THE FLOKAL WORLD AND GARDEN GUIDE. 



275 



who fashioned and sustains alike the 

 planter and the planted? 



Blessed memories of childhood, 

 how come ye troopinj^ back at the 

 thought of spring's first liowers ! — 

 of eager watchings, while the first 

 green spike of snowdrop and of cro- 

 cus developed, the one into its timid 

 bloom, the other into its golden blaze, 

 till the tulips spread their Tyrian dyes 

 beneath a warmer sun — of strolls over 

 sunny uplands, across breezy downs, 

 along the winding river, to seek in 

 greenwood shade its primrose stars, 

 to search for violets in the tangled 

 copse, or homeward turn, wreatlied 

 with fragrant hawthorn boughs. Well 

 do I love summer's garniture of bloom 

 — dearer to me is the music of colour 

 thaa the music of sound ; but were I 

 compelled to choose, I would sooner 

 surrender summer's lavish wealth of 

 flowers, than give up the sweet, 

 the simple playmates of the joyous 

 spring. 



When bulbs are brought into the 

 house, the pots are so filled with roots 

 thnt it is impossible to insert a stick 

 without destroying many, to the in- 

 jury of the flowers, and the perma- 

 nent injurv of the bulb for tlie cext 

 season. Yet, in a window, without a 

 stick, beside their untidy appearance, 

 they lop about in all directions, and 

 run the risk of being broken wb^n 

 their blooms are in their finest and 

 heavie:<t ''ondition. The large flower- 

 ing seedling crocuses would remain 

 longer in perfection if their tendency 

 to draw to the light was counteracted 

 by merely a single thread round their 

 slender stems. I always adopt a 

 simple but efficient plan. To insert 

 the proper-sized sticks when first 

 potted would occupy too much time, 

 and many get broken before the pots 

 are taken up. I take from a bundle 

 of firewood the straightest pieces, and 

 fix one in the middle or side of the 

 pot, in the place the sticks will occu- 

 py when the plants are in flower. 

 Then, before being placed in the 

 window, the wood is removed, its 

 place filled with mould and a slender 

 stick, which, being smaller than the 

 wood, allows a trifle more room for 

 the roots. 



Arum Dracunculus, though quite 

 n2 



hardy, is most eS*ective as a pot 

 plant. It grows three feet in a six- 

 inch pot. perfectly erect, requiring no 

 support ; a North-American tuber 

 of the earliest possible culture, yet 

 of a striking tropical appearance. I 

 think it only requires to be known to 

 be extensively cultivated. Your cor- 

 respondent "Window G-ardener," in 

 last number, might add this to his 

 list, as the growth is as quick as the 

 hyacinth. To give more room for 

 the roots, I raise the earth above the 

 pot, both for this and other bulbous 

 plants, and press it firmly in the 

 shape of a cone ; this prevents them 

 from rising and from getting water- 

 logged when plunged. Two inches 

 will be sufficient to sink the pot in 

 the plunging material. As it stands 

 in a saucer of water, the raising of the 

 earth above the pot causes no incon- 

 venience in watering. For about 

 nine inches it grows in the shape of 

 an extinguisher, and about the same 

 size at the base. At this height the 

 leaves unfold, on long stalks, divided, 

 and bearing a close resemblance to a 

 palm. The whole length of the stem 

 is spotted like a snake, and if the 

 grower has sufficient patience to leave 

 it out of doors till the leaves begia 

 to unfold, it will be much better co- 

 loured than if grown in the house 

 from the first. The leaves keep open- 

 ing one above the other, on alternate 

 sides, and at the top is a long, dark 

 crimson-velvet flower, from the centre 

 of which rises a black stem. After 

 blooming it can be turned out of the 

 pot to ripen in the open ground ; but 

 wherever grown it must be sheltered 

 from the wind, as it is likely to snap 

 the stem, and it shrivels up the leaves. 

 Its utter dissimilarity to any other 

 plant, and its exotic mode of growth, 

 arrest the step of many a passer-by. 

 Even the children ask " when the 

 palm tree is coming ;" for, ere they 

 are " worn and hackneyed in the 

 ways of men," I have taught them 

 my own love of horticulture — purest 

 of all pleasures. And perhaps in 

 after years, when in life's stern 

 struggle the eye grows weary and the 

 heart grows faint — as some familiar 

 fragrance floats past upon the va- 

 grant breeze ; or some remembered 



