STATE HOETICULTUBAL SOCIETY. 75 



power and not boy-power. We have no time for a flower garden — 

 but flowers are fit for the sick and to carry sympathy when words 

 fail, but they are as sad as beautiful. A sacrifice they always seem; 

 every petal proclaiming, " We all do fade as a leaf." Let others en- 

 joy the house-plant — we don't want it. 



I often pity the poor souls who seem to think they prove a love 

 of flowers by giving the sunniest corner of the room to a few strag- 

 gling plants. By the ardor with which the red spider is hunted, I 

 have sometimes thought house-plants were kept for the purpose of 

 raising spiders. I, too, love flowers; but I will take my message from 

 the hepatica growing in the quiet woods, and not from the stereo- 

 typed smile of the red geranium. Into our homes let us not bring 

 anything but the necessities of life — -each family deciding for itself. 

 Books may be a necessity for you — a piano for me. If a neighbor 

 finds pictures one of his necessities, and hangs good ones on his 

 walls, let us not be guilty of harboring a chromo. Let us be honest 

 and dare to make our homes like ourselves — not assuming to like 

 what we do not. 



There is a plant growing in most of our homes — a much neg- 

 lected plant in many. A plant not mentioned for discussion by this 

 Society, but spoken of by the Psalmist. ''Thy children like thine 

 plants wind about thy table." To the proper culture of this plant 

 let our homes and our time be devoted. In such homes as ours this 

 can best be done. Luxury never helped a child. Necessary as 

 wealth is to the fostering of the arts and sciences, human nature 

 develops best with simple surroundings. Be the home in a palace or 

 a cottage, among icebergs or on the Sahara, these plants, these child- 

 ren should be the chief ornaments. The girls, with their dainty 

 ways, the boys — oh, bless the boys, big or little, rich or poor, black 

 eyes, brown eyes, or blue eyes — I love them all. How they put 

 care at a discount; how they fill the heart with hope; how they 

 rest the tired feet and smooth out the wrinkles. Magicians are 

 they! Most comforting, yet most abused of all God's creation. 

 Who shall be bold enough to sing their praises? Whittier did, but 

 he sung of a barefoot boy. Who will speak a word for the boy 

 with muddy boots? 



Who is this boy? In your home your invited guest; in my 

 home my invited <;uest; into this world of physical pain, mental 

 anguish, hungry children-. A doubtful gift! 



We hear of the duty of the child to thn parent; I doubt if he 

 has any. What can be said of the responsibility of the parent to the 

 child? A responsibility so awful, so overwhelming, that a thoughtful 

 parent must often wish the earth would open and swallow it and 

 him. What have our children a right to ask of us? First, un- 

 doubtedly, healthy bodies and minds. Do all children inherit these? 

 The many little ones who come handicapped for life by weak bodies 

 and weaker minds, and tainted moral natures, are a bad answer to 



