74 
TflE FLORIST AND POMOLOGIST. 
[ April, 
sort of people always are “ liappy,”—by courtesy, at any rate), when the one has, 
in profound meekness, put the fateful question, and the other has gently settled it ? 
And is it not thus with the florist also, as his green buds flush with colour, 
and the bloom breaks gradually over the breadth of his plants, like the summer 
sunrise, that catches first the peaks upon the hills, but spreads and brightens by 
degrees, until at last the whole scene of hill and dale, and winding silver river, 
lies beautiful in the light of the blooming day ? 
Florist flowers almost put a girdle round the year. It is not a very long gap 
between the last Chrysanthemum and the first Auricula, or her earlier sister, the 
Polyanthus; while other flowers, such as the Camellia and Cineraria, possessing 
florist properties, in some degree, fill up various intervals. 
With the Auricula, we enter upon the blooming-season that will stretch into 
the far summer with the Carnation and Picotee, and into the late autumn with 
the Dahlia and Gladiolus. There will be gayer floral scenes for us than the 
coming one, but nothing will overlay the fair memories of April with the 
Auricula, not even the witcheries of the ever-changing Eose. 
As I have only one emerald-edged pip of grand old Champion (Page’s) in 
flower as I write this, I am unable this time to describe the bloom from sight, though 
I might do so, after a manner, by drawing on the past, as stored in memory and 
notes, or by anticipating the promise in the future as folded in the buds, fast 
rising now upon their stems. However, I will ask the Editor, who has so long 
entrusted me with space within these pages, to grant me a little more. [Most 
gladly, Ed.] I am like the boy near home. The bloom is all but in sight! Let 
us go slow! 
With a good deal of snow, and frost enough to skate by, March has not been 
more like a lion than a Polar bear. The plants, however, have been growing 
finely through it, for I thought it well to take the chill off those few nights 
here, with their 12° to 18° of frost, so kept a quiet fire on, which I only use for 
Auriculas as an auxiliary for the outside shading, when that is not protection 
enough in sharp spring frosts. 
The work with these plants in April is indeed welcome work, guiding them 
through their bloom in constant recollection that, though the plant itself is 
hardy enough, yet the bloom is tender and easily injured. Every grower, 
whether of a dozen or a thousand plants, and whether he means to exhibit or 
not, should be determined to take as much pains as if he did. Nothing less will 
make the bloom satisfactory to him. It is the poorest mistake, and the most 
pitiable of excuses, to say, “I do not grow them for exhibition, so they will do 
well enough for me.” No one is fit to be trusted with a plant, any more than 
with a dog, if he means to ill-treat it. Like a dog, it is a good thing thrown 
away upon him, and the sight is grievous. 
The plants may be kept pretty freely supplied with water during April. 
Let it be at least as warm as the air that surrounds them. They will soon be 
throwing out Very strong new roots from the higher parts of the stem, and these 
