razor upon his face, in return for which kindness he accompanied the botanist "all along the coast and sixty miles up the Cheecheetin river." When he met with the giant fir that has been named in remembrance of him, he makes note in his journal that "new or strange things seldom fail to make great impressions, and we are often at first liable to overrate them;" and further on he remarks, "lest I should never see my friends to tell them verbally of these most beautiful and extremely large trees."

The career of Douglas was as brief as it was brilliant. At the age of 36, being then engaged in botanical explorations in the Sandwich Islands, he fell into a pit that had been designed as a trap for buffaloes, and wherein one had been already caught. The infuriated beast killed the intruder, but not without a struggle, for the unhappy man fought hard for his life. This occurred July 12, 1834.