NEW YORK, MAY, 1877. 
BULBS. 
I have had such good success with a few bulbs, for 
the past two winters, that I must call upon the flower- 
loving sisters to rejoice with me. Crocuses are not 
much of a comfort out of doors—the stems are so very 
short, one has to get down on the ground to see them ; 
and then they are sure to open upon some deceitful 
sunny day, and we run out without a shawl to look at 
them, and are chilled to the bone, by the searching 
wind, before we can take refuge in the house again; 
but when they are in pots, we are masters of the situ¬ 
ation. I get the bulbs as early as possible in the fall, 
buying named bulbs always; plant three of a kind in 
a four-inch pot, water them well, and placing the pots 
in the hot-bed, have them covered six inches deep 
with tan bark. There they must remain until winter 
sets in—two months is about right, to develop roots. 
Their winter quarters is an east window in a hall 
which is warmed by a drum ; there are also two 
warmed bedrooms opening into it, the doors of which 
always stand open; but as the window is at least 
twenty-five feet from either of them, it can’t be overly 
warm. A board just wide enough to hold the pots is 
laid down, and the four Crocus pots and one of Due 
Van Thol tulips stand upon it, from the time they are 
brought into the house until they are turned into the 
ground in the spring. On cold nights the board is 
lifted upon a chair in the corner near the drum—it 
takes but a moment, and is easier than to carry two 
pots at a time; if the days are very cold, a newspaper 
is laid between the pots and the window—but it is not 
often necessary. In about two months, they commence 
blooming, and all come out together—solid purple, 
white, purple and white striped Crocus, and the three 
red Tulips for a contrast. The yellow Crocus I cannot 
recommend ; they won’t grow over three inches high, 
and soon fade; but the others are just lovely—from 
six to eight inches high, large blossoms, each remain¬ 
ing fresh at least five days, and a number of flowers 
from each bulb—one white one has had seven blooms; 
the brilliancy and delicacy of their colors is astonish- 
Irioral fed&iriet uml Pictorial 
ing, when one considers how little suti they get. A 
thrifty hanging-basket of Coliseum Ivy hangs in this 
window to add to its attractions, and it has been 
greatly admired by visitors, as well as a source of 
much enjoyment to ourselves. 
In a south window in my bedroom, I have another 
board, on which are two superb Hyacinths—a white 
one, with two stalks, and a red one — also a pot of 
lemon-colored dwarf Tulips, and two pots of Sweet 
Violets, that won’t bloom. I wonder if anybody does 
manage to have Violets bloom in the house—but the 
Hyacinths console me for this failure. While I was 
in Chicago I took pains to look in the windows of the 
florists, but saw no Hyacinths that would compare 
with ours ; we have two or three in the conservatory, 
also, but these are the finest. This room is considera¬ 
bly wanner than the hall—but as we open the window 
a little ways at night, usually, the board is moved 
upon the chair with the others. Of course, the pots 
are watered when they need it, and they take con¬ 
siderable water when in bloom, and very little until 
they do so. We do not ask these bulbs to bloom 
again in the house; Crocuses, especially, are so inex¬ 
pensive that we think they have given us the full 
value of our money, so get new ones every fall. 
Dyer, Ind. Mrs. J. M. B. 
GIMJ 
ORljmRlO fl. 
HINTS AND EXPEDIENTS. 
The rose-queens, robed in silken white, pink, yellow 
and deepest crimson and velvety purple, had fluttered 
away to the silent chambers in which they hide from 
all the months but June, except Prairie Queen; she 
swung her last bells merrily in the first July sunshine. 
Most of the spring and early summer flowers had gone, 
and the later ones had not yet bloomed; hut beds of 
Phlox, Portulaca and such perishable flowers were in 
their prime. 
Church bouquets were wanted, and what could they 
he made of? Certainly nothing in the garden was 
suitable hut the Prairie Queen. Early Saturday morn¬ 
ing, with the aid of waterproof and rubbers, the ques¬ 
tion was solved. Walking over the hill, with that 
open-eyed loitering most apt to lead to woodland dis¬ 
coveries, (which are so often only a comprehensive 
sight of what we pass every day), there was a sudden 
glimpse of white among the scattering hushes, which 
proved to be the snowy spikes of Indigo Plant. They 
were soon cut with long stems and put into the basket . 
Now which way ? A few moments’ hesitation, then 
the inevitable turning toward the hill of resources, one 
of those occasional hilltops where all manner of flowers 
and vines and shrubs grow in loving company, though 
in other localities they only grow isolated. Just in the 
edge of the swamp at the foot of the hill was a single 
wild Lily, which soon nestled in the basket with the 
other flowers. The lower edge of the hill was widely 
bordered with a shining mass of mandrake leaves, 
spreading eagerly and crowding each other to hide 
their one precious jewel of a flower, trying to hurst its 
wrappings. Above there were tangling vines and 
quaint shrubs and stately grasses. The handsomest 
vine-sprays and handfulls of a tall nodding grass soon 
filled the basket. Down in the swamp there were faint 
hits of red to he seen. More Lilies? Yes, and for 
every one reached two or three more were in sight. 
Turning homeward with laden arms and basket, the 
vivid Lilies nodding softly against the dewy grass at 
every step, brought to mind their text, “ consider the 
lilies of the field, for they toil not, neither do they spin.” 
No toiling or spinning, yet what secrets they have of 
subtle chemistry, baffling our senses after all labored 
investigations and theories. 
An hour after returning home, the bouquet was com- 
In the centre was a single stem of three lilies, 
thickly encircled with the tall nodding grass; then a 
row of the spikes of snowy, pea-like blossoms; more 
nodding grass; then a heavy row of lilios glowing ra¬ 
diantly behind the vail of the tine, misty grass; then 
short spikes of the white flowers and the heavy grass, 
finished with the vine sprays and the most perfect 
Peony leaves. The bouquet, was large and loose, that 
each flower might assume a natural position, yet firmly 
confined by the stems. 
With such large bouquets, and, indeed, many smaller 
ones, it is a good plan to make them upside down, 
holding the stems firmly with the fingers of the left 
hand, while adding to the bouquet with the right, turn- 
it slowly around as you work. It can thus he made 
much more even and easily. 
For an edging Peony leaves can hardly be surpassed. 
They should he selected as mature and perfect as pos 
sible, and arranged in a close circle around the bou¬ 
quet. leaving the pointed ends to extend out beyond 
the bouquet a little ways. Peony leaves are also fine 
to put into the bouquets of some flowers. 
After the large bouquet was finished, the “ Prairie 
Queens ” were made in two round bouquets, with noth¬ 
ing hut Peony leaves for filling and edging. 
To remedy the water-lilies’ habit of closing at night 
and so hiding their beauty, the outer green petals may 
be neatly plucked off, leaving large, white, waxy buds 
that can he used very effectively. If for daytime; 
Phlox (annual) and such flowers may be used, when 
they would be insignificant in the evening. 
A large ornamental vase may he filled in this wa v : 
fit a common milk-pan in it so the edge of the pan is 
level with that of the vase ; fill the pan half full with 
water, then swath the vase from brim to pedestal with 
the thick, handsome wild vine called “ Sarsaparilla,” or 
some other equally luxuriant; put the stems carefully 
under water and weight them down with small stones ; 
arrange the delicate curling ends artistically around 
the pedestal, and take care that all the leaves face 
outward, and the whole vine looks natural; hide the 
brim of the vase with a thick row of Peony leaves; in 
the middle of the pan set a basin on the stones, so 
that its edge may he an inch or two above that of the 
pan ; in the middle of the basin set a round tin can or 
tumbler. A rather rough outline of a pyramid is thus 
formed. Putting in enough water, commence at the 
outer edge and fill in with a row of darkest Phlox, 
then one of variegated or ornamental leaves, and so 
on alternately until pan and basin are full; then in the 
tin cau put a cluster of hold leaves, such as those of 
the variegated Calla, and a bright truss or two of Ger¬ 
anium. The color in the rows of Phlox should grow 
lighter from the outer edge, until the last is white. 
Both flowers and leaves should be so smoothly arranged 
as to hide the unsightly dishes and make a low, perfect 
pyramid. Now decorate the whole by putting the 
stems of several long trails of Smilax in the tin can and 
winding the vines carelessly hut artistically around and 
over the flowers, letting the ends drop lightly over the 
vase edge on the heavier vine beneath. Finish with 
heavy grass in the centre around the Calla leaves, and 
weave a fine mist of more delicate grasses over the 
whole vase. The stems can he inserted without dis¬ 
turbing the flowers. Grass is not used as much as it 
might he, and when used is apt to he introduced for¬ 
mally. If used naturally it enhances the beauty of 
flowers as much as moss does that of moss-roses. 
Thus, with a little ingenuity, and an humble atten¬ 
tion to that most perfect artist, Nature, we need never 
despise any material. Kate Price. 
