20 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
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ANTIRRHINUM GRA3CUM— snap-dragon. 
Snap-Dragon. —(Antirrhinum ) 
In our seed list (No. 83) is the Snap-Dragon, 
(Antirrhinum majus,) so called from a peculiarity 
cf its flower, which, when gently pressed with the 
thumb and finger opens and shuts somew’hat like 
an animal’s mouth. The Toad Flax (Antirrhinum 
linaria) of (he road side, with its bright yellow 
and orange flowers, is a good type of this family, 
though greatly inferior to the cultivated varieties. 
The garden Snap-Dragon is considered a per¬ 
ennial, but is very apt to die out after a few years. 
It often flowers the same season it is sown. 
Latterly some very fine varieties have been pro¬ 
duced, of pure white, bright red, rich crimson, and 
variegated colors. The flowers are mainly soli¬ 
tary on the armpits of the leaves, and in most va¬ 
rieties of the Antirrhinum majus are very pretty. 
The plants are easily propagated from seed, cut¬ 
tings, or divisions of the roots. 
Above we present a beautiful e.ngraving re¬ 
produced from a foreign journal, which show’s a 
growing plant, together with a separate flower 
and seed capsule, both enlarged to show the form. 
This is taken from a new variety, Antirrhinum 
Morea, lately found in the Morea (Greece). Though 
not yet introduced into this country, it doubtless 
soon will be, and take a favorable rank with the 
new, improved seedlings of the present day. It 
is of elegant form, as the engraving shows, and 
is described as bearing flowers of lively yellow 
color which continue in succession during sever¬ 
al weeks. Its fine cut leaves, and down-covered, 
slende* stems add greatly to its beauty. 
An Amateur’s Troubles with Dahlias. 
To the Editor of the American Agriculturist: 
Supposing you know everything, and are ready 
to sympathize with everybody, I wish to pour into 
your ears a tale of woe—all about dahlias. I once 
thought I understood the subject thoroughly. Sev¬ 
eral years ago, I bought a dozen sorts, and, the 
first season being a very favorable one, I had con¬ 
siderable success. In the following Winter, how¬ 
ever, I lost them : they molded and died. Last 
Summer, I tried again. Determined to outshine 
my neighbors, I gathered up several catalogues 
of the florists and nurserymen, made out a long 
list of the most showy varieties, ordered them 
from East and West regardless of expense, and 
planted them in the most “learned” manner. I 
had read somewhere that the dahlia was a native 
of Mexico, and thrived best on the sandy shores of 
the rivers. Keeping the secret from my ambitious 
neighbors, I carted several loads of sand into my 
garden,and set out my far-fetched and dear-bought 
plants in it. Then, I got some long stakes of 
white pine, neatly planed and painted green, and 
to the top of each, attached the name of every 
plant in conspicuous letters. It was a grand 
thing, sir, to pace up qpd down my flower-garden, 
reading these high-sounding names all in a row. 
Here w r as Agnes, described in the catalogues, as 
“pure white, beautiful Cherubim, yellow, mark¬ 
ed with purple ; Dul;e of Cambridge, silvery lilac; 
Earl of Clarendon, mottled orange ; Gem of the 
Grove, dark maroon ; Louis Phillippe, Millard 
Fillmore, Nigger, Morning Star, Sir John Franklin. 
Shylock, Queen Victoria, Don Quixotle, and many 
others with equally grand names, and promises of 
the most brilliant blossoms. It was my daily de¬ 
light to bring in my family and friends, and march 
them along the walks, showing them my magnifi¬ 
cent array of stakes and promising plants. “ These 
stakes are all very well,” said a crusty old man, 
one day late in Summer, “ and the names are well 
printed on the top, and the plants are beginning 
to grow, but I would like better to see the flow¬ 
ers themselves.” “ Never fear sir,” I replied, a 
little nettled, “ the flowers are sure to come, for 
the plants are of the most costly kinds and are 
set out on a new and improved method.” About 
this time, too, so full was I of dahlia knowledge 
and zeal, I prepared a long article on the culture 
of this plant, and sent it to a horticultural paper, 
and, for a wonder, it was printed. 
Well sir, to cut this tale short, my dahlias were 
a grand failure! The plants made only a weak 
growth, and formed a few flower-buds early in 
the season ; but when the extreme heat of Au¬ 
gust and September came on, they “ dried up,” and 
were eaten up by insects; and so in the end I 
had only about half a dozen blooms! And, 
(plague on them !)my neighbors looked over the 
garden fence at my forlorn plants, and professed 
to pity me. Now, sir, it has cost me some sac¬ 
rifice of feeling to make this confession of ill- 
luck ; but I know you will not blaze my name 
abroad, and that you will give me the advice I 
need. . Sadly, Yours, 
A Crest-fallen Amateur. 
To the above piteous complaint, the following 
was the bulk of our reply : 
Dear sir :—We deeply sympathize with you in 
your misfortunes. It must have been a cruel 
mockery to see those grand names and those 
high-flown promises of rainbow colors turn to 
nothing. But it’s not the first time such things 
have happened. The dahlia is a very capricious 
flower. Its blooming seems to depend very much 
upon the soil, situation, and the season. You 
doubtless mistook in planting your roots in the 
sand. That might have answered well enough il 
the season had been rainy, but in your region it 
was uncommonly dry. The dahlia does not need 
a very rich soil, but it wants a deep one, so that 
it can draw upon the earth below for moisture in 
dry weather. As to position, no invariable rule 
can be given; but we think it should not be a 
sunny, dry exposure; because, in the latter part 
of Summer, when the plants are expected to 
bloom, the weather is hot, the ground parched, 
and the plants suffer for lack of moisture. On the 
sea-coast, or on the shores of lakes and rivers, the 
nightly exhalations from the water may keep them 
sufficiently moist, whatever their position may 
be ; but in the interior, this is of considerable 
importance. In dry seasons, we have had our 
best flowers from plants on the north side of the 
house or a high fence, or under the partial shade 
of trees. It is well also to set some where they 
will get the drippings from the eaves of small 
buildings. Others may be set on the lawn, if a 
little shaded, and they will often outshine those 
in the open garden. The turf, however, should 
be taken off for a foot and a half in diameter, the 
soil deepened, and a slight depression left about 
the stalk when planted. An application of soap¬ 
suds from the weekly wash will help matters 
along. 
Your method of procuring good and strong 
stakes for your plants, and affixing the name to 
each, is an excellent one. The coarse, dirty sticks 
sometimes used, are a nuisance in a well-kept 
garden, and the short and slender ones often seen, 
are continually blowing down, to the injury or de- 
