146 EVERT WOMAN HER OWN FLOWER GARDENER. 



the windward side of the orchard, the smoke will blow among the trees 

 and destroy hundreds, while the flames will attract many moths. Make 

 the fire after nightfall. 



Wasps destroy a quantity of fruit, and all that you can kill in the 

 spring will save a swarm in the autumn. But be careful about letting 

 them sting you, for the smart is severe. If stung, get out the blue-bag 

 from the laundry, and rub it well into the sting, or cover the spot 

 with soft soap, or liquid ammonia, to neutralize the acid of the poi- 

 son. Saleratus wet and rubbed on the wound will also mitigate the 

 pain. 



Cherish the little black and red lady-bug, for it will destroy many 

 green lice, or aphides. They are often to be found on the currant 

 bushes, and I always catch them and give them a home among my roses 

 and geraniums. 



Toads are among the best friends that we can cultivate, so be sure to 

 treat them with kindness. They may eat a few strawberrries, but let 

 them have that privilege in return for the immense quantities of insects 

 they will also eat. If you can have none in your garden, it is well to 

 seek for them in your walks, and bring them home, handling them 

 carefully, for though they have no power to injure you, being perfectly 

 harmless, you can easily kill them. I have a portly couple of them who 

 live under my front door-step, and nightly come forth to feed upon my 

 enemies the noxious insects eating bugs, grubs, moths, millipedes, 

 and caterpillars. 



Bees, of various kinds, are useful in spreading the pollen, so be 

 sure to bid them welcome to all the hidden sweets your flowers con- 

 tain. 



Cultivate the Beautiful. 



"Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity. Chil- 

 dren love them ; quiet, tender, contented, ordinary people love them as 

 they grow ; luxurious and disorderly people rejoice in them gathered. 

 They are the cottager's treasure, and, in the crowded town, mark, as 

 with a little broken fragment of rainbow, the windows of the workers, 

 in whose hearts rests the covenant of peace. To the child and the girl, 

 to the peasant and manufacturing operative, to the grisette and the nun, 

 the lover and the monk, they are precious always." Thus writes Ruskin, 

 the prose poet of the century. 



