50 ABOUT ORCHIDS. 
take the simple form, is one body with several 
limbs,crowned byone head. Its circulation pulsates 
through the whole, less and less vigorously, of 
course, in the parts that have flowered, as the 
crowing head leaves them behind. At some age, 
no doubt, circulation fails altogether in those old 
limbs, but experience does not tell me distinctly 
as yet in how long time the worn-out bulbs of an 
Oncidium or a Cattleya, for example, would perish 
by natural death. One may cut them off when 
apparently lifeless, even beginning to rot, and 
under proper conditions—it may be a twelvemonth 
after—a tiny green shoot will push from some 
“eye,” withered and invisible, that has slept for 
years, and begin existence on its own account. 
Thus, I am not old enough as an orchidacean to 
judge through how many seasons these plants will 
maintain a limb apparently superfluous. Their 
charming disposition is characterized above all 
things by caution and foresight. They keep as 
many strings to their bow, as many shots in their 
locker, as may be, and they keep them as long as 
possible. The tender young head may be nipped 
off by a thousand chances, but such mishaps only 
rouse the indomitable thing to replace it with 
two, or even more. Beings designed for immor- 
tality are hard to kill. 
