THE FLORAL WOELD AND GARDEN GUIDE. m 



charcoal and some water for preserving single flowers or stems, and 

 in between these again were saucers for plants in pots. This also 

 promised well, but now I made my grand mistake. I obtained a 

 long, graceful, feathery moss (Hypimm nitens) I had admired in the 

 woods, and tlioutjlit I had dried it, but to my dismay discovered it to 

 be teeming with animal life. I made the discovery only when the 

 inside of nearly all the bulbs had been eaten away ; in most cases 

 the shoot had been pierced at the shoulder, and the flower-bud 

 neatly eaten out. It was truly a heartrending spectacle, as may 

 easily be imagined. However, as it was too late in the season to 

 replace them in kind, there was nothing for it but to have recourse 

 to the woods, and fill the spaces as well as circumstances will allow 

 by hardy subjects, hoping for better times rather later in the year. 



Now I do not think all this would have happened had I chosen 

 the close short moss {Rijpimm tivjosuroides) which is found growing 

 in damp places and about ti*ees, and is the kind, I think, always 

 used by gardeners for placing round pots for indoor decoration, I 

 suppose for this very reason, viz., its freedom from vermin. There 

 was a kind of moss which resembled this hypnum very closely in 

 mode of growth, in the woods here last autumn ; it was growing in 

 an open space at the foot of some trees that I fancy must have been 

 beeches, but am not sure, having only noticed the splendid effect in 

 the sunshine of the rich tones of bronzy orange, yellow and green, 

 that formed the foreground for their cool grey stems. Yerily, it 

 was a sight for a painter to admire, and despair of reproducing. Some 

 of this moss was brought to me afterwards, and it lasted a long 

 time in very fair condition and colour, and was quite free from 

 insects. 



But the object of recounting this sad tale of disaster is to ex- 

 press the hope that one of your many readers may take the subject 

 up, and perhaps give amateurs a little practical advice about my 

 next difficulty ; viz., dust. In spite of every care, my plants are 

 white and dry with it. This is partly accounted for by the turf and 

 wood consumed in the stoves, and the small draught obtainable in a 

 room with double windows and no chimney. I know the ordinary 

 course of proceeding in such a case, and have practised it when the 

 plants declined to live any longer under present circumstances. 

 But I am supposing, as in the paper above referred to, the case of 

 an invalid who has no spare money for the renewal of spoilt flowers, 

 and who may find herself shut up all the winter in one small room 

 not daring to go to an open window, far less make a splash on a 

 balcony two or three times a week. Covering the plants with a 

 damp cloth at night answers, I know, pretty well ; if they are not 

 too high, or in flower, but it is troublesome ; water is not always at 

 hand : some rheumatic patients may not even toucli damp things, 

 and, in fact, very few persons care to do it. " They do not see 

 their way." 



Whilst pondering over this phase of the question, I came upon 

 a receipt in "Enquire Within," which seemed to me to start an 

 idea likely to lead to practical results. It runs as follows : — " Maps 

 and charts may be effectually varnished by brushing a very delicate 



April, 



