Pleasure in Floral Catalogues 



BY DEBORA OTIS 



GOD bless the man who first in- 

 vented sleep," some writer says. 

 The same to him who first made 

 floral catalogues, so Mrs. Lawson says, 

 and so say I. Xeither Mrs. Lawson nor I 

 derive an income from the seed busi- 

 ness or nursery stock, and the warm feeling 

 we have toward the advertising medium 

 of this business comes not from a mer- 

 cenary point of view. 



It was while living in a small country 

 place in an Eastern state that catalogues 

 came to be such a part of my life. We 

 were many miles from a theater; lectures 

 and concerts were rare; after the gentle 

 ripple caused by Christmas festivities a 

 long shut-in time ensued, which even the 

 pleasures of the local sewing circle or 

 sleigh riding failed to relieve of monotony. 



When beginning to consider all the re- 

 sources of the situation, some evening a 

 neatly wrapped package would be thrown 

 in my lap, and, on opening it, out would 

 drop what would at first sight seem almost 

 like a bouquet, in such gorgeous colors was 

 the catalogue arrayed. Oh, the joy with 

 which this was hailed! My garden, the 

 solace of my summers, was covered with 

 its downy blanket, and I had forgotten the 

 pleasure of planning for the coming 

 spring. Suddenly the world looked 

 brighter to me, and I realized that a season 

 had dawned for me, just as surely as the 

 first snow brought a season for the chil- 

 dren. This would be the first of many 

 of these cheering messengers to come 

 dropping in at intervals, as one gives bon- 

 bons to children to insure good behavior. 



Let the wind whistle and the snow whirl 

 now; I might not cheat the hours by 

 watching mimic joys and sorrows on the 

 stage, but I could model and remodel all 

 my garden walks and carpet every nook 

 and corner with fair forms and glowing 

 tints, whose fragrance should be wafted 

 to my windows on the summer evenings. 



Let me assure you who laugh at my 

 poor substitute for the theater that you 

 little know its power on the imagination 

 until you have been thrown on it as a 

 resource. You, my friend, who hand the 

 catalogue to your gardener with, per- 

 chance, a few instructions, will not be 

 able to understand me. Eestriction lends 

 zest to every joy, and none may know the 

 full delights of gardening who does not 

 handle the brown earth herself in the 

 lighter parts of the work, and either for 

 the lack of space or means can not indulge 

 her passion for gardening to the full. 



There are many disappointments in 

 gardening, but in gardening by my fireside 

 no bud ever blights, no seed fails to grow. 

 Weeds modestly keep themselves in abey- 

 ance, chosen colors riot in masses or soft 

 clouds, and my picture is painted with all 

 the accuracy of a well-trained artist hand- 

 ling his pigments. 



With catalogues came a mass of collat- 

 eral reading, descriptive of many styles of 

 gardening, and the delightful occupation 

 of choosing the effect to be brought out in 

 my own grounds. Here again was the 

 advantage of the quiet fireside ; if the effect 

 upon more mature consideration was 

 found to be ill adapted in some particular, 

 nothing was easier than to transform an 

 old English cottage style to the formal 

 Italian, or the artistic Japanese. Even 

 a pergola might be dreamed of, notwith- 

 standing the fact there was no possible 

 place where one could be introduced in my 

 grounds. 



When the style to be brought out was 

 decided on, the order must be nicely bal- 

 anced among annuals, perennials, shrubs, 

 and bulbs, as the allurements of none could 

 be resisted, and after the claim of each 

 had been considered came the novelties. 



The gambling spirit is said to be strong 

 in all agriculturists, which is not to be 

 wondered at; a business dependent on the 



