_Editor Mayflower:_
Outside all is snow and ice, the wind howls and rattles at doors and
windows and I feel very sure Jack Frost is trying to get in to nip my
few pretty, thrifty window plants, but I do not think he will succeed,
for when I shut them up at night in tight boxes, and cover the tops, I
do not believe he could reach them though a blizzard raged. I have been
looking out at a bed where there are two dozen glass jars showing, or
rather their tops are just sticking out, for they are well banked with
old well rotted cowpen manure and coarse litter thrown over that--and
all now covered over with snow, making little white mounds all over the
bed. But I know that underneath these mounds are two dozen little Rose
slips--some very choice varieties--and every chance I get to peep at
them, which is every chance I get to go outside, they look fresh and
green and bid fair promise of much pleasure in the spring and summer
when, if they grow as those I raised a year ago under glass jars did, it
will be a marvel to watch them. I think it a far more satisfactory way
to raise Roses than to buy small rooted plants from a florist; at least,
such has been my experience.--_Sister Belle._