What flower can be whiter, sweeter, and more lovely than the Tuberose?
As the flowering bulbs can be bought for ten and fifteen cents,
according to size, no one need be without this charming flower. It is a
native of the East Indies, and was introduced into Europe more than two
hundred years ago. Until recently Italy grew the tubers for Europe and
America, but it has now been discovered that American grown tuberoses
are superior in quality to the imported, and many florists of Europe now
advertise them.
Here is a description of the tuberose, which appeared originally in a
volume entitled "_The Flower Garden Displayed_," published in England in
1732:
"This is a bulbous root, brought to us from Italy every year. It brings
a spike of white flowers on the top of a stalk about three feet high,
and is very sweet scented. The flower buds are a little tinted with a
lake or carmine color. We raise this by planting the roots in pots of
fine earth, and plunging them in hot beds in February or March; but give
them no water till they sprout, then we have this flower in July. Or
else set the roots in a warm border under a south wall, and they will
some of them flower in August and some in September, or this month or
the next. When these blossom you may pot them and set them into the
green-house, and some will even bloom in December."
Mr. Vick, from whose magazine we quote the foregoing, gives an engraving
copied from the work, showing the character of the tuberose as it was
nearly a century and a half ago. It represents a small single flower,
that would be lightly esteemed by us.
The flower stalk is from three to five feet in height, and bears from
twenty-five to eighty blossoms. The _Pearl_ is much the finest sort.
When the bulbs are obtained from the florist they have usually several
little tubers round the large one. These ought to be taken off and
placed in rich, mellow soil to the depth of four or five inches. They
must be cared for by keeping the earth loose and watering occasionally.
Before frost they should be lifted, their tops cut away, and then kept
in a dry, warm place during the winter. The strongest ones will usually
blossom in the autumn. But summer flowering bulbs are so cheap it seems
scarcely worth the trouble.
Will Tuberoses flower the second year, is a question frequently asked,
and usually answered in the negative, even by popular florists. A writer
in an English periodical, _Gardeners' Chronicle_, gives the following
facts:
"Last year, instead of throwing away all our plants when they had done
flowering, as is, I believe, customary, I saved back twelve plants, not
picked ones, which were placed under a stage in a late vinery, where
they remained until the end of April without receiving any water to the
roots, other than what they derived from the moisture of the house, by
which time most of them had thrown up their flower-spikes, which
proceeded from young tubers, formed immediately upon the top or crown of
the old ones, and from the union of which--when the plants had received
a thorough watering, and otherwise were subject to a growing
temperature--a profusion of roots emanated, after which the plants
received a suitable shift to a small 24. The spikes of these plants,
although not so strong or fine as those produced by tubers imported last
autumn, are nevertheless good, both in spike and each individual flower,
which, moreover, expanded in the most satisfactory manner possible, so
much so, that this and other seasons I intend to save all my tuberoses
for flowering the second year, and perhaps the third. I may here remark
for the information of the uninitiated in tuberose culture, that in
potting the tubers all little bulbets or offsets should be rubbed off,
and subsequently any suckers which may appear should be removed
forthwith, otherwise failure to flower these most beautifully scented
flowers will, in all probability be the result. The plant is of
comparatively easy and simple culture, and considering the value of the
tuberose while in flower, and its great suitability for bouquet-making,
etc., the wonder is that it is not more extensively cultivated in
private establishments as well as by market gardeners."
A gentleman writes me of a new method with Tuberoses; new to him, and
he says that in a large range of horticultural reading he has never seen
it mentioned nor heard of its being used except in the instance he
cites. He says: "I have grown Tuberoses for the past ten years with
varying success, but the main difficulty has been that so long a time
has been required in rooting and stocking them that the first frost
finds a large proportion of them just budding, or not commenced to
spindle. Had tried various places, hot-bed, furnace-room and hot-house,
and all the early spring months and December, but that made no
difference; they would not start until they got ready, and I lost many
bulbs from rotting. Two years ago, a friend who had had a similar
experience surprised me by showing me plants about the first of May with
fine tops that had been planted but three weeks, and the first of June
had stalks a foot high, while my bulbs which had been planted the first
of February, did not commence to sprout until June, although they had
been in a hot-house under favorable conditions.
"Now the reason simply was this: He had taken his bulbs and not only
pulled off all the small ones attached, but had dug out with a sharp
knife all the small eyes, and had cut off the whole of the tuberous
part, leaving only the bulb proper. This I tried on one-half my bulbs,
with the result that they were nearly two months earlier than those
planted the same time, that I did not cut. Although this seems to be
rather severe treatment of the bulb, it has given such good results that
I propose to continue the practice."
My own experience is that of late blooming. Of the dozen I planted in
the border in June, five were finely budded when taken up in September,
and have since bloomed. Two others had just begun to spindle, the others
with one exception look as though they would not stalk. Next year I
purpose to try this new method.
A Talk About Gladiolus.
"Posthumous glories, angel-like collection,
Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth,
Ye are to me a type of resurrection
And second birth."
It was my intention to devote this entire article to "Ornamental Foliage
Plants," but I think I will have a prelude, and my prelude may have no
more connection with my "talk" proper than Mr. Cook's preludes do with
his lecture proper, and I think that frequently the first is the most
interesting and important; and from the fact that in the published
reports much more space is afforded to the prelude than the lecture, I
opine that others are of the same opinion. "The Topic of the Hour,"
whatever may be the question just then stirring the public mind, is
usually chosen as the preface. The topic of the hour to-day has been a
bit of a sermon from the text, "And to every seed its own body," and the
lesson embodied was that of Faith. The preaching came from a package of
gladiolus bulbs, just received, and it run on this wise:
[Illustration]
Here are these dry bulbs, separately wrapped and labeled. They look
alike in color, and very nearly alike in form; some are rather more cone
shaped than others. One is larger and more flat. But there is nothing in
form nor size to show that they will not develop precisely the same form
and color of flower. I know that they will all reveal the leaf, habit of
growth, bud and bloom that distinguishes this species of plant from all
others, because I know that these are gladiolus bulbs, and every seed
hath its own body. A gladiolus bulb never yet produced a dahlia. A
tigridia or shell-flower bulb, though greatly resembling some gladiolus
bulbs, and its form of leaf is very similar, yet it never produces a bud
nor blossom like the gladiolus. The tigridia hath "its own body,"
peculiarly and exclusively its own. I have spoken thus far of
demonstrated facts--facts that have become to me a matter of personal
knowledge.
But now comes the lesson of _Faith_. I find each bulb bears a different
name. I take my catalogue and read the description against the name on
each label. Thus I am told what colors pertain to each bulb, inclosed,
shut up beyond my ken. Do I have any doubts respecting these
descriptions--that the distinguishing characteristics of each sort
before me will fail to correspond? Here is _Lord Byron_ and _Lord
Raglan_. How do I know that the former will be a brilliant scarlet,
stained and ribboned with pure white, while the latter will have salmon
colored blossoms, spotted with scarlet and blotched with dark garnet? I
do not _know_ this, for I have never seen it demonstrated, but I have an
_assured faith_ that in due time I shall behold those flowers true to
their assigned colors, and if there should be a failure I should
attribute it to the mistake of the labeler.
But why should these brown bulbs, so alike to outward view, bear flowers
so widely differing in hues? Why should _Cleopatra_ have a large flower
of soft lilac tinged with violet, and a purple feathered blotch, while
_Meteor_ is dark red with pure white stain? Why should _Nestor_ be
yellow striped with red, and _Addison_ dark amaranth, with white
stripes? Vainly would I seek by dissection to fathom the mystery of
these hidden diversified markings, but He who created this plant of
wondrous beauty gave to each "seed its own body," and thus we can plant
in faith--yea in full assurance of faith--that in due time our eyes will
behold all those varied tints now secreted in these bulbs before us.
Our seed sowing is all the work of Faith, and Hope looks beyond with
bright anticipations of the summer and autumn harvest.
The gladiolus is very easily cultured, and I have far better success in
keeping the bulbs through the winter than I have with the dahlia. The
tubers of the dahlia easily rot, on account of the dampness of the
cellar, though carefully dried and packed in sand. But the gladiolus
bulbs, without any special care, come out in fine condition. I like to
add a few new ones to my old standard stock, so as to have a variety of
colors, for few flowers make such a grand display in the flower garden,
and the spikes of bloom are admirable for bouquets, as the buds will
unfold day after day for a long time. The lower flowers on the stalk can
be removed as they fade. The flowers are very fine also for saucer or
shoal dish bouquets. I have a special liking for these. Fill the shallow
dish with water or sand--I prefer the latter kept constantly wet--then
arrange tastefully short stemmed flowers till they are a mass of bloom.
I first make a green border of geranium leaves, or some trailing vine.
Different shades of gladiolus flowers picked from the stalk are very
effective to set off the flowers not so striking. Where the season for
out-door culture is short, as it is here in Maine, it is best to get the
bulbs started in the house. Some do this by simply placing them in a
sunny window without covering. I always plant mine in a box.
The gladiolus can be raised from seed, but they are of slow growth, and
one has to wait till the third summer usually for their flowering. It is
far better to purchase the bulbs, then they bloom the first season, and,
except some of the rare sorts, multiply rapidly. Although novelties, and
some rare sorts are very expensive, $1.50, $2 and $3 for a single bulb,
yet very fine bulbs of choice colors can be obtained for that price _per
dozen_. In reply to the question, "What are the names of six of your
finest gladiolus not very expensive?" the reply is, "Calypso,
Cleopatra, Agatha, Eldorado, James Carter and Lord Byron." These six
cost but little more than $1. Of those more expensive the following are
very desirable: Addison, Eugene Scribe, Etenard, La France, Meyerbeer
and Rossini. These cost a little less than $3. Unnamed bulbs, a good
variety, can be bought for $1 per dozen of reliable florists.
Of the new varieties sent out the present season for the first time, are
the following raised during the past year by M. Souchet, M. Leomine and
other French growers, who have for years made the improvement of the
gladiolus a special study. They are said to be superior to any gladiolus
hitherto introduced. Aurore, Bremontier, Chameleon, Corinne, Dalila,
Eclair, Gulliver, Hermione, Lesseps, Tolma, Victor Jacquemont. The
descriptions represent them as superb, and they ought to be at the price
named, $4 per bulb! Some of us will have to wait till their novelty is
worn off.