16 ABOUT ORCHIDS. 
that confession will cheer him. However deep his 
ignorance, it could not possibly be more finished 
than mine some dozen years ago; and yet If may 
say, Je suzs arrivé! What that greenhouse cost, 
“ chilled remembrance shudders ”’ to recall ; briefly, 
six times the amount, at least, which I should find 
ample now. And it was all wrong when done; 
not a trace of the original arrangement remains at 
this time, but there are inherent defects. Nothing 
throve, of course—except the insects. Mildew 
seized my roses as fast as I put them in; 
camellias dropped their buds with rigid punctu- 
ality ; azaleas were devoured by thrips ; “ bugs,” 
mealy and scaly, gathered to the feast ; geraniums 
and pelargoniums grew like giants, but declined to 
flower. I consulted the local authority who was 
responsible for the well-being of a dozen gardens 
in the neighbourhood—an expert with a character 
to lose, from whom I bought largely. Said he, 
after a thorough inspection: “ This concrete floor 
holds the water ; you must have it swept carefully 
night and morning.” That worthy man had a 
large business. His advice was sought by scores 
of neighbours like myself. And I tell the story as 
a warning; for he represents no small section of 
his class. My plants wanted not less but a great 
deal more water on that villainous concrete floor. 
