M. D. Wellcome
Talks About Flowers
The Love of Flowers
"We should love flowers, for when we are gone
From this forgetful world a few short years—
Nay, months, perhaps—those whom we hold most dear,
Cease to bedew our memories with tears,
And no more footsteps mark the paths that lead
To where we dreamless lie; but God's dear flowers
Give to our very graves the loveliness
That won our tender praise when life was ours."
LAST WORDS OF THE POET HEINE
OF the many touching tributes paid to flowers, there is a beautiful one associated with the closing hours of Henry Heine, the poet. He was dying in Paris. The doctor was paying his usual visit, when Heine pressed his hand and said: "Doctor, you are my friend, I ask a last favor. Tell me the truth—the end is approaching, is it not?"
The doctor was silent.
"Thank you," said Heine calmly.
"Have you any request to make?" asked the doctor, moved to tears.
"Yes," replied the poet; "my wife sleeps—do not disturb her. Take from the table the fragrant flowers she brought me this morning. I love flowers so dearly. Thanks—place them upon my breast." He paused, as he inhaled their perfume. His eyes closed, and he murmured: "Flowers, flowers, how beautiful is Nature!" These were his last words.
THE OLD MAN AND THE FLOWERS
A few years since the Belfast (Me.) Journal gave this touching incident: "One day last week an elderly man, known to our people as an honest and hard-working citizen, was walking slowly up Main street. There was sorrow in his countenance, and the shadow of grief upon his face. Opposite the Savings Bank his eye caught sight of the flowering Oleander, that with other plants fill the bay-window of the banking-room. He looked at it long and wistfully. At length he pushed open the door, and approaching Mr. Q., said:
"'Will you give me a few of those flowers?'
"The cashier, leaving the counting of money and the computing of interest, came around the counter, bent down the plant, cut off a cluster of blossoms, and placed it in the man's toil-hardened hand. His curiosity led him to ask:
"'What do you want them for?'
"'My little granddaughter died of scarlet fever last night,' the man replied with faltering voice, 'and I want to put them in her coffin.'
"Blessed be flowers, that can thus solace the bereavement of death and lend their brightness as a bloom, to the last resting-place of the loved one."
CONVERTED BY A FLOWER
There is a beautiful incident told of a Texas gentleman who was an unbeliever in the Christian religion. One day he was walking in the woods, reading the writings of Plato. He came to where the great writer uses the phrase, "God geometrizes." He thought to himself, "If I could only see plan and order in God's works, I could be a believer." Just then he saw a little Texas Star at his feet. He picked it up and then thoughtlessly began to count its petals. He found there were five. He counted the stamens, and there were five of them. He counted the divisions at the base of the flower, there were five of them. He then set about multiplying these three fives to see how many chances there were of a flower being brought into existence without the aid of mind, and having in it these three fives. The chances against it were one hundred and twenty-five to one. He thought that was very strange. He examined another flower, and found it the same. He multiplied one hundred and twenty-five by itself, to see how many chances there were against there being two flowers, each having these exact relations of numbers. He found the chances against it were thirteen thousand six hundred and twenty-five to one. But all around him were multitudes of these little flowers, and they had been growing and blooming there for years. He thought this showed the order of intelligence, and that the mind that ordained it was God. And so he shut up his book, picked up the little flower, kissed it, and exclaimed: "Bloom on little flowers; sing on little birds; you have a God, and I have a God; the God that made these little flowers made me."
A Talk About Abutilons
THIS species is one of the most desirable of hardy-wooded plants we possess. They are admirable for the house, for the balcony, the piazza, or the border, being handsome in foliage, and very graceful and beautiful in flowers. Some are stately, others dwarf, some are flexible and drooping. We have had for several years three that we have greatly admired for their variegated leaves, especially for the winter window-garden, where they compensate for the scarcity of flowers, by the brilliancy of their foliage, yellow and green, finely mottled and marbled.
Duc de Malakoff is stately, and by cutting off the top of the main stalk, it is made to branch out very largely, forming a miniature tree. It grows very rapidly, and its leaves are like the Maple in form, which has led many to call the plant Flowering Maple, but this is not correct, as it is not a Maple at all, but an Abutilon. Some of the leaves on one only a year old, measure seven inches across, and eight and a half in length. In the older plant they are not so large. Thomsonii much resembles Malakoff, but its markings are not so handsome; the green is darker, and predominates over the yellow, so far as my observation extends, but it is a more abundant bloomer. Flowers are orange color. I have vainly searched through many catalogues to find the color of the Duc de Malakoff blossom, but all are silent; it is not even said that they flower at all, but my four-year-old had one bud last year, which unfortunately blighted. The yearling has one bud, and I hope it will live and afford me the knowledge I have failed to find in books. Malakoff not variegated, has large orange bells, striped with brown.
My other variegated Abutilons are of trailing habit; Mesopotamicum is very graceful, one droops over the side, and climbs and twines around the cords of a large hanging-pot, for which it is admirably adapted. Its small pendant blossoms, crimson and yellow, growing profusely along the slender branches, drooping among the elegantly marbled foliage, give this variety a very attractive charm. Another is trained to a pot trellis, and is very beautiful in this form. We advise every one to add this variety to their collection. Pictum is very similar in every respect; the leaves are darker, and not so variegated. They require a strong light to bring out their markings, and hence are more perfect in beauty when bedded out in the garden, where they can have plenty of sunshine.
Boule de Neige (Fairy Bell) has long been a favorite for its pure white bells and constancy of bloom. A splendid winter bloomer. John Hopkins, with its rich, dark, glossy leaves and golden flowers has superseded the old Pearl d'Or, which was for a time the only real yellow. Darwinii is one of my favorites. The flowers are more spreading than any other variety, opening like a parasol; color orange-scarlet veined with pink. It blossoms very profusely, and when only a few inches in height. The flowers are large and well formed, and borne in clusters rather than singly, like many older sorts. This variety was cross-fertilized with Santana, crimson flower, and as a result we have Darwinii tessellatum, combining the variegated foliage of Thomsonii with the free-blooming qualities of Darwinii.
The improvements by hybridizing have been very great within a few years, and many new varieties have been sent out. One of these is Roseum Superbum, the flowers of which are of a rich rose color, veined with a delicate pink. Very free bloomer. Venosum, we find only named in an English catalogue. "The magnificent blooms of this variety place it at the top of all the Abutilons. Although it is of tall growth its beautiful palm-shaped leaves and gorgeous flowers make it invaluable for crossing and for conservatories."—H. Cannell.
Among the new and valuable novelties of American origin are Arthur Belsham, Robert George, J. H. Skinner, and Joseph Hill. These have been three years before the public, and Mr. John Thorp, a well-known popular florist of Queens, N. Y., says of them, "We have not, amongst all the flowering Abutilons, such fine varieties as these. I have had plants between five and six feet high, pyramidal shape and literally covered with flowers."
They originated with Messrs. Leeds & Co., of Richmond, Indiana, who make quite a specialty of new seedling Abutilons, and this year offer four "of new shades and colors."
A. G. Porter. "Flowers of a beautiful lavender color, delicately suffused with a light shade of rosy pink, and handsomely veined with magenta, forming a flower of magnificent color and shape, a very free bloomer. A cross between Boule de Neige and Rosaflora, with the habit and growth of Boule de Neige."
Little Beauty, "A very dwarf grower, having a short, compact, symmetrical bush, which is completely covered with its medium-sized but well-shaped flowers, of a very light salmon color, beautifully veined with rosy carmine. It blooms in clusters and when in full bloom makes a remarkably fine appearance. A cross between Rosaflora and Darwinii."
N. B. Stover, "A low, compact grower. Flowers large and well-formed, almost covering the bush; color, rich ponceau, finely veined with carmine. A decided novelty, being a new color among Abutilons."
Dr. Rapples. "Light orange salmon, veined with crimson. One of the most attractive in the set."
A new Abutilon, a decided novelty in color, comes to us from "The Home for Flowers," Swanley, England, sent with other choice plants by Henry Cannell & Son. It is thus described in his Floral Guide:
Firefly (Swanley Red). By far the highest and brightest color of all the family; habit dwarf, and one of the freest bloomers, throwing flowers out on strong foot stalks of the finest shape; certainly one of the noblest, and when grown in a pot it flowers all the winter, and all the summer when planted out, and forms one of the best flowering shrubs that we possess.
Parentage of this Flower.—Mr. George states that he sometime since flowered a small red variety, which had a very lively shade of color, and determining to make this a seed parent, it occurred to him to use on it the pollen of the single deep color Hibiscas, which, like the Abutilon, is included in the natural order Malvaceæ. Mr. George thinks the fine color seen in his new variety, Firefly, is due to this happy inspiration of color.
The Gardener's Chronicle has this paragraph respecting Firefly: A red Abutilon, one of a batch of recent seedlings raised by Mr. J. George of Putney Heath, well deserves the foregoing appellation. The flowers are of large size and of a much greater depth and vividness of color than that possessed by any variety in the Chiswick collection. It has been provisionally named Firefly, and we believe the stock has passed into the hands of H. Cannell & Son, of Swanley, for distribution.
A writer in Vick's Magazine describes a method of training the Abutilon that must, we think, be a very attractive one.
"A pretty plant may be obtained by inarching Abutilon Mesopotamicum upon Abutilon Darwinii, or some other strong-growing variety, and training it so as form an umbrella head, which can easily be done. The stock for this purpose should be about five or six feet high. Grown in this way it produces an abundance of bloom, and the flowers being elevated are seen in all their beauty. If Abutilon Mesopotamicum is inarched upon Abutilon Thompsonii, the result will be Abutilon Mesopotamicum Variegatum. A well-formed plant of this on a stock about five feet high is one of the finest of plants; whether in blossom or not it is always adapted for decorative or exhibition purposes. Care must be taken at all times to keep them tied to stakes, as they are liable to be broken off by the wind."
Abutilons are apt to be infested by the red spider, if kept in too dry an atmosphere, and not frequently sprayed. Moisture is death to this pest, but as it makes its home on the under side of the leaf, it is too often overlooked until it has destroyed the vitality of the foliage. Recently I found that my large Duc de Malakoff looked sickly, and I concluded it had become root-bound. A few days later, I noticed brown spots thickly covering the bark. I removed one, and on examining the under side through a microscope, I saw several tiny insects moving about. I decided that my plant was troubled with the scale of which I had often read, but never seen. I made a pretty strong solution of soap-suds, and with a sponge quite easily removed all of the pests.
In bedding out Abutilons, it is better to have them in pots, plugging the hole, or setting the pot on a stone or piece of brick, so that the roots may not go astray, for if plunged directly in the ground they throw out many roots and the plant becomes too large for re-potting to advantage. If, however, they are planted in the earth, in August they should be cut around the stock so as to bring the roots within due bounds, and the plant can be pruned in the autumn. This method is applicable to all strong plants that run largely to roots. They should be cut off sufficiently to leave only a ball of earth of convenient size to set in the pot when the plant is transplanted.
A Talk About Dahlias
THE genus Dahlia comprises but few species, all natives of the mountains of Mexico, whose range is from 5000 to 10,000 feet above the level of the sea. About one hundred years ago a Spanish botanist introduced seeds of the Dahlia into his native country, and named the genus in honor of a Swedish botanist, Dahl. The first seed imported seemed to be variable and not very promising. About seventy years since, Humboldt sent fresh seed to Germany. Soon after this, both seeds and bulbs were introduced into England and France, and began to attract considerable attention, some enthusiast being rash enough to hazard the assertion that "there are considerable reasons for thinking that the Dahlia will hereafter be raised with double flowers."
About 1812 probably the first double Dahlia was grown, but for several years after this both double and single varieties were figured in colored plates, and exhibited at horticultural shows. That the single varieties were prized is not strange, for the double were not very good, and even as late as 1818, published figures showed very imperfect flowers.
The improvement of the Dahlia after this was rapid, and its popularity quite kept pace with its improvement. Dahlia exhibitions were held in England and on the continent, which were crowded by enthusiastic admirers of this wonderful Mexican flower. For many years the Dahlia maintained its popularity, but there is a fashion in flowers, as in almost everything, and for a time the Dahlia became, to a certain extent, unfashionable, and this was well; for it placed the flower upon merit alone, and growers were compelled to introduce new and superior varieties to command either attention or sale for their favorite flower.
A taste for old styles is now the "correct thing," and so we have imitations of ancient earthenware, furniture, etc., and import original Chinese Aster seed, and also obtain roots of the single Dahlia from Mexico.
There are three pretty distinct classes, the Show Dahlias, the Dwarf or Bedding, and the Pompon or Bouquet, and to this we may add the Fancy Dahlia. The Show Dahlia grows from three to four feet in height, and embraces all our finest sorts, fit for exhibition at horticultural shows, from which the name is derived; the flowers range in size from two and a half to five inches in diameter. The striped and mottled and spotted varieties belonging to the Show section are called Fancy, and though not as rich, nor usually as highly prized as the selfs, or those of one color, are very attractive. The Dwarf or Bedding Dahlia grows about eighteen inches in height, and makes a thick, compact bush, and covers a good deal of surface; flowers of the size of Show Dahlias. They are therefore very desirable for bedding and massing. The Pompon or Bouquet Dahlia makes a pretty, compact plant, about three feet in height. The leaves are small, and the flowers from one to two inches in diameter. Many expect to find small flowers on their Dwarf Dahlias, and feel disappointed because they are of the ordinary size, not knowing that it is the plant, and not the flower, that is dwarfed, and that only the Pompon gives the small flowers. The word Pompon is French for topknot or trinket, meaning about the same as the English word cockade. The English term Bouquet is very appropriate, as the flowers are so small they are very suitable for bouquets. Being of a spreading habit, they cover a good deal of ground. Unlike most of our bedding out plants, they do best in a poor soil; if rich, they grow to branches and leaves so much, they bloom sparingly and late.
Generally those who plant Dahlias purchase the tuberous roots, because they give good strong plants, that flower freely without trouble or risk. They are smaller and better than the large, coarse roots usually grown, because they are raised from cuttings, and generally form their roots in pots. When a tuber is planted, a number of buds that cluster around its top will push and form shoots, and if too numerous, a portion should be removed; indeed, one good, strong plant will suffice, and then the plant will become a tree instead of a bush. Even then, if the top become too thick, a little thinning of the branches will be of advantage. If the young shoots that start from the neck of the bulb, are cut off near a joint and placed in a hot-bed in sandy soil, they will root, form good plants, and flower quite as well as plants grown from the tuber; this, however, requires some care and experience, and amateurs generally will succeed best with bulbs.
New varieties of Dahlias, of course, are from seed. Some of them prove good, others fair, and a portion utterly worthless. As a general rule, we would not advise amateurs to trouble with seeds, although there is pleasure in watching the birth and development of a new and beautiful variety.
The seed of Dahlias may be sown in pots in early spring or end of winter, in a light, loamy soil; they will germinate quickly, and as soon as they begin to show their second leaves they should be pricked out into other pots or boxes, so that they may have plenty of room and air—they are very liable to damp off if at all crowded. After pricking out they should be kept in a thrifty, growing condition, by proper attention to watering and temperature; the temperature should be maintained as near 70° as possible, and the watering be sufficient to preserve a moderate moisture.
If the green fly attack them, it will be best to treat them to a very weak dilution of tobacco water; the young succulent plants are very sensitive to smoke, and it is best not to fumigate them. In about two months the young plants should be large enough to pot off singly, or to be transplanted into a frame or bed, where protection can be given them from the cold of night-time, or from late frosts. As soon as all danger is past they can be transplanted into their summer quarters, and should stand at least three feet apart. The soil where they are to grow, should be rich and mellow. In August they will come into flower, and those having blooms worthy of cultivation can be retained, and the others destroyed. Only a small proportion of the plants grown from common seed produce flowers equal to those now in cultivation, but when seed is saved from a choice collection of named varieties, the chances are that a large proportion of the plants will produce very good flowers.—Vick's Magazine.
"The Dahlia is called a gross feeder, but it is not. It loves moisture rather than rich elemental food. In clay it finds the best constituents of its development—moisture, silex, lime and alumnia. So we say to those who love this queenly flower, if you would see the queen in all her glory, plant in a comparatively heavy soil, no manure, and reduce the stalks to one for each tuber, set the stakes firmly, to keep the stalks from swaying, and if the season is dry, give the bulbs a soaking with water every evening during the drought. My word for it you will then be proud of your success."
The Pompon, or Bouquet Dahlia is a favorite variety of this genus. The little round balls of bloom are so pretty and trim. Beatrice, blush tinted with violet; Dr. Stein, deep maroon, striped and mottled; Goldfinder, golden yellow; Little Philip, creamy-buff edged with lilac; Little Valentine, crimson; Mein Streifling, salmon, striped with crimson; Pearl, white; Prima Donna, white, fimbriated; Perfection, deep maroon.