130 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



December, 1918 



to get their usual replenishing stocks. 

 Practically no bulbs have been sent 

 from Holland this year, whence be- 

 fore came great cargoes of Tulips 

 and Narcissus, Hyacinths and Free- 

 sias. As for Belgium, once a land 

 of florists and nurserymen — almost all 

 our potted Azaleas, for instance, were 

 grown in Belgium — it is now a dreary 

 flowerless waste, for what Germany 

 could not steal she has wickedly de- 

 stroyed. So with fuel cut in half and 

 these staple stocks not to be had at all, 

 the florist has big problems to solve. 



Add to these the fact that many, 

 many people have come to believe 

 that flowers are a luxury, like taxis 

 and white kid gloves, and have decided 

 to cut out buying them. And then think of the 

 increased cost of labor and greenhouse supplies, 

 and everything else that a florist has to use, and 

 you'll see without further explanation that the 

 florists might be pardoned and excused if they 

 wouldn't give away a single flower to any one. 



t)UT none of these things has stopped their 

 *-* generosity. When they give their flowers 

 they are giving the staples of their trade, taking 

 money from their pockets — but their record for 

 giving even under the adverse circumstances I 

 have recited above might well make some of the 

 rest of us indulge in some pretty soul-searching 

 thoughts. 



I have said that the Florists' Association is 

 composed of eminently practical men, and the 

 way they have assembled and made available 

 the great quantities of flowers they have given 

 to this beautiful and touching service proves it. 

 They were not content with just giving the 

 flowers — they saw that there must be some way 

 to give the flowers a little permanence by each 

 bedside. So it was the florists who gave the 



dozens and dozens of small vases, one of 

 which finds a place on each little white en- 

 amelled table, all up and down 

 the many wards, in the many hos- 

 pitals, and also the big vases to 

 hold the one large central bou- 

 quet. They made the gift, you 

 t\ see, thoughtfully complete. 



If there is any one in the world 

 who thinks it is a waste of time 

 and effort to take flowers to the 

 sick and wounded boys of our 

 fighting forces, if there are those 

 why say that " boys don't pay any 

 attention to flowers, and think it is sissy 

 and babyish to have them around" — well, 

 this mythical — I am sure he is only mythi- 

 cal — person ought to make the rounds of 

 the hospitals with Mrs. Curtin and her helpers. 

 At one base hospital, where there are fifty-two 

 wards, the Flower Ladies make their rounds 

 through one half the wards in one day and the 

 other half the next. Some of the boys who have 

 learned their system — convalescing chaps, who 

 can hobble about — are sure to waylay the Flower 

 Ladies and ask for flowers out of turn, so much 

 do they covet them. They will beg most amus- 

 ingly for "just one rose," or "I do want a red 

 Carnation, they smell so good," and it is hard 

 indeed to withstand them. "I wrote home 

 about the flowers you give us and Mother wants 

 me to thank you for her," is a tribute that is 

 given over and over and over again. 



npHERE was a pretty incident, too, of the 

 ■*• California troops who got the flowers in- 

 tended for the sailors' hospital. As Mrs. Curtin 

 and her aids, with a motor filled with blooms, 

 were crossing a railroad viaduct they heard the 

 clamor of voices below and got out to see what 

 was going on. They leaned over — their arms 

 filled with flowers — and saw a troop train. 



At once, of course, the occupants of the troop 

 train saw the flowers. "Oh throw us down some 

 flowers," they begged. The Flower Ladies 

 complied, willingly, and added magazines and 

 cigarettes — stripped the motor cars bare of 

 everything that had been intended for the sailors. 



"Where are you from, boys?" they asked. 



"California, and we've been on the train for 

 seven days and we're aw'fly sick of it. The 

 flowers are like a little piece of home — we've got 

 lots of flowers in California. Thank you and 

 thank you for them." 



"You're more than welcome. We were taking 

 them over to the sailors in the hospital on Ellis 

 Island," the Flower Ladies explained. 



"Give the sailors our love," chorused the voices 

 below, "and ask them not to mind that we got 

 their treat, just this once. It means a lot to us." 

 • So the Flower Ladies went on, empty-handed, 

 and when they got to the hospital they told the 

 sailors exactly what had become of the flowers 

 and cigarettes and magazines, and then — oh, 

 the good sports they were — every sailor that 

 could lift his voice joined in a hearty cheer for 

 the boys that had got their treat and for the 

 women who had been wise enough to give it to 

 them. 



Yes, the boys like the flowers — even the ones 

 who say the least about it. It is natural that it 

 should be so, for it must be a warped and de- 

 based nature which does not respond to beauty 

 and color and perfume cunningly combined by 

 Nature into a blossom. 



But the flowers do much more than give a 

 merely esthetic pleasure. It has been found that 

 their presence in a ward has a distinct therapeutic 

 value. In cases of shell-shock they have been 

 known to rouse the scattered faculties when all 

 else has failed. 



For three weeks one pitiful lad, suffering with 

 shell-shock, could not be induced to speak. 

 Nothing roused him, nothing mattered to him. 



© Underwood & Underwood 

 Distribution of flowers to soldiers in the Columbia base hospital. New York, under the direction for the National League for Woman's Service 



