lie fellies' Moral feaCtaet ami Ptctorral. Home sBomjiaiiioii, 
MY VERANDA. 
Many have handsome lawns, dotted here and there 
with clumps of blooming shrubbery, and gay parterres 
of flowers. Many have their conservatories, filled 
with rare and tender exotics, rich in the hues and per¬ 
fumes of every clime ; and others have their more un¬ 
pretending flower gardens ; but I have only my Ver- 
anda, long and sunny, for my treasures. My beauti¬ 
ful flowers! I first began with boxes of Clematis at 
the corner pillars. Soon it twined around them and 
ran along the plates above, falling here and there in 
graceful festoons. At the interme¬ 
diate pillars I added boxes of Ma¬ 
deira vine and the delicate feathery 
Cypress, which was fresh laden 
after every shower, with its bright 
tube-shaped flowers; contrasting 
beautifully with the white plume- 
like blossoms of the Madeira vine. 
Between the pillars in front and at 
the ends were suspended hanging- 
baskets, four in number, filled with 
drooping Mosses, Tradescantia, and 
blooming Petunias) and ^ Ivy and 
Maurandia, which ran up the wires. 
Above one I hung a large wire hoop, 
around which the Ivy twined again 
and again, making a beautiful green 
wreath. A branch from the Ma¬ 
deira vine grow in with it, and how 
pretty were its white tassels among 
the green Ivy leaves. 
On the floor the intervening 
spaces were filled up with boxes of 
Mosses, bright Port’nlaca (the pride 
and possessions of my little girls), 
and tubs of bulbous and other 
plants. In one grew a luxuriant 
Oleander; around it I planted a few 
slips of the Tradescantia, which 
soon grew over the sides and covered 
the tub. Next co the Oleander was 
an inner circle of Pansies which, 
all summer, were a mass of bright 
and varied bloom. Thus, my Ole¬ 
ander seemed to grow up from a 
green flowery mound instead of an 
unsightly tub. Next to it stood a 
bright colored Gladiolus; and this 
was fringed with the silvery Dusty 
Miller, which filled and hung over the 
tub; so that, when the Gladiolus 
passed away, I still had something- 
green and pretty loft. And there, on 
a pretty frame of my husband’s 
make, bright in the morning sun¬ 
shine, was the Maurandia, covered 
pink and purple blooms. It has grown up and caught 
in with the other vines, and though so late, it waves 
in the breeze and blooms still. Its delicate sprays 
float about the bird cage, and I think it sings the mer¬ 
rier swaying among them. But the pride of my 
Veranda stood on the western front, a Japan Lily, 
large in size, both delicate and gorgeous in color, 
and rich and rare in perfume, as one from the Eastern 
clime should be. It was the admiration of all be¬ 
holders—of every passer-by. My only regret was to see 
it fade away; but there were the bright Petunias 
around it, ready to bloom in its place, as modest and 
For Trellises I used branches of the Sweet Gum 
Tree at the corner pillars. In one upright branch, 
having forked arms, my daughter set a tiny tub of 
Sasafragia, with Ivy at the handles. How beautiful it 
grew, and decorated the angles on each side of the 
pillar! A friend from the city was delighted with this— 
our beautiful rustic work ! For the Cypress nothing 
is prettier than branches of the Dogwood, peeled off, 
and about two inches of the twigs left on when cut; 
this leaves little forks at regular spaces. By. placing 
four of these at the corners of a box they will naturally 
come to a point at the top, and thus make a pretty 
pyramid of any desired height; and one can imagine 
the effect when covered with Cypress. I also used 
them as rods to support my pot plants, and found 
them pretty and serviceable. 
And now I would feel fully re¬ 
warded for having penned these 
lines if I could know that I had en¬ 
couraged or assisted any of my sister- 
lovers of flowers surrounded with 
difficulties like mine, attendant upon 
living in a large enclosure that must 
be grazed for the benefit of the 
grass. As I am looking forward to 
having a window garden, I hope to 
see an instructive article on that 
subject giving some one’s own prac¬ 
tical experience. C. 
Oleander. —Last fall I procured a 
slip of Oleander, and was told it 
would not blossom until it was two 
or three years old; it is not a year 
old yet and it has budded. I have a 
Melon Cactus that is about one foot 
high, have kept the sSxiall ones off, 
and it is quite a curiosity. It first 
grew large, and then it stretched 
itself up long and slim ; then it grew 
fiat and large around, and now 
I tell them it is three-story high. I 
have a Thunbergia that, has been 
in bloom all summer; it is in a. box; 
would like to know if it will do well 
in the house this winter. I am a 
great friend to running vines and 
would like to keep this one. I have 
six kinds of Fuchsias, also six kinds 
of Cactus, all looking finely. My 
flowers in the garden are a blaze of 
glory. F. L. D. 
Calla Lily I have a beautiful 
Calla with one large white flower and 
a yellow stem in the centre; and my 
boy Solomon, about fourteen years 
old, who thinks he knows everything, 
says that the white flower is no 
flower at all. Now, what is the 
truth of the matter? Mrs. J. E. B. 
Solomon is correct. A flower consists generally of 
a calyx (the outer circle of leaves, each of which is 
called a sepal); next, the inner circle of petals or leaves 
together forming the corolla; then a set of stamens; 
and lastly, in the centre, one or more pistils. In a 
large flower like a Tiger Lily the pistil and stamens 
are very distinctly seen. These two, the pistil and 
stamens, are the essential organs of the flower, and in 
the Calla many sets of them will be found clustered 
upon the central stem; or, as described by high au¬ 
thority, “its large spatlieis pure white, surrounding a 
spadix which is colored deeply yellow by its autherifer- 
ous flowers.” 
more lasting successors. So they were around my Tube¬ 
rose, blooming in delicate shades beneath it, while the 
pure,fragrant, lily-like blooms were above my own head. 
Of all my flowers, I loved it best; so delicate, so pure ! 
On this same end of the Veranda, against the wall, 
between the parlor windows, stands my flower stand, 
a half circle, filled with pots of Geraniums, Pinks, 
Fusehias, Heliotropes, Citradoras, Aloysias, Petunias, 
Ferns, Verbenas, etc. On the top, a single shelf, is a 
green pot of Tradescantia which hangs around and 
covers the second shelf, thus protecting the smaller 
and more delicate flowers. 
Now, that I have said so much about my flowers, I 
must tell something of my mode of treatment: In the 
spring I found a rich spot in the garden where the 
French Cottage Orne. 
with its delicate 
trunk of a tree and some other refuse had been burned. 
The earth from this 1 took up, with the bits of coal 
through it, and used it for the bottom of my pots and 
tubs; then I procured rich, loose earth that had been 
thrown up from the spring branch on either side, in¬ 
termixing more or less river sand with it. For a top 
dressing I used light, well decayed leaf mold. As the 
dry, hot season came on I filled up, or rather mulched, 
all my pots, tubs, boxes, etc., with light, loose soil 
filled with half decayed leaves from the woods, and 
watered them freely every evening after sunset. Every¬ 
thing grew and flourished, andhny Veranda was the 
admiration of my friends and visitors. 
