100 
■Kb JUaSies S?loral fiaJknei rni3 SHctoriml Home 
lORlJlUTtlOH. 
Ipum} Jlrprirurrs. 
FLOWER-STANDS, Etc. 
I love flowers, and I want every one to love them. 
Indeed, it provokes me very much to hear any one 
say they can’t make them grow. 1 think “ where 
there’s a will there is a way.” I have flowers in five 
different rooms; and those I want to rest for the 
coming season I put in the cellar when the Frost 
King comes. At my northeast window in my bedroom 
I have a flower-stand of my own invention. I have 
used it for four winters, with the greatest success. 
It was an old side table of our grandmother’s. The 
top was broken off; so I had a top put on it, 5 inches 
deep, 23 inches wide, and 43 inches long, with per¬ 
forated holes in the bottom. Put casters on the legs, 
so I can move it eas¬ 
ily. I fill the top or 
box with clean river- 
sand, mixed with a lit¬ 
tle charcoal dust. In 
this I sink my pots 
that I prepared in Au¬ 
gust for winter bloom¬ 
ing. In the center I 
have a Fuchsia, which 
is two years old. It is 
47 inches high (I cut it 
down last fall one foot). 
It will bloom next 
month. Last year it 
had 53 blossoms on it. 
I give it a drink of 
rust-water once in a 
while. Ammonia wa¬ 
ter is good, too—three 
drops to a pint. Now, 
around this Fuchsia I 
have some Geraniums, 
pink,white, and scarlet 
(Happy Thought), and 
several different kinds 
of Double Geraniums. These I give a drink of hen- 
manure water once a week. It must be very weak. 
Now in the next room, which is my nursery, I have 
plants at two windows. At the southwest window I 
have three shelves full of 6-inch pots of Geraniums, 
Yincas, Oxalis, Morning Glories, Madeira Yines; 
and a hanging-basket above them, filled with Scotch 
Ivy, forms a pretty curtain. At the opposite window 
(northeast) I keep my Smilax and Parlor Ivy. I 
have a frame in the form of a cross covered with 
the Ivy, which was very pretty for Easter decoration. 
The next room is our bath-room, where we have hot 
and cold water. I keep an old watering-can filled 
with strong manure-water, from which I pour a little 
in my small sprinkler and mix it with tepid water. 
Every Friday, after our general sweeping, I take a 
large sprinkling-can and wash all the dust off. The 
great secret of flower-growing i3 to keep them free 
of dust. Down-stairs, in our sitting-room, which 
also has a northeast window, I have a lovely window- 
garden. I will try to describe it. The window is 
long, reaching down to the floor. Hanging from the 
top is a fish-globe, from which is growing and 
going in every direction two Sweet Potato 
vines; a red and white one. I start them in July. I 
have a small earthen castle in the center of the globe 
(a stone would do). On this I lay my potatoes, put 
in the water, a little charcoal-dust, and fill up with 
cistern-water. The water must not touch the potatoes, 
but nearly. In time little tiny roots will fill the globe, 
and beautiful vines will run to a great length, and 
every one will ask: “ Where did you get that pretty 
vine?” The red potato will have a red stem, while 
the yellow one will have a light green. The contrast 
is pretty. Now, on either side below this globe I 
have iron brackets, two on each side of the window. 
On one I have Ivy, one Madeira Vine; the other two 
Maurandya. These run all over the upper sash and 
only made this for me. He made one for his wife 
during the year 1850. The next window is in our 
back parlor. It is another southwest window, but 
only gets the afternoon sun. I keep my Caetis, Aloes, 
Night-blooming Jessamine, and one basket of differ¬ 
ent kinds of Begonias. I have another curtain of 
Madeira Yines at the top of this window. We have 
regular heat all the time in our rooms, and I give 
them fresh air on every pleasant day, by lowering the 
sash a little for a few minutes. I have tried this win¬ 
dow-gardening for five winters, with the greatest suc¬ 
cess, and find that giving them stimulant once a 
week and keeping them free from dust are the two 
great secrets in making them grow. And starting 
them in August is another secret to have winter 
bloom. You cannot expect your summer plants, 
that have bloomed all the season, to continue to 
bloom. They need rest. So start your cuttings the 
last of August. 
Aunt Jen. 
THE TROPICS. 
AN ENGLISH VILLA FLOWER-GARDEN. 
form a lovely curtain. On the floor I have a low 
stand of Hyacinths, Heliotrope, Daisies, Roses, Cal- 
las, and a Begonia in bloom. I try to keep all at this 
window in bloom, because it looks pretty and cheer¬ 
ful from the street. The room opening from this is 
our dining-room. In this, at the northeast window, 
I have a Centennial flower-stand (I tried to draw 
jou a picture of it. Was afraid you would laugh at it, 
so burned it up), made of old gas-pipe. Crossing at 
the top, it forms an arch, while the cup or bracket at 
the top, where the arch meets, is a bell, in which I 
set my large Aloe. On each side of these arches are 
brackets, on which I have pots of Tom Thumb Ferns, 
Kenilworth Ivy, Wandering Jew. The bottom of 
the stand is lined with zinc and filled with sand, in 
which I set my plants. All shade-loving plants I 
keep here. I have Martin’s casters on the bottom of 
the stand, so I can move it easily. The stand is six 
feet high. If any one would like one, I can have one 
made for five dollars, as the old man who makes them 
During his explora¬ 
tions in tropical Amer¬ 
ica Agassiz counted 
one hundred and sev¬ 
enteen different kinds 
of wood (many of them 
fitted for the finest 
cabinet work) growing 
within the space of 
half a mile square. He 
spoke of the blossoms 
as being magnificent 
beyond imagination. 
Splendid white, yel¬ 
low, and red clusters 
mingled with flowers 
of humbler and duller 
hue. Here were deli- 
catelyfeathered leaves, 
there were narrow 
ones, and yonder 
broad. Here, again, were pointed ones; there were 
obtuse; further, fleshy and lustrous foliage. 
In the lowlands the forests are gloomy. Damp, 
cool, odorous arches rear heavenward. Under these 
there is no moss, no creeping plant. Only mush¬ 
rooms spring from the humid soil. When the rainy 
season comes on, thick fogs encircle and penetrate 
these forests. No bird nor butterfly comes forth. 
There are hoarse croakings of monster toads and 
frogs, and the roaring, grunting, and snorting of 
wild animals; while the stentor monkey sends out 
his distressful howls. 
Oh! such a change as comes over the late scorched, 
barren deserts. Beautiful palms wave their green, 
plumey tops; richly-scented flowers burst to their 
hearts’ centers, and shake out of their velvet cups rai e 
incense offerings to their Creator; gorgeous birds 
pour through the trees like strings of jewels; and with 
the dawn of'tropical mornirig the air vibrates with 
the joyous notes of animate Nature. 
