Earai iSuGinet ami Pictorial Home sKomjmmam 
part of the winter the leaves were so large (twelve 
and fourteen inches long), and the whole plant was so 
luxuriant, I began to fear my window garden would 
he all Calla. How do I manage it? I give it a deep 
layer of new, rich earth in the autumn; keep the 
saucer nearly full of water, which I pour in on the top 
every morning, usually as warm as I can hear my 
finger in. Now and then it gets a drink of a mixture 
concocted in the hen-house; hut water is all it asks, if 
First impressions are very strong; and although 
many years have passed since the time I am about to 
recall, yet it seems hut as yesterday. * 
I had been sent to the house of a distant neighbor 
with some message which required me to wait for a 
while. A daughter of the house invited me to go and 
see her garden. Probably its whole extent was less 
than twelve square feet; hut such a gorgeous array of 
Four-o’clocks, Marigolds, Bachelors’ Buttons, and 
Bagged Sailors; and all belonging to a little girl only 
a year or two older than me. It was splendid. I could 
hardly wait till I reached home to ask the good father 
for just such a garden; and shall I ever forget the dis¬ 
appointment when I realized it was too late to have 
such a beauty for myself that year. But the promise 
of a nicely prepared bed early the next spring, and 
seeds to plant, finally consoled me till once more 
“the voice of the turtle was heard in the land.” From 
that year to this I think my plot of ground has never 
failed me; and one little corner is 
ever held sacred for the sweet Four- 
o’clock, which so delighted me that 
well-remembered summer afternoon. 
To-day, as I look over my window 
garden, I find it presents quite a dif¬ 
ferent appearance from my first effort 
in that kind of gardening. That 
early collection was composed of four 
plants-—a Bose, a Pink, a Chrys- 
anthenum, and a Cactus. The last 
was to bloom—next year. Alas! 
how long the years were then; and as 
my knowledge of astrouomy was rather crude, I used 
to fancy, judging from the Cactus, that a year in the 
tropics was quite a lifetime. 
Let me point out to you a few of my pets. First 
my Calla; a noble plant, full three feet high; one 
blossom, you perceive, is scarcely unfolded, yet another 
bud is already peeping forth. Last year it gave me just 
such a lavish display of bloom; and really the latter 
Arbor Over G-ate or Walk. 
it is given a good, rich nest at first. Of course, I 
wash the leaves now and then, for I have no fancy for 
harboring insects on those massive beauties. Here you 
perceive my Bouvardia. It has been my ewe lamb for 
a long time, as I never have success in raising slips. 
In the December number of the Cabinet I found 
An Umbraculum. 
directions for propagating it by root cuttings, and next 
spring I intend to devote a portion of its tendrils to 
that purpose. This large specimen has been in con¬ 
stant bloom since last July. It rested in a light cellar 
the previous winter, and the pot M r as plunged in the 
border early in June. When it was brought into the 
house in October, it was first put in a cool room for a 
few weeks, then placed in the window; not a bud suf¬ 
fered, and new blooms have continued to form ever 
since. I am fond of stealing from the phosphate bar¬ 
rel, and digging a spoonful or so about the tops of my 
flower-pots now and then, which may account for the 
good behavior of Bouvardia. It is very large, I 
know; but it is four years old, and is in an extra size 
pot, where I intend it shall remain for twelve months 
more, at least. My Tree Mignonette I think will never 
stop blooming; certainly, I hope not. And it is such 
a sturdy little fellow, asking so few favors, but always 
so proud of its first pruning, so determined to do its 
part, and never for a minute be mistaken for its more 
unfortunate brethren, who have run to slender stems 
and are hanging languidly over this large pot beyond. 
This shelf of Geraniums just bursting into bud, will 
soon, I trust, present quite a different appearance from 
the green border they now show. I like small pots 
for the Zonales, for I am quite sure I get bettor 
blooms. I always, however, have my centre one 
large, then with a good growth of wood, I have a 
fine lot of slips ready to cut off in March. From this 
“General Grant” I expect great things, judging from 
the mother plant, of which it was a slip last fall. That 
was taken from the ground the previous autumn, put 
in a medium sized pot, and came into bloom in Feb¬ 
ruary. It did well until transplanted to the garden in 
June (I seldom dare to put my plants out .till June 
1st). Of course, it had some pruning, and dropped 
most of its leaves; but it burst forth almost instantly, 
and was in bloom as soon as some of the fresh cutt ings. 
When the heavy frosts of autumn came it was one 
great scarlet bouquet. And these are my Boses. Ah, 
me; such trouble as my Boses give. I consider each 
one of these buds as worth its weight in gold. One 
day I find them alive with vermin; a bath of soap¬ 
suds, and the brightest eyes can’t find a single green 
fly left. Two days more, and behold an army of them. 
Next a drenching in tobacco water, and the same dis¬ 
appearance takes place, while I look with satisfaction 
on the little green bodies clinging to the sponge and 
floating in the basin. Victory this time sure. A few 
days more and the mother says: “I think you have 
overlooked these Boses; they seem covered with in¬ 
sects.” This time perhaps a pan of coals appears; 
and, disgusted with defeat, the whole room is given up 
to tobacco smoke. In the course of a few hours I open 
the door, and, dust-pan in hand, brush up the victims, 
convinced I am conqueror for two weeks, at least; but 
after that where do those green flies come from ? 
And now I will pick you a little bouquet. This 
white Carnation, and La Purite beside it, with a cluster 
Bose Geranium leaves, a branch of 
Sweet Alyssum, and a spray of my 
favorite Mignonette; this Heliotrope, 
Bouvardia, a bud each of Safrano and 
Agrippina, a Lantana and a branch 
of Begonia. 
Before you leave, however, I should 
like to know the mystery of this Cobea 
Scandens Variegata. It was crowded 
almost to death in a large garden 
basket during the summer, but in 
November was taken up and potted 
in this six-inch pot. After a few 
weeks, as it looked badly, I cut it down three-fourths, 
to within six inches of the earth. It has pushed out 
one little branch, which has wound its tendrils round 
the top of the old stem, and there it rests, or rather 
fades. J- Victor. 
Removal. —Office of Ladies’ Floral Cabinet 
will be removed, May 1, to 46 Beekman street. 
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