EAILWAY GARDENING IX CALIFORNIA. i ^> 



pears and morning comes, its mission is ended, its work accomplished. 



The belladonna lily teaches a spiritual lesson. From the bulb 

 come the green leaves, a fine foliage., healthy and strong, reminding 

 one of this life, growing and nourishing the plant, probably preparing 

 for the change which soon comes. In a few weeks there is nothing 

 there, not a vestige of green left. Life seems over, and its work accom- 

 plished. Later on, up comes a beautiful shoot, unlike the former plant 

 in size, shape, and color. We know it comes from the same source, and 

 we can only say, "How gloriously changed !" So we are taught the 

 doctrine of the resurrection and of the blessed hereafter, when our loved 

 ones, free from earthly sins and stains, come forth clothed in new 

 forms, glorious beyond description; and we and they shall meet in a 

 land fairer than Hesperides, where the flowers never fade nor the fruits 

 blight; and we shall be more blessed than was ever. dreamed of by the 

 mythology of old, or hoped for in the realities of earth. 



San Francisco, Gal. 



RAILWAY GARDENING IN CALIFORNIA. 



BY JOHANNUS REIMERS. 



There is probably no place where a garden is more appreciated by 

 the public than at a railway station. Folks when out traveling have 

 their eyes with them; they are open to all kinds of impression, and 

 such as at home would in passing be barely noticed and even remain 

 entirely unobserved, if met on travels, are welcomed with an interest 

 highly profitable. The beautiful has added beauty; the partly-hidden 

 and insignificant becomes obvious ; the eye searches greedily for new 

 impressions when we are out a-traveling. 



This, then, is probably the fundamental raison d'etre of the rail- 

 road gardens. Culture has been given to otherwise ugly situations; 

 trees have been planted along right-of-way fences; vacant spots have 

 been transformed from barren cinders into beauty spots of lawns and 

 flowers; hot platforms and sidewalks have had the spotted shadows of 

 trees thrown over them; the cheerless has been transformed into 

 jubilant symphonies of colors and cool shadows, inviting, indeed, when 

 summer burns the traveler's back. 



The refining influence of such station gardens, situated as they are 

 along the the highways of civilization, can hardly be overestimated. 

 Not alone the traveler receives benefit from them, but there is the agent 

 and his family, by whose home the garden is planted. In the desola- 

 tion of the burning plains, and his often lonely existence, it furnishes 



