114 
THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
well afford to be. for it will make itself felt. Most 
flowers would put on such airs, if they had half the 
beauty Nature has given the Pansies, that they would 
want the whole garden to themselves. Their heads 
would be quite turned with their charms, but the 
Pansy doesn’t seem to think of such things. It may 
know how beautiful it is, but I suppose it thinks it 
couldn’t help being so, and though it enjoys its own 
loveliness, it doesn’t feel the least bit better than its 
plain neighbors; for the same Hand fashioned both, and 
back of beauty and plainness is the wisdom which plans 
everything for the best, and precisely as it ought to be; 
though we plain folks can’t understand, as the Pansies 
seem to, just why we couldn’t have been a trifle less 
plain, and our handsome neighbors a little less hand¬ 
some. 
I sowed my Pansies a year ago last June. The ground 
in which I planted them was only moderately rich. In 
consequence, they did not grow very fast, but they 
wei*e healthy and strong, and were in fine condition 
when cold weather came. I think they were all the 
better for their slow growth through the season. Rich 
earth might have had the same weakening effect on 
them as rich food on children. It doesn’t pay to force 
them ahead too fast. Better a slower, steadier and 
more sturdy growth. I put Pine branches about them 
for a protection. I like Evergreens to put about such 
small plants better than anything else I have ever used. 
Straw packs down too firmly under the snow, to admit 
much air, and I am convinced that they want a good 
deal of it. The branches keep them from smothering, 
and in spring they keep the ground from thawing out 
and freezing up again every day, if they are not re¬ 
moved too early. I do not uncover my Pansies until I 
am quite sure they feel like growing. You can’t make 
them grow by pretending that you think it is time. 
They know better about that than we do. 
My plants came out in perfect health, in spring. I 
took up most of them, and put them in one large bed in 
the garden. I did not make the soil very rich, for 
they had made such a satisfactory growth the season 
before, that I felt sure they would do belter in a soil 
that was not too forcing. They soon became fine 
plants, and by the end of May they began to blossom. 
Then I began to give them a semi-weekly watering 
with water dipped up in the hollows of the barn-yard, 
after a rain. You ought to have seen how they grew 
then. Not so much to branches as to flowers. By the 
middle of June the bed was a perfect sheet of color, 
purple, blue, yellow, coppery-red and maroon, and no 
two flowers seemed alike. Some flowers combined all 
colors, as if they hardly knew which they liked best, 
and so took a little of each. I always thought of but¬ 
terflies when I looked at them. At first, I made up my 
mind that there would be no black ones and no white ones; 
but I felt quite satisfied, for I had some exquisite blue 
and yellow ones. But by-and-by they seemed to think 
better of it, and I was delighted at finding several 
plants of the colors I had hoped to have. I have never- 
seen larger flowers than mine. Why they grew so well 
I do not know, unless it was because of the treatment 
I have described. They were not shaded in any way, 
the bed being in sunshine all day long. They gave me 
flowers all summer, and there were buds and blossoms 
on them when the snow came. I cut out all the oldest 
growth in September, and new branches started at the 
roots. From this late growth I expect a good crop of 
flowers next year, though I depend on new plants of 
last season’s raising for my best ones. 
The variegated ones are lovely, but, to my mind, 
those of one color are loveliest. I have some plants 
that were grown from seed saved with each color 
separate, and I expect great things from them. There 
are four varieties—Emperor William, rich blue; King 
of the Blacks, a velvety-black in the shade, and dark, 
intense purple in the sun; Snow Queen, pure white with 
yellow eye; and Cloth-of-Grold, a lovely primrose- 
yellow. If these prove true to name, I shall have such 
a Pansy-bed as I never had before. 
Eben E. Rexford. 
A GOOD CREED. 
About forty-two years ago the Rev. Henry Ward 
Beecher was editor of the Indiana Farmer and Gar¬ 
dener, a monthly magazine published in Indianapolis. 
His first work was to establish a creed, which was as 
follows: 
“We believe in small farms and thorough cultiva¬ 
tion. 
“We believe that soil loves to eat, as well as its 
owner, and ought, therefore, to be manured. 
“We believe in large crops which leave the land 
better than they found it—making both the farmer and 
the farm rich at once. 
“We believe in going to the bottom of things and, 
therefore, in deep plowing, and enough of it. All the 
better if with a subsoil plow. 
“ Yv’e believe that every farm should own a good 
farmer. 
“We believe that the best fertilizer of any soil, is a 
spirit of industry, enterprise, and intelligence'—without 
this, lime and gypsum, bones and green manure, marl 
and guano will be of little use. 
“We believe in good fences, good barns, good farm¬ 
house, good stock, good orchards, and children enough 
to gather the fruit. 
“We believe in a clean kitchen, a neat wife in it, a 
spinning-piano, a clean cupboard, a clean dairy, and a 
clean conscience. 
“We firmly disbelieve, in farmers that will not im¬ 
prove; in farms that grow poorer every year; in starve¬ 
ling cattle; in farmers’ boys turning into clerks and 
merchants ; in farmers’ daughters unwilling to work, 
and in all farmers ashamed of their vocation, or who 
drink whisky till honest people are ashamed of them.” 
We would that every farmer and gardener in our 
land, would not only adopt, but keep this creed invio¬ 
late. 
