124 
THE FLORIST AND FOMOLOGIST. 
and I reluctantly bid them farewell, till another season shall, I trust, renew 
our pleasureable companionship. I watch the slowly ebbing out of the life of 
these beautiful forms of nature with a mournful interest, and any little attention 
I can bestow to protract the duration of their “ bright career ” is rendered 
with willing service. I cannot feel dull among flowers, unless some dense 
shadow rests on my heart, and obscures the glow their presence imparts; or 
some griping “trial-pain or trial-care” should be relaxing the heartstrings, 
and causing the usual melody of its utterance to become harsh and discordant. 
Amid all the divers ministrations that ever and incessantly come to a human 
heart, with the varied messages they are commissioned to bear, do I gratefully 
recognise „ _ . ... 
° “ The silent ministry of flowers, 
That gently breathe their tenderness, 
Like healing as of summer showers, 
That only nestle down to bless— 
They, softly as a starry scheme, 
My charmed world doth circle round — 
and I sit among them as a crowned victor. 
One of my best scenes comes last in the order of my moving panorama. 
It is that of a Fern dish, constructed of ware, in imitation of wood, and was 
obtained in Covent Garden Market. About six weeks ago I filled it with a 
variety of Polyanthus Narcissus, named Bazelmon Major. I had kept the 
bulbs so long beyond the usual time for planting them, that I had grave 
doubts as to their growing properties; but they have nearly all come into 
bloom. Each truss has about five or six flowers ; each flower being about the 
diameter of a crownpiece, pure white in colour, and having in the centre of 
each a bright yellow cup. They are planted in a mixture of cocoa-nut refuse 
and some loam, having a layer of charcoal at the bottom of the vessel for 
drainage. Some of the trusses are as yet but half developed ; when all are 
fully expanded they will, indeed, form a pile of flowers. Two pots of Hya¬ 
cinths by the side of the foregoing richly deserve a passing notice. One has 
three bulbs of Lord Wellington; the other three of Josephine, double Reds; 
the former delicate blush, the last deep flesh colour. From the first pot I have 
got five spikes of flowers, two of the bulbs throwing two spikes each. 
Josephine yields me but three spikes ; but it is a variety well worth growing 
by those who have a fondness for double Hyacinths. The bulbs were planted 
about the second week in February, and, as in the case of the Narcissus, I am 
astonished and pleased they have done so well. I deferred the planting until 
the furthest possible date, to give me a succession of bloom. With these are 
some half dozen single Reds, planted at the same time, but that have not 
succeeded so well, yet are very gay. The spikes are not nearly so large as 
those of the batch that immediately preceded them; but, though started so 
late, I did not get one failure. Still, with the drawback of lessened size, they 
are valuable, because late. There is Yon Schiller, L’Etincellante, L’Ornement 
de la Nature, and Bride of Lammermoor; and there is also a single Blue or 
two. They are the ‘‘ last of the race” in relation to the present season. Two 
very pretty single Yellow Hyacinths were turned out of their pots only a few 
days ago—viz., Heroine and La Citronniere. Two from glasses joined them 
in their ignoble fellowship on the refuse heap—viz., Alida Jacoba and Anna 
Carolina. These four varieties are very similar, yet all good spikes, and 
wmrthy of cultivation. I am very fond of single Yellow Hyacinths, and these 
get quite a lion’s share of my attention. They had the best soil, the best 
position in my window, and the most careful tending, and w r ell was I rewarded. 
I never find painstaking attention to be thrown away on the cultivation of 
plants. As in many of the weightier matters of daily life—“ As you sow and 
tend, so will you reap.” 
