• ®fie ^Wiles’ Stored KWinet an3 JHctoiml Home fiompmioii 
Ipord imtiriittitmtA 
MY BEAU IDEAL REALIZED. 
“ There's a magical isle up the River Time, 
Where the softest of airs are playing; 
There’s a cloudless sky and a tropical clime, 
And a voice as sweet as a vesper chime. 
And the Junes with the roses staying.” 
During my summer wanderings in t.lie mountains of 
Virginia I happened to light, upon, or rather within, a 
regal greenhouse.; I would say a Zenobian green¬ 
house, but. that I dare say it was warm enough in 
Palmyra to dispense with a conservatory, and an old- 
fashioned flower garden would answer every purpose. 
But, however that may be, I derived so much genuine 
pleasure from this one that. I feel impelled to describe 
it to my Cabinet sisters. 
I went to visit it very often—thought I should like to 
live in it, and my farewell visit can never be effaced 
from memory’s page ; it is written in illuminated text. 
It was a bright, crisp, sparkling evening early in Oc¬ 
tober ; the breeze just whispered of the coming frost, 
when I started for a three-mile walk to say good-bye 
to this radiant home of the flowers, where Titania 
might spend her winters and never know aught of the 
bleakness without, save for the fleecy down which 
Nature sees fit to wrap about her then, as a kind of 
Chinese mourning for the death of the flowers. The 
entrance was through a small brick house where a 
vestal fire is sustained, supplying the warmth which is 
so sadly wanting in Sol’s wintry smiles. Then, passing 
through the vestibule, we enter the “ crystal palace” 
itself through a doorway arched and framed in with 
the waxen leaves of the Hoya, nearly the whole side 
of the wall being covered with a tracery of leaves and 
brauches as with some rare tapestry. The green¬ 
house contained three divisions, similar to those usually 
seen at the florists’. This one is in charge of an Eng¬ 
lish gardener, under whose touch everything seems 
to grow and blossom in utmost profusion, as if grate¬ 
ful for his care and thorough knowledge of their wants. 
All down the centre division were columns entwined 
by various graceful vines, among which the Cissus 
discolor was most prominent and beautiful. At one 
end a huge Caladium Esculentum reared its lofty 
leaves the size of a sun umbrella, one actually meas¬ 
uring forty-four by thirty-four inches. The Torrenia, 
with its shaded purple blossoms and delicate foliage, 
formed a fringe-like bordering aided by that inimitable 
trailer Cobsea scandeus variegata, while the Gerani¬ 
ums, Abutilons, Tuberoses, Dracaenas, Fuchsias, Chi¬ 
nese Primroses and Begonias mingled in rich, yet un¬ 
crowded, luxuriance; among the last-named the Sem- 
perflorens is most valuable, for it is truly named aud 
is never without its clusters of gay little red blossoms. 
Nor were the Callas wanting in readiness to add their 
stately grace to the beauteous sisterhood—they were 
present, 
“ Unfolding from the earth's embrace, 
Fair pages where I meekly trace 
A promise sure/ 1 
The Fuchsias were immense, being the .size of shell 
roses, and their corollas of rich, velvety purple resting 
lovingly against the crimson sepals, could only be 
equalled in glory by another member of the same 
family, the Lustre. This Fuchsia, I was told, had 
been blooming in the same lavish manner, dozens of 
bells to every branch, ever -since- last December; the 
wax-like purity of its snowy sepals, with the faintest 
suspicion of a glow upon them as if it were reflected 
there from the deep vermillion corolla, produced a 
vision of loveliness, and it seemed so intense in its 
vitality that one could almost believe it had a soul, and 
I was irresistibly reminded of the lines— 
“ It is not that cheek, ’tis the soul dawning clear 
Through its innermost blush makes thy beauty so dear; 
As the sky we look up to, tho 1 glorious and lair, 
Is looked up to the more because Heaven is there. 1 ' 
There were some curiosities that claim worthy men¬ 
tion. The variegated Tradescantia was exquisitely 
lovely, but in order to keep it variegated one must take 
good care that the solid green shoots are pinched off, for 
it has a continual tendency to return to its native home¬ 
liness, or if not exactly homeliness, its unpretentious-* 
ness. Then there was the most sensitive plant I ever 
beheld. If one of the tiny leaflets of a single frond 
were touched, however lightly, the whole branch col¬ 
lapsed, as if resenting that a mere mortal should dare 
approach its fern-like beauty. It amused us very 
much with its queer ways. And now we came to the 
gayest little butterfly of a flower — the Clerodendron 
Thompsonii. I think it must bo descended from the 
Thunbergian family, for though it is much more aristo¬ 
cratic looking, yet it lias some striking points of re¬ 
semblance. The little balloon, out of which it starts 
so suddenly, is of purest white, instead of emerald- 
green, and the brilliant red of the tiny floweret forms a 
singular and startling contrast to it, while its long, deli¬ 
cate stamens add the grace that would otherwise be 
wanting to this gem of the conservatory. 
I met with a book during the summer called 
“ Beautiful Leaved Plants,” and some of the illustra¬ 
tions so transcendently lovely that I took for granted 
they were mere fictions, highly-colored romances, and 
never ventured to hope for their realization in this 
world, when lo ! in this paradisiacal greenhouse I came 
right upon one of the very plants that had taxed my 
credulity to the utmost! It was one of the Calladimn 
tribe, in leaf-shape like to its gigantic brother, hut 
with leaves not more than five or six inches in length; 
it was a delicate green with a deep magenta hand 
through the centre of the leaf shading off into green, 
and then had innumerable flecks and spots of red 
sprinkled over the surface that resembled nothing zo 
much as Chinese characters. Not having an interpre¬ 
ter, it remained a sealed book to me, save that it spoke of 
the wondrous power and love that had created all this 
beauty. There were others of this curious family, hut 
none had the fascination for me of this singular plaut; 
I found myself returning and studying its queer phases 
over and again. Time would fail me to describe the 
Lycopodiums and Alternantheras, without which no 
collection is now complete. 
One thing that struck me about Mr. B.’s floral 
economy was that all the spaces under these stands of 
flowers were filled with gay plants growing in the 
natural soil, bright-hued Coleus and Acbyranthus, and 
whole beds of Tradescantia of most vivid green, the 
warmth proving sufficient to bring them to perfection 
with scarce any sunshine. When I finally compelled 
myself to hid them a last, lingering adieu, this gar¬ 
dener—this great and glorious man—gave me slips 
and a magnificent bouquet; I am even now tenderly 
watching the growth of these little ones in my own 
pit. and fancy they shall one day recall the picture of 
this queenly greenhouse. Isidora. 
then to fasten them with glue or gum to the pages of 
a blank-hook; attach also the names of the flowers. 
In selecting specimens for preservation, take those of 
average size, with no part wanting. Get those with 
leaves attached to the flowers, and with stems not 
very thick, else they will not press well nor lie 
smoothly within the leaves of the hook. Get also a 
specimen of the seed vessels, if you have a seed-hear¬ 
ing plant. 
The plant-gatherer should, if possible, go out into 
the woods aud fields, equipped with a botanical box. 
This is nothing more than a flat tin box, six or eight 
inches wide, and a foot or fifteen inches long, and 
shaped like a candle box, only thinner, and having a 
lid which shuts tight. This will keep the specimens 
fresh for a day or two, if occasionally sprinkled. 
He should also have at home a portfolio a little 
larger than the box, for receiving the plants at the 
close of each excursion and for drying them. The 
paper' may he any common unsized sort, such as the 
poorest printing paper, or grocers’ white tea paper. 
The newly gathered specimens should he laid sepa¬ 
rately between the sheets of paper, and then a moderate 
weight laid upon the closed portfolio. If the speci¬ 
mens are quite succulent and moist, they should he 
placed between several sheets of coarse brown paper, 
to absorb the moisture; and it may be necessary to 
change these absorbers daily for a week, before the 
specimens are perfectly dry. 
The blank-hook for receiving the dried plants is 
generally called a herbarium. It should Ire made for 
this specific use. The botanist Linnaeus used com¬ 
mon foolscap paper, eleven by seven; hut ho found 
this too small. The best kind of paper for an herbari¬ 
um is a neat, rather firm, and sized paper, kept for 
such purposes at most hook-stores. The several 
species of plants should he placed in sheets by them¬ 
selves, with only one specimen to a sheet. The 
generic and specific name of the plant should he writ¬ 
ten at the lower right-hand corner of the sheet, to¬ 
gether with any other items of interest connected with 
the history of the plant; such, for instance, as the 
place and time when gathered, or the friend from 
whom it was received, etc. Then, as these sheets ac¬ 
cumulate, they should be gathered into covers (called 
by botanists genus covers) made of a thin sort of 
pasteboard, or the coarsest drawing-paper, and the 
name of the genus written on the outside. When 
several of these are collected, they may he put into a 
thick portfolio, having the name of the order on the 
outside. The portfolios may he kept on the shelves of 
the library. Specimens should he dried as quickly as 
possible, to prevent their becoming black and moldy. 
As many kinds of plants, and couifers especially, are 
apt to fall to pieces when dried, this may be prevented 
by plunging the newly gathered specimens for a mo¬ 
ment into boiling water. We know of few recreations 
for a stormy day in fall or winter more pleasant than 
examining a good herbarium. 
Daisy Meadows. 
PRESERVING FLOWERS FOR WINTER. 
We number not a few botanists among onr readers, 
and a still larger number of persons who love flowers 
for their own sake, and who would like to preserve 
them with more or less freshness throughout the year. 
This can he done with a little care. 
Ail that is required, is to dry and press them, and 
Rockery. —This is not a garden rockery that 1 am 
about, to describe, hut is only ou a smaller scale. It 
may he made on the mantle or on a little table. I 
have quite a collection of pretty stones, and having 
seen a parlor rockery concluded to make one. I 
placed a small collar-box on the mantle, against the 
wall, filled it with earth, and planted long, drooping 
vines of Ivy. Then T grouped the stones around until 
the box was hid from view. I arranged shells and 
small stones on the earth, leaving the Ivy to trail 
gracefully over the stones. Florence. 
