THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, April 17, 1860. 
and in exciting tlie inmates with a larger supply of oxygen than 
they otherwise would have had. The health-giving air that might 
have been neglected will often be given, because there the plants 
are reminding us that they too are needing it. Then think of the 
powerful influence for good they exercise by the laws of change 
and association even upon the healthy, and far more upon the 
invalid, to whom the monotony of everything around him be¬ 
comes next to unbearable. Who has not noticed the strong 
sympathy for plants evinced by the patients in the wards of our 
hospitals ? That man with the tears coursing down his pale cheeks 
as almost unconsciously he fingers the leaves of that Primrose, 
is finding that to him it is more than a volume of reminiscences 
ot old times, when he was an innocent, healthy, roystering boy 
on the village green. Had I the power and the means, I would 
like to see pretty plants in pots and cut flowers in the wards of 
our hospitals, as well as in private sick-rooms, and these I would 
have kept clean and in excellent order ; and if not changed, fresh 
arranged every day, so that even they would never weary by 
sameness. 
I agree so far with Miss Knowall, that every plant that is dis¬ 
agreeable or injurious, or oven thought to bo so, should be 
instantly removed from bed-rooms and sick rooms. Even what 
is called “ fancy ” must be attended to. What is mere fancy to 
me may be thorough reality to my brother or sister. I have 
known instances in which strongminded persons in other respects 
could not come near Heliotropes, Mignonette, Jonquils, or even 
the sweet Daphnes. Generally speaking, all strong-scented plants 
should be excluded from bed-rooms, especially at night, if the at¬ 
mosphere is at all close. Beauty in form and colour should be more 
attended to than scent. Snowdrops, Crocuses, Tulips, Myrtles, 
and cut-leaved Geraniums, &c., in winter; Myrtles, Geraniums, 
Calceolarias, Euchsias, Balsams, &c., in summer, would furnish a 
plentiful supply, and many other plants that had no strong scent, 
but which were very beautiful. In cut flowers the vases might 
be arranged differently, so that the sweet-smelling and strong- 
scented might be removed at night. 
To corroborate such ideas previously urged at greater length, 
allow me to insert a short extract from a small, but one of the 
most practical and useful books I ever read—“ Notes on Nursing, 
by Florence Nightingale.” No higher authority on such a sub¬ 
ject it would be possible to have. The price of the book is not 
mentioned ; but it is published by Harrison, of Pall Mall. Were 
its eighty pages circulated largely in a cheap form it would do a 
vast deal of good, and place the country, if possible, under a still 
larger debt of gratitude to the strongminded amiable authoress, 
whose name will ever be associated with all that is truly noble, 
heroic, and humane. At page 33, when speaking of variety as a 
means of recovery, she says, “ The effects in sickness of beautiful 
object s, of variety of objects, and especially of brilliancy of colour, 
are hardly at all appreciated.I have seen in fevers (and 
felt when I was in a fever myself), the most acute sufferings 
produced from the patient not being able to see out of window 
and the knots in the wood being the only view. I shall never 
forget the rapture of fever-patients over a bunch of bright- 
coloured flowers. I remember (in my own case) a nosegay of 
wild flowers being sent me, and from that moment recovery 
becoming more rapid. People say the effect is only on the mind : 
it is no such thing, the effect is on the body too. Little as we 
know about the way in which we are affected by form and light 
we do know this, that they have an actual physical effect. 
The folly and ignorance which reign too often supreme over the 
sick-room cannot be better exemplified than by this: While the 
nurse will leave the patient stewing in a corrupting atmosphere, 
the best ingredient of which is carbonic acid, sho will deny him, 
on the plea of unhealthiness, a glass of cut flowers or a growing 
plant. Now no one ever saw “overcrowding” by plants in a 
room or ward, and the carbonic acid they give off at night 
w-ould not poison a fly—nay, in overcrowded rooms they actually 
absorb carbonic acid and give off oxygen. Cut flowers also 
decompose water and produce oxygen gas. It is true there are 
certain flowers—Lilies, for example—the smell of wliich is said 
to depress the nervous system. These are easily known and can 
be avoided.” 
Let us then hear no more of the danger of beautiful flowers, or 
plants, in bed-rooms or sick-rooms, if attended to as they ought 
to be. The last clause I put in italics advisedly, for the whole 
pith of the matter lies here. If they are neglected, as they fre¬ 
quently are, then I would join heart and hand with our friend 
Knowall, and make a clear riddance of them. 
I have not seldom met with instances in which what would 
otherwise have been a source of elevated pleasure, was turned into 
a thorough nuisance. For instance : Here is a vase of cut flowers 
on the table, the tops of which are not absolutely unsightly, and 
yet the aroma from the vessel could scarcely be equalled by a cart¬ 
load of hot-fermenting horsedung. The sprigs have stood in the 
same water eight or ten days, and the pieces of plants have never 
been removed all that time ; and the consequence is, that most of 
what is in the water, and the water itself, arc a mass of corrupting 
unwholesomeness. I have known ladies keep a bunch of cut 
flowers in prime order for six weeks ; but every day fresh water 
was given, and with a sharp knife a small piece was cut off the 
end of each sprig-stalk, so that the water had a fresh piece to act 
upon, and thus not one stalk was ever allowed to go with a decay¬ 
ing end into the water. Something of this must be done, if a jug 
of cut flowers is to have no associations but the cheering and the 
| invigorating. 
j Again : We go into a chamber where an old friend is confined 
to bed by illness. His few pet plants in the window are to him 
now a source of sorrowing regret. From his bed he can see the 
yellow leaves hanging on them. He knows by the curled leaves that 
insects arc making them their feeding-ground, and all for want 
of the air and attention that would have been good for him as 
well as for them. Anything but kind attention was never thought 
of, yet downright cruelty was inflicted. Personal suffering and 
confinement arc bad enough, but these are greatly aggravated 
when we see or know that some favourite objects arc neglected 
when we cannot attend to them ourselves. No doubt the desire 
not to disturb the invalid was the only reason why even dust 
was allowed to collect undisturbed on window-panes, window- 
curtains, window-sill, and the leaves of what were once pretty, 
flourishing plants. It never crossed the thinking, that what wa 3 
so hurtful to the plants could not be very invigorating to 
the patient. The condition of a plant in such a room will tell 
a true talc as to right or wrong management, if we only listen to 
what it clearly says to us. Ah! I see you have bent your ear 
to catch their gentle utterances, and I know exactly what you 
will do. You will not be a jot less kind, not a whit less anxious 
not to disturb ; but, choosing your time, you will quietly remove 
that dusty window-curtain, to part with its dust elsewhere. You 
will take the plants and all their appurtenances to the kitchen or 
some out-house, and there, after removing all the dust you can 
by shaking and brushing with a soft brush, you will place a cloth 
firmly on the top of the pot, to prevent the earth coming out, or 
water getting in, and placing one hand firmly across it, you will 
draw the head of the plant several times through a pail or tub 
of w'ater, at a temperature at from 50° to GO’. Then draw a 
sponge over the leaves of each plant, and when all are gone over 
and every bit of yellow leaf removed, draw the head a second 
time through clean water, and you will be gratified to notice how 
clean and nice they look. Then give the pots and the saucers a 
scrub to make them all look nice, and allow the plants to stand 
until the pots and leaves have got dry again. Meanwhile, get 
the dust from the windows with a damp cloth, and then rub the 
panes of glass afterwards with a dry one ; and by the time that 
is done the plants will be so dry as to retain no marks of their 
repeated bathings but their fresh clean appearance. To keep 
them healthy afterwards, a little of the same prpeess may be 
required ; but, chiefly, opportunities should be taken when the 
room is hot enough to give air by the window, and yet prevent 
draught by shutting the door. The whole may be done hi less 
time than I have written this paragraph ; and you will be repaid 
with a look of satisfaction and pleasure, such as all your previous 
care and medicine-giving never could elicit. In such cases such 
little matters arc anything but trifles. 
Once more, even at the risk of Miss Know-all telling me that 
all I have said and am saying is in her favour. Some years ago 
I found myself, by invitation, one of a very pleasant social even¬ 
ing party. The fact of having something to do with flowers 
constituted a link of sympathy between myself and the mistress 
of the establishment. With little space to indulge the feeling, 
there was a thorough enthusiasm for everything of a plant nature 
that was at all beautiful. Some people find great difficulty in 
filling their flower garden ; but in the case of this lady the diffi¬ 
culty was to find a place for a fresh acquisition. Inside it was 
the same as- respects pot plants—kitchen windows, parlour win¬ 
dows, bed-room window's, all were full; and generally, even in 
winter, the appearance of the plants would have been no disgrace 
to a professional. If a plant got unsightly, or touched with 
frost, the lady either doctored it and made it all right, or it was 
sent adrift, or put into the hospital until it was lit to be seen 
