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VERBENAS. 
No plant excels the Verbena for planting, either in 
masses or bedding. Its bright colors contrast finely 
with the green grass of the lawn. It is a universal 
favorite with all flower lovers. Indeed, no lawn or 
flower-garden is complete without its bed of Verbenas. 
They are beautiful both in foliage and flower. Al¬ 
though they are but half hardy perennials, they bloom 
the first season. And they are so easily grown. The 
seed falling on the ground, will, if not picked up by 
the little birds, remain unimpaired through the entire 
winter, coming up quite thickly the following spring. 
I get the earliest and strongest plants from self-sown 
seed ; but I always save seed from selected colors, 
as they range in colors from the brightest red, and 
a dark blue and purple, to a pure white ; and then 
we have them with such a variety of markings. 
Two years ago I procured a variety of striped 
Verbena plants ; and from a particularly choice 
one, I saved the seed for the next year’s planting, 
and from those seed I had quite a variety. Some 
were self-colored, and some were striped, and 
some were speckled and mottled in various ways. 
Some plants would have a truss all of a color and 
another one with a single floweret of another color 
in the same truss. The contrast was quite pleas¬ 
ing. While some are delightfully fragrant, others 
are entirely devoid of any fragrance whatever. I 
find the light colored ones the most fragrant. 
The original plant from which the seed was 
saved, was white, striped with red. The Verbena 
has some enemies. The aphis or green lice some¬ 
times attack it, and there is a kind of white lice 
that work on the roots, sometimes causing the 
plant to wither and die. For the first named 
pest, I make use of the dirty suds in washing. 
Give them a good showering in the evening. It 
not only rids the plants of the pest, hut it is ben¬ 
eficial in the growth of the Verbena. For the 
ones on the roots a preventive is a little lime or 
wood ashes mixed in the soil before setting the 
plants, as they are somewhat hard to get rid of 
after planting. Occasionally there will he a plant 
diseased, which can always he told by its puny 
growth. Better pull it up and give the vigorous 
ones more room. 
The Verbena delights in the bright sunshine. 
And I have better success with it of a dry season than 
almost any other bedding plants unless it is the Portu- 
lacas. Like Purslane, it will flourish wet or dry. The 
Verbena does best in a sandy soil. I mix one-fourth 
sand, an equal amount of well rotted hot-bed manure 
and soil from the woods, or sods rotted. The ground 
should he spaded one foot deep and then set the plants 
two feet apart. Keep the ground loose and 
peg down the straggling shoots, which will 
cause them to root at the joints where they 
come in contact with the soil, and the bed 
will soon become a perfect mat of bloom. 
And the more you pluck of the flowers, the 
more they bloom. 
We have one kind of Verbena that is en¬ 
tirely hardy here with us, in latitude thirty ■ 
nine degrees north. It Is called Verbena 
Montana in the florists’ catalogues. Young 
plants of it will bloom all the summer. The 
older ones bloom earlier. They bloom along 
with the Tulips. The color is a red, chang¬ 
ing to a rosy purple. The foliage is of a 
lighter green than the tender varieties. It is 
said to be a native of the Rocky Mountains. 
I don’t know of more than the one kind that 
is hardy here. I don’t know whether the 
tender kinds will mix with the hardy one. 
I have grown in the same bed, side by side 
with each other, the two kinds, and saved 
seed from both, hut never could get hut the 
one color. 
The Verbena, although a favorite, is not 
a good house plant in an ordinary dwelling. 
It is a little “ miffy ” about being kept in the 
heated atmosphere of a room. 
The Verbena is propagated either by layering, 
rooting in a saucer of wet sand, or from fresh slips in 
water. I have grown them frequently from slips in 
bouquets. I have seen them grown as basket plants, 
and as pot plants, but they are not at home outside of 
a bod or mound, where they can roam at will. 
[Written specially for the Ladies’ Floral Cabinet.] 
By Augusta Larned. 
CHAPTER XI. 
“ What God hath joined let not man put asunder.” 
“She’s coming to,” said the man in a half whisper, as he 
bent down over the unconscious burden on the earth. 
“ Look to the dorg, Ben. If he hadn’t howled so dis¬ 
tressed like, we might ha’ passed her by on the road.” 
The speaker stripped off his miner’s jacket, and rolled it 
in a bundle to support the girl’s head. 
Group op Window Plants. 
“ Run down to yon spring under the edge of the hill,” 
again addressing the lad, “ and fetch some water in yer 
cap. I wish we had a drop o’ whiskey to put in it; 
’twould bring her to quicker nor anything.” 
The boy, who was no other than Sharp Ben, ran down 
the hill like a squirrel, and was back again in a moment 
with his can half full of water. 
A Hall Window. 
“ She’s a comely, pale young thing,” said the man in a 
not unpitying tone, though his voice was rough, “ and her 
clothes shows she comes of good folks. I wqnder what 
took her out wandering in the night time.” 
“There ! she’s give a big sigh,” said Ben, as he helped 
sprinkle the water with a vigorous hand. “ When I tuk a 
close squint I knowd that dorg, and now I know the young 
’ooman. She’s the young ’ooman as corn’d up to the mine 
with the new missis, old Boss’s darter. I seed her 
a-ridin’ in the coach, and first I disremembered her yaller 
hair.” 
“Hoot!” said the man, drawing himself up straight 
with astonishment. “ That would be a nice fix if you’re 
dead shore you’ve seen her with the missis. Summats 
gone wrong at the big house. She’s out o’ her head, poor 
thing, for she looks weakly, and they’ll be sore perplexed 
to know what has happened. You’re spry in the heels, 
Ben; and if you take the dorg and carry the news to the 
young missis, belike she’ll warm your pocket with sum- 
mat handsome. But lend a hand first, Ben, to get the 
gall into the cart.” 
Virginie opened her bewildered and unseeing eyes. 
“ Come, miss,” said he in an encouraging tone of 
voice, “you’re a bit faintish, but bear up now, and 
we’ll lift you into the cart.” 
She gazed at him with woeful, blank, blue eyes, 
devoid of any sign of consciousness, though she did 
feebly strive to struggle up into a sitting posture, 
and was lifted into the cart that stood near, by the 
man and boy. They moved the cans of explosive 
material which they had brought up from below for 
blasting the new works, into the farthest comer, and 
laying the sick girl on a horse-blanket, placed the 
folded jacket under her head. The man was deliber¬ 
ate in his movements. He took out a black cutty 
pipe and proceeded to fill it. 
“ Here’s a bag,” simg out Ben, who had been ex¬ 
ploring the bushes, “and here’s the gall’s hat." 
“ Gie me the hat,” returned the man, reaching 
down for it from where he was perched; “ you take 
the bag back to the big house. It’s all you want to 
prove you true. I’ve a bit of twine here in my 
breeches pocket. You can make a noose round yon 
dorg’s neck, so that he don’t give you the slip. Tell 
the missis she’ll find the young ’ooman at Mary 
Smithers’s.” 
This was indeed Mary Smithers’s husband, a reti¬ 
cent man and slow of speech. 
Old Hector had been sitting on his haunches look¬ 
ing with sad and solemn eye at the proceedings just 
narrated. When Ben tried to put the string around 
his neck, he haughtily refused the indignity, but, as 
if he knew what belonged to a reasonable being, 
turned and followed the boy down the mountain, 
There was a sharp climb over the brow, and then a 
rough and broken descent of a mile, down which the 
cart slowly jolted. Smitbers puffed away at his pipe, 
turning now and then to glance at the motionless form 
thatlay as still and pale as a corpse, though even under 
the gray shawl he could detect a slight heaving of the 
chest. The day was joyless, and gray, and very still. 
“ Fixing for a snowstorm,” thought Bob, as he puffed 
away at his pipe and let the lean cart horse scramble in Ms 
own fashion over the rugged ground. 
When the slow vehicle did at last approach the hamlet 
Bob made a short circuit by a side lane in order to enter 
the little zig-zag street of miners’ cabins without 
attracting all the eyes in the place. But the pre¬ 
caution was needless, for the street was empty. 
Nearly every door stood open, and a few hens 
were picking about, but men, women, and chil¬ 
dren had all run to the mine. Bob could see the 
crowd huddled about the shaft’s mouth, and at 
once divined disaster and death. 
“ Belike someun’s tumbled down the pit,” 
he thought, “ or the old south gallery has caved. 
There’s been danger ever since the digging com¬ 
menced, and ingineer said a man’s foot might 
bring down the timber work.” But Bob was a 
phlegmatic man, and the suspicion that the tim- 
berwork of the abandoned gallery had fallen 
and buried a dozen of Ms comrades did not 
quicken his motions. He had stopped the cart 
in front of his own cottage, which was tidier 
than the rest, as could be seen through the 
open door, which afforded a good view of the 
•interior. There was a high bed made up with a 
neat patched quilt, and white pillows; at the 
foot stood the empty cradle which his wife could 
not yet put away out of her sight. Bob let 
down the end piece of his cart, and, taking the 
unconscious girl in his arms, laid her down 
gently on the bed, and drew the quilt over her. 
Then he softly shut the door, and, taking his 
horse by the head, led him over toward the 
group of people at the works. The women, 
with children clinging to them, were vociferating and 
talking loud, especially one little, wiry, black-eyed 
woman with a lame boy in her arms, who had worked 
her way to the inner circle. The men stood mainly 
sullen and silent. They were clad in their grimy working 
clothes, some of them with lamps in their caps, and picks 
in their hands. The young engineer was talking to one or 
two of the men apart from the others. Unfortunately, 
