THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
349 
We often hear the skill of an individual attrib¬ 
uted to “luck.” What an erroneous idea? If they 
had said pluck, it would hit nearer to the truth. 
Ask the professional florist if his knowledge of the 
science, or the success he has attained to such an emi¬ 
nent degree, is the result of an accident. 
That the love of flowers is inherent in some natures, 
while in others it is entirely wanting, I believe, and ad¬ 
mit, and also, that an individual having this trait, may 
count one point to start with; but many more are needed 
to make a successful florist. Study and practice are 
necessary to make us wise in any branch of science, and 
that of floriculture is not an exception. 
I remember when a wee lassie, of thinking that the 
hills and stretches of woodlands that surrounded us as 
far as eye could reach, was the boundary of the whole 
world; and I wanted somebody to make a ladder that 
would stand upon the earth and reach to the tree-tops, 
just where the firmament closed down upon them so 
that I might climb up and turn about, and view the 
whole world at a glance. Maturer years soon dispelled 
the fancies of childhood; but, evidently, they did not 
make me much wiser, for when I began to study the 
laws that govern the vegetable kingdom, and to make 
an earnest of the culture of flowers, I still cherished 
ideas as chimerical in relation to the floricultural world, 
shut in by the stupendous hills of science. But, in this 
latter instance, I already had a ladder at hand, con¬ 
structed by Asa Gray, expressly for the purpose of 
climbing the hill of knowledge, and I thought by its 
use I could soon stand where the heavens and the earth 
met, and then the mysteries of the vegetable kingdom 
would be to me an open book. 
That was more than twenty years ago, and the hill 
still rises far above me, but every round of the ladder has 
taught me new and beautiful truths, and these in turn, 
have made me painfully conscious of my own ignorance. 
The years in their flight have taken with them much of 
my self-conceit; and to-day, in my humility, I ques¬ 
tion, if one little life-time is long enough to read the 
book of Nature understandingly. 
That those who turn one page, may do it with pleas¬ 
ure and profit while King Winter reigns, I’ll drop just one 
more hint, and then lay down my pen. If your plants are 
grown in small pots, a method I would strongly advise, 
some of them may get hungry before spring and need a 
little stimulating; but be cautious how you use liquid 
manures. If you must use it let it be in homoepathic 
doses, if you would keep your plants entirely free from 
insects. Where it is practicable, it is a better and safer 
way to repot in fresh soil; but to be able to do this, the 
soil should be prepared and housed, ready for potting 
whenever it is needed. I fill a large box every winter, 
and I find it very convenient for seeds that need plant¬ 
ing early in spring-time before the frost is out of the 
ground. It requires but a trifle of time and labor to re¬ 
pot a plant, and it can be done at any period of its 
growth without the least injury. If it is in bud or 
bloom, turn out the ball of earth carefully, and replant 
into a larger pot without disturbing the roots at all. 
But if buds are not set and you wish to use the same pot, 
crumble a part of the soil from the roots and reset again. 
Fuchsias and Heliotropes require more earth, and more 
stimulating than Geraniums; a draught of liquid man¬ 
ure not too strong, may be given to both once a week, 
to the Fuchsia particularly, as it is one of the grossest 
feeders we have among our winter blooming plants. 
But fresh manure should not be used even in a Squid 
form; fill up a box from the stable yard where the soil is 
thoroughly decayed and store with your box of earth, 
and let reason tell you when and where it may be used 
with good effect. May all amateurs succeed in coaxing 
their plants into bloom the present season ; but should 
you fail do do so, don’t attribute the cause to chance. 
Let the blame rest where it belongs, with yourselves, 
and search diligently to find out if it was brought about 
by deeds of omission or commission. 
Mrs. G. W. Flanders. 
OLD FASHIONED FLOWERS. 
“ Give me the old Dutch Honeysuckle 
A-making even the night-time sweet, 
A-blossoming at every knuckle, 
A nd hanging to your very feet. 
And pink and huff and white Carnations 
And Rose-buds snuggled up in Moss, 
Heart’s-ease and Violets, dear relations. 
And gay Snapdragons, bright and cross. 
Give me the good old week-day blossoms 
I used to see so long ago. 
With hearty sweetness in their bosoms, 
Ready and glad to bud and blow.” 
How strange it is that the beautiful flowers should be 
subject to the caprice of fashion; that the friends of our 
childhood, then so lovely, and so highly prized, should 
now be ruthlessly cast aside to make room for modern 
beauties that have to be cut and pruned, pegged down 
and tied up until they become as artificial as a dude. In 
fact, most of our gardens, now-a’-days, are simply vege¬ 
table dudes. All the plants put on foreign airs, they are 
stiff, unnatural and void of the grace, beauty and sweet¬ 
ness that characterized our gardens when plants that 
looked natural were supposed to look best. The modern 
gardener has seemingly the impression that the Creator 
had not a realizing sense of the beautiful, and did not 
know what shape a tree, shrub or plant should assume 
to be truly artistic. Some even assert that a natural 
flower is not a beautiful one, that single forms must be 
cast aside to make room for floral monstrosities, like 
double Tulips, Petunias, or many other forms we might 
mention. Others assert that the Creator did not make 
the Pear, Peach or Apple, in its perfection, but made an 
inferior quality so that man could improve upon it by 
the wisdom given him; and so man claims the credit 
for all our luscious fruits as the results of his labor in 
selection and hybridization. 
We believe there never was a fruit more luscious, a 
flower more beautiful or fragrant, or a grain more nu¬ 
tritious and healthful than that first planted by the hand 
of Divine Goodness. That all may have deteriorated by 
ages of neglect, we do not doubt, but we certainly 
believe we shall never have forms more beautiful, useful 
or pleasing than the originals. For that reason we grieve*, 
over the loss of the Hollyhocks, Marigolds, Fox-Gloves, 
Nemophilas, Forget-me-nots, and the long list, once 
