MINIATURE GREENHOUSES. 
113 
twelve months of life, sprawling and gamboling on the 
mat at your feet, and your Sultan and slave growing rather 
misty and indistinct'through the cloud of incense which he 
is wafting to himself from a censer that, to ordinary eyes, 
has the semblance of a fragrant Havana. 
But tobacco-smoke, you know, is good for insects, or 
rather bad for them, and, therefore, highly favorable to 
your roses and geraniums, which, although not particu¬ 
larized, are supposed to be there. 
For your greenhouse affords, at least, two comfortable 
seats, and, as you loll there amid the delicious Easter fra¬ 
grance and feast your eyes with bloom and beauty, do you 
ever breathe a sigh of regret for the pies you did not eat 
and the bonnet you did not wear ? I trow not. 
The concluding paragraphs of this chapter, with some 
few alterations, are taken from an article by the writer in 
“ Harper’s Bazar.” 
