4 



HOME AND FLOWERS 



of practical benefit. I would like to en- 

 courage every person who loves flowers to 

 attempt the culture of them b}' the influ- 

 ence of Home and Flowers, and if I 

 succeed in doing that I shall be satisfied, 

 and satisfied^ too^ that the magazine is 

 fulfilling its purpose. 



^ •!' 



Some letters of complaint have come 

 in about my refusal to establish an ^^ex- 

 change" department. But a few have been 

 received which strengthen my belief in 

 the wisdom of that refusal. One lady 

 writes that she sent plants and bulbs to 

 a "poor woman who loved flowers, but 

 could not afford to buy any/' and she has 

 since found out that so many were sent 

 that this "poor woman" realized over one 

 hundred dollars in one year by selling her 

 charitably contributed plants. Another 



writes that she was promised a lot of seeds 

 if she would send the names of ten persons 

 who were interested in flowers. She sent 

 the names, and these parties have ever 

 since been annoyed by requests from dif- 

 ferent parties for contributions to char- 

 itable and benevolent purposes. All of 

 them are no doubt fraudulent methods to 

 obtain money. Another writes that she 

 exchanged with a party who promised 

 "choice 2:)lants.'' When the "choice" plants 

 came they were the very commonest of 

 annuals, evidently dug up from the garden 

 where they had sowed themselves. Other 

 letters tell about impositions of other 

 kinds, all going to show that so many 

 unscrupulous persons who want something 

 for nothing take advantage of an "ex- 

 change" department, that I am more than 

 ever opposed to having one. 



THE LEGEisTD OF THE THOENLESS EOSE 



One summer day a lover brought a rose 



To her he loved. "Behold, sweetheart," said he, 



"'No fairer blossom in the garden grows. 

 And as this is the flower of love shall be." 



Slie took the blossom, smiling up at him, 



But ah ! a sharp thorn pierced her tender hand. 



And in that moment her sweet eyes grew dim 

 With pain the man^s heart could not understand. 



"Dear heart, my love is not like yours," said she. 

 And kissed the blossom that had wounded her. 



Its milkwhite petals stained with drops of red. 

 Yet sweet with fragrances of musk and myrrh. 



Years came, and passed away. Her tender heart 

 Was often wounded. Many a time it bled. 



But with a woman's smile she hid the smart. 

 For "Love, though cruel, still is sw^et," she said. 



She died, and from her low, green grave there grew 

 A rose on which there was not any thorn. 



And from that heart of hers which was so true 

 The thornless rose, before, unknown, was born. 



