Proceedings of the Faemers' Club. 333 



of beautiful flowers, may be most conveniently supplied in tlie form 

 of leaf mould, or swamp muck, whicli will yield more carbon than it 

 will of any other element. 



"We have now the ingredients required to form one of the best 

 kinds of compost for flower beds that was ever employed. And one 

 of the most satisfactory recommendations of such a compost is its 

 extreme cheapness. A ton of it can be made in most localities for 

 nothing, except the labor of one man for a few hours. Procure a 

 wagon load or two of leaf mould, fine swamp muck, or black and 

 fine street dirt ; spread it a few inches thick on the ground, rake out 

 all the course tufts o'f grass and sticks ; mingle with the mould about 

 one-third its bulk of sand ; add several bushels of iron turnings and 

 iron filings, ten bushels of wood ashes, and ten of coal ashes sifted, 

 and a few bushels of slacked lime will do no harm. Let this mass be 

 raked over, at least every month during the growing season. By 

 forking it over, every noxious weed will be destroyed ; and by the 

 following season a mellow compost will be prepared that will be 

 exactly what all flowers need for developing stems and leaves in the 

 most admirable perfection, and petals of exquisite beauty.t If the 

 compost heap was to receive all the soap suds of the kitchen, for a 

 year, the pabulum for flowers will be largely increased. 



The Yoice of Beautiful Flowers. 



Beautiful flowers teach us instructive lessons of the grand purpose 

 of our existence when they bloom in an obscure corner, shed their 

 perfume on the ambient air, and then return "earth to earth and 

 dust to dust." They afford beautiful commentary also, on the demise 

 of him or her who has lived to love and be loved, but who now sleeps 

 embalmed in the memory of loved ones who mourn for the departed. 

 When the bright queen of spring unlocks the icy fetters of stern 

 winter, casts her rob^ of beauty on the trees and flowers, and leaves 

 her perfumed breath in ' every breeze, the beautiful flowers lift up 

 their heads and open their petalu to teach us of a triumphant resur- 

 rection from the gloomy and silent night of the grave, and of a 

 glorious immortality for the virtuous and the pure. AVhen we meet a 

 poor blind person, moved with pity and sympathy at his calamity, 

 we instinctively give him or her a wide path. jSTotwithstanding all 

 our boasted wisdom, we look through a glass darkly ; and who dares 

 to affirm that, when the spirits of bliss bow their swift wings on 

 messages of love to earth, they do not dodge us, blind guides, as we 



