FLOWERS.

Start not, gentle reader! We are not about to inflict upon you a

dissertation on Pelargoniums, Calla-Ethiopias, Japonicas, and such like

unmentionable terms, that bring to your mind the green-house, and

forcing-house, and all the train of expense and vexation attending them;

but we desire to have a short familiar conversation about what is all

around you, or if not around you, should be, and kept there, with very

little pains or labor on your part. Still, if you dislike the subject,

just hand this part of our book over to your excellent wife, or

daughters, or sisters, as the case may be, and we will talk to them

about this matter.

Flowers have their objects, and were made for our use and pleasure;

otherwise, God would never have strewed them, as he has, so bountifully

along our paths, and filled the world with their fragrance and beauty.

Like all else beautiful, which He made, and pronounced "good," flowers

have been objects of admiration and love since man's creation; and their

cultivation has ever been a type of civilization and refinement among

all people who have left written records behind them. Flowers equally

become the cottage and the palace, in their decoration. The humblest

cottager, and the mightiest monarch, have equally admired their beauty

and their odor; and the whole train of mortals between, have devoted a

portion of their time and thoughts to the development of their peculiar

properties.

But let that pass. Plain country people as we are, there are enough of

sufficient variety all around us, to engage our attention, and give us

all that we desire to embellish our homes, and engage the time which we

have to devote to them. Among the wild flowers, in the mountains and

hills of the farthest North, on the margin of their hidden brooks, where

"Floats the scarce-rooted watercress;"

and on their barren sides, the tiny violet and the laurel bloom, each in

their season, with unwonted beauty; and, sloping down on to the plains

beneath, blush out in all their summer garniture, the wild rose and the

honeysuckle. On, through the Middle States, the lesser flowers of early

spring throw out a thousand brilliant dyes, and are surrounded by a host

of summer plants, vieing with each other in the exuberance of their

tints. On the Alleghanies, through all their vast range, grow up the

magnificent dogwood, kalmia, and rhododendron, spangling mile upon

mile of their huge sides and tops with white, and covering crags and

precipices of untold space with their blushing splendor. Further west,

on the prairies, and oak openings, and in the deep woods, too, of the

great lakes, and of the Mississippi valley, with the earliest grass,

shoot up, all over the land, a succession of flowers, which in variety

and profusion of shape, and color, and odor, outvie all the lilies of

the gardens of Solomon; and so they continue till the autumnal frosts

cut down both grass and flower alike. Further south, along the piney

coast, back through the hills and over the vast reach of cotton and

sugar lands, another class of flowers burst out from their natural

coverts in equal glory; and the magnolia, and the tulip-tree, and the

wild orange throw a perfume along the air, like the odors of Palestine.

In the deep lagoons of the southern rivers, too, float immense

water-lilies, laying their great broad leaves, and expanded white and

yellow flowers, upon the surface, which the waters of the Nile in the

days of Cleopatra never equaled. And these are nature's wild productions

only.

Flowers being cultivated, not for profit, but for show and amusement,

need not intrude upon the time which is required to the more important

labors of the farm. A little time, given at such hours when it can be

best spared, will set all the little flower-beds in order, and keep the

required shrubbery of the place in trim--and should not be denied in any

family who enjoy a taste for them. Even the simplest of their kind, when

carefully disposed, produce a fine effect; and the hardy bulbous, and

tuberous-rooted plants require but slight aid in producing the highest

perfection of their bloom; while the fibrous-rooted perennials, and the

flowering shrubs, bloom on from year to year, almost uncared for and

untouched.

The annuals require the most attention. Their seeds must be planted and

gathered every year; they must be weeded and nursed with more care than

the others; yet they richly repay all this trouble in their fresh bloom

when the others are gone, and will carry their rich flowers far into the

frosts of autumn, when their hardier companions have composed themselves

for a winter's rest.

The position of the flower-bed, or borders, may be various. As a matter

of taste, however, they should be near the house, and in view of the

windows of the most frequented rooms. They thus give more enjoyment in

their sight, than when but occasionally seen in special visits; and such

spots can usually be set apart for them. If not in the way of more

important things, they should always be thus placed, where they are ever

objects of interest and attraction.

The ground which flowering plants occupy should be devoted to them

alone, and the soil be made deep and rich. They should not be huddled

up, nor crowded, but stand well apart, and have plenty of breathing-room

for their branches and leaves, and space for the spread of their roots.

They are consumers of the fertilizing gases, and require, equally with

other plants, their due supply of manures--which also adds to the

brilliance and size of their bloom, as well as to the growth of their

stems. Their roots should be protected in winter by coarse litter thrown

over them, particularly the earlier flowering plants, as it gives them

an early and rapid start in the spring.

In variety, we need scarcely recommend what may be most desirable. The

crocus, and snowdrop are among (if not quite) the earliest in bloom; and

to these follow the hyacinth, and daffodil, the jonquil, and many-varied

family of Narcissus, the low-headed hearts-ease, or pansy; with them,

too, comes the flowering-almond, the lilac, and another or two flowering

shrubs. Then follow the tulips, in all their gorgeous and splendid

variety of single, double, and fringed. To these follow the great

peonies, in their full, dashing colors of crimson, white and pink, and

the tree-like snow-ball, or guelder-rose. By the side of these hangs out

the monthly-trumpet-honeysuckle, gracing the columns of your veranda,

porch, or window, and the large Siberian honeysuckle, with its white and

pink flowers; and along with them, the various Iris family, or

fleur-de-lis, reminding one of France and the Bourbons, the Prussian

lilac, and the early phloxes. Then blush out, in all their endless

variety of shade and tint, from the purest white to the deepest purple,

the whole vast family of roses; and in stature, from the humblest twig

that leans its frail stem upon the ground, up to the hardy climber,

whose delicious clusters hang over your chamber window; and a month of

fragrance and beauty of these completes the succession of bulbs, and

tubers, and perennial plants and shrubs--scores of which have not been

noticed.

Now commence the annuals, which may carry you a month further into the

season, when the flaunting dahlia of every hue, and budding from its

plant of every size, from the height of little Tommy, who is just

toddling out with his mother to watch the first opening flower, up to

the top of his father's hat, as he stands quite six feet, to hold the

little fellow up to try to smell of another, which, like all the rest,

has no sign of odor. Then come, after a long retinue of different

things--among which we always count the morning-glory, or convolvulus,

running up the kitchen windows,--the great sun-flower, which throws his

broad disk high over the garden fence, always cheerful, and always

glowing--the brilliant tribe of asters, rich, varied, and beautiful,

running far into the autumnal frosts; and, to close our floral season,

the chrysanthemum, which, well cared-for, blooms out in the open air,

and, carefully taken up and boxed, will stay with us, in the house, till

Christmas. Thus ends the blooming year. Now, if you would enjoy a

pleasure perfectly pure, which has no alloy, save an occasional

disappointment by casualty, and make home interesting beyond all other

places, learn first to love, then to get, and next to cultivate flowers.

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