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TWENTY-NINTH FRUIT-GROWERS' CONVENTION. 



In gardening for pleasure I have experimented in a haphazard way 

 with seeds and plants, and have evolved some pleasant surprises. 



I once planted some rose seeds which were catalogued to bloom in 

 ninety days — which ninety days was a little ambiguous, to start with, 

 as it didn't state whether it was ninety days from the time the seeds were 

 put in, or from the time they sprouted, or from the time the plants bud- 

 ded. It didn't make much difference anyway, as I only grew one plant 

 and it didn't bloom for three years, but it proved to be a very dainty, 

 graceful climber, and at last when it got good and ready it threw out 

 great clusters of tiny white single roses, of surpassing fragrance, and since 

 I have been unable to find it in any of the rose catalogues, I have 

 decided that it is a new rose. 



I also grew a beautiful vine that came up as- a volunteer, where the 

 year before had grown the cypress vine and the Cuban belle. It seemed 

 to be a hybrid, with a blossom like the cypress and a leaf like the Cuban 

 belle, only deeply serrated, and was more beautiful than either vine. 

 I sent some of the blossoms and leaves to several florists, but none of 

 them could name it. I grew two of these vines at different times, but 

 was never able to get any seed from them. 



I have also experimented with carnation pinks, and find that the 

 choice varieties started in greenhouses are not so satisfactory as some 

 of the commoner sorts. I have finally succeeded very well with a 

 field-grown variety, that has all the good qualities sought for except 

 size — and it could be brought up in that particular with proper care. 

 It is perfectly hardy, is a good crimson, has a spicy fragrance, a long, 

 slender drooping stem, and never breaks the calyx. I know of no other 

 pink that brings such a wealth of bloom and fragrance for the care and 

 time put upon it. I start the slips out of doors in November, as they 

 are not susceptible to winter's frosts or summer's heat. It is not a 

 named variety, but a simple seedling. 



After all, the purest pleasure in gardening lies in the ownership. There 

 is no garden, however grand, that can compare with your own; there 

 are no blossoms so sweet as those that are cared for by your own hands. 

 To plant the seed, to watch it sprout and expand, to water anji culti- 

 vate that plant, to see it thrive and burgeon and blossom under your 

 care, to admire its coloring and breathe its fragrance, is nothing short 

 of rapturous joy. 



And then if you pick a nosegay of your own growing and carry it to a 

 friend, there is more in its meaning than mere flowers — there is some- 

 thing of yourself mingled with the moist leaves and fresh blossoms — 

 there is something breathes of a friendship pure and holy — there is a 

 spirit of effort on the part of the giver, a spirit of thought and care 

 and time, that makes it more blessed to give than to receive. 



Let us strive, then, to make of our home a haven of rest, a refuge from 

 weariness and strife; let us throw in and around our homes an atmos- 



