THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
187 
separated from the parent plant, and the cut part, with 
about one-third of the shoot buried under the soil and 
pinned down, leaving the end of the shoot above 
ground. After layering no particular attention is 
required, further than to see that the earth about them 
is kept at as nearly uniform moisture as possible. When 
roots have well formed, the shoots may be separated 
from the parent plant, and planted or potted to grow on 
its own account. 
In propagating by cuttings, the young tender growths 
are best to use. They should be from one and a half to 
two and one half inches long, the lower end cut square 
across with a sharp knife to prevent bruising or crush¬ 
ing. The leaves near the base should be removed and 
only two of the upper ones left. Then insert the cut¬ 
tings in clean sand where they will receive bottom heat, 
and can be covered with glass frames or bell-glasses. 
They must be kept at a temperature of from 75° to 90°, 
and kept well watered. When roots have formed, pot 
FIRE- 
’Tis June, and all the lowland swamps 
Are rich with tufted reeds and ferns, 
And filmy with the vaporous damps 
That rise when twilight’s crimson burns; 
And as the deepening dusk of night 
Steals purpling up from vale to height, 
The wanton fire-flies show their fitful light. 
Soft gleams on clover-beams they fling, 
And glimmer in each shadowy dell, 
Or downward with a sudden swing 
Fall, as of old a Pleiad fell; 
And on the fields bright gems they strew, 
And up and down the meadows go, 
And through the forest wander to and fro. 
singly and keep in a close warm frame for a few day 
until the plants become re-established in their new po 
sition when they may be repotted. Those who have no 
green-houses may sometimes succeed by first keeping 
the cuttings in water three or four days, and then put¬ 
ting them in the sand covered with glass in a warm 
room where they will get as much sunlight as possible. 
Grafting Azaleas is practiced quite extensively by 
some, especially for increasing the stock of new and 
rare varieties. Old and common varieties, or wild seed¬ 
ling are used for stocks, and the grafting is done, either 
in the propagating houses where the necessary heat and 
moisture can be maintained, or in warm pits covered 
with glazed sash. Splice or whip grafting is the style 
usually employed, and the stock and scion should be 
nearly of the same size, although the scion may be a 
little smaller if carefully joined on one side and the 
entire wound covered with wax or clay. 
L. A. R. 
FLIES. 
They store no hive or earthly cell, 
They sip no honey from the Rose; 
By day unseen, unknown they dwell, 
Nor aught of their rare gift disclose; 
Yet, when the night upon the swamps, 
Calls out the murk and misty damps, 
They pierce the shadows with their shining lamps. 
Now ye, who in life’s garish light, 
Unseen, unknown, walk to and fro, 
When death shall bring a dreamless night, 
May we not find your lamps aglow ? 
God works, we know not why nor how, 
And, one day, lights close hidden now, 
May blaze like gems upon au angel’s brow. 
—George Arnold. 
COWSLIPS. DANDELIONS AND BUTTERCUPS. 
‘ ‘ W ho cares for them?” you ask. ‘ ‘They are not flowers 
at all, but ‘ greens,’ and fit only for the the dinner pot.” 
We answer that they are as much flowers as Violets, 
Roses or Tulips, true children of the field and meadow, 
golden-crowned empresses, blazing with sunshine, as if 
they had caught something of his glory in their cups 
and discs. They mark periods in Nature’s calendar of 
the year, more tine and definite than any almanac- 
maker can do. They stand for those last warm days of 
May and the long, rare days of the first of June. So 
they personify a season—those glittering, beautiful 
days, when 
“ To breathe is exquisite pleasure. 
And to live is to be like unto the gods.” 
It is Violet-time, and all the sweetness of the tribe lies 
scattered over the earth, in purple and azure, sapphire 
and torquoise and amethystine, precious stones gleaming 
everywhere. Who is there but has an interest in those 
rare, bonny flowers, that come to us when the grass is 
emerald, to recall the story of Io, flie daughter of Midas 
who was betrothed to Atys, and changed by Diana into 
a Violet to hide her from Apollo, and to remind us 
that they were the badge of the mediaeval minstrels, 
with whom the prize of poesy was a golden Violet. 
“ Sweet Violets, love’s paradise, that spread 
Your gracious odors, which you couched bear within your 
pearly faces, 
Upon the gentle wing of some calm-breathing wind 
That plays amidst the plain, 
If, by the favor of propitious stars, you gain 
Such grace as in my lady’s bosom place to find, 
Be proud to touch those places.” 
While the pastures and hillsides are rich with these 
flowers, typical of modesty, in the “runs” and mead¬ 
ows, you will find the Cowslips, or Marsh Marigold, as 
it should be called, gleaming, a symphony in gold and 
green. How delightful is their scent! How much 
richer their full, golden-yellow, than the weak tint of 
the Primrose, the larger-petaled member of the same 
