Talks About Flowers
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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
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:
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.
NEW HYBRID GLADIOLUS
Lemoinei and Marie Lemoine. "These two varieties are Hybrids of gladiolus purpureo-auratus, and are of the old garden varieties of Gandavensis, and are now offered for the first time. In form they approach the old Gladiolus Biperatus, the colors being creamy ground with distinct markings of crimson-maroon, with lemon and salmon colored cloudings. They have proved quite hardy and may be left out of doors from year to year." Mr. Henry Cannell of Swanley, England, a florist of world-wide reputation, says of those hardy Hybrids: "It is considered both by professionals and the trade, that M. Leomine's greatest victory was in crossing Gladiolus purpureo-auratus and gandavensis, two distinct species, and at the time they were awarded first-class certificates, it was thought by many that some higher and substantial recognition ought to have been made for introducing a perfectly hardy constitution into our glorious garden gladiolus, and saving the trouble of housing them from frost every season."
GLADIOLUS PURPUREO-AURATUS
This is a new species from Natal, quite distinct from the common species of gladiolus and very attractive. On a slender, bending stem, which rises to the height of three or four feet, are borne from eight to twelve nodding flowers, somewhat bell-shaped in form, and yellow in color, with broad purple stripes on the lower divisions within. Its bulbs are small, and at the end of long runners numerous offsets are produced which are more certain to flower the succeeding season than are the old bulbs.
GLADIOLUS GANDAVENSIS
This ancient type is a very ordinary flower, and it seems almost incredible that such superb varieties should have been produced therefrom by cross-fertilization. In the hands of the French florists it has attained to the superior position it occupies to-day. More than forty years ago Mons. Souchet, head gardener at the Château of Fontainebleau, first called attention to this flower, and began its improvement, and although some few other French florists, such as Messrs. Courant, Berger, Lamoine, Verdier and others followed his example, yet nearly all of the varieties now in commerce in France, are of the raising of that now venerable and respected private citizen. His successors, Messrs. Soulliard and Brunelet supply the great French houses of Paris, by whom the bulbs are forwarded to all parts of the world. About thirty years ago Mr. Kelway of Longport, in Somersetshire, began his culture and hybridizing of the flower, and has built up an immense business. He devotes fifteen acres to Gladiolus exclusively, and the number of seedlings annually raised is 200,000. In 1879-80, Mr. Kelway exhibited eighteen named seedlings which were severally awarded first-class certificates as possessing striking original characteristics. Of our own eminently successful growers, Messrs. Hallock and Thorp of Queens, N. Y., take the lead. They devote over seven acres to Gladiolus, and raise thousands of seedlings.
MODE OF CULTURE
For diversity of color and general effect, either in masses, or in beds of three or four rows, placing the bulbs one foot apart and three inches deep. Mix a liberal supply of well-rotted manure with the soil, and if clayey, use sand. As soon as the plants are sufficiently tall stake them, and mulch with dressing.
The Use of FlowersGod might have made the earth bring forthEnough for great and small,The oak-tree and the cedar-tree,Without a flower at all.We might have had enough, enough,For every want of ours,For luxury, medicine, and toil,And yet have had no flowers.Then wherefore, wherefore, were they made,All dyed with rainbow light,All fashioned with supremest grace,Upspringing day and night;—Springing in valleys green and low,And on the mountains high,And in the silent wilderness,Where no man passes by?Our outward life requires them not,—Then wherefore had they birth?—To minister delight to man,To beautify the earth;To comfort man,—to whisper hope,Whene'er his faith is dim,For Who so careth for the flowers,Will care much more for him.Mary Howitt.A Talk About Pelargoniums
HERE we step on disputed ground. Are Geraniums Pelargoniums? Who shall decide when florists disagree? There are eminent names on both sides of the question. Mr. Henry Cannell of Swanley, England, a florist who stands in the front rank, and whose name has become so widely known in connection with New Life Geranium, of which he was the originator, jumbles up together under the head of Pelargoniums everything we on this side of the water class under the head of Geraniums. A veritable muddle he makes of the matter—that is our private opinion—we whisper it to you confidentially. Here is our yellow Zonal Guinea; our best scarlet bedder, Gen. Grant, and Wellington, and Mrs. Pollock, and Happy Thought, all called Pelargoniums, and yet are quite unlike in leaf and flower what we Americans denominate a Pelargonium; and, to avoid confusion, it is certainly advisable for us to adhere to our established distinctiveness. We quote from the Gardener's Chronicle of January 3d, 1880, a sensible talk on this subject, to which Mr. Cannell takes exceptions: "Pelargoniums and Geraniums—I think it would be as well to settle by authority the exact names of those flowers that seem to be indiscriminately called Pelargoniums and Geraniums. Botany has been described as the 'science of giving polysyllabic barbarian Greek names to foreign weeds;' but while some plants, Abies Mariesii for instance, are most carefully described, others, as Geraniums, seem to be called by names that do not belong to them, but to quite a different flower. I notice, both in your letter-press and advertisement, mention made of Zonal Pelargoniums; now I should certainly decline to receive Geraniums if I ordered Pelargoniums. I am old enough to remember that we had a parti-colored green-house flower of a violet shape that was called a Geranium, then came a lot of hardy-bedding-out stuff with a truss of red flowers, all of one color, followed by Tom Thumbs and Horseshoes which grow nicely out of door. Then we were told that we must no longer call those green-house plants Geraniums, that their right and proper name was Pelargoniums, and that those bedding-out plants were, strictly speaking, Geraniums. Now, however, the old name Geranium seems to be dropped for both, and the new name Pelargonium given to both, surely erroneously! Let us, however, have it fairly settled which is which, so that we may clearly and distinctly know what we are talking about, and not make mistakes either in writing or talking, in sending to shows, or in ordering plants."—James Richard Haig, Blair Hill, Sterling.
We will now give a part of a lecture delivered last spring before a Pelargonium Society in London, by Shirley Hibberd, a delightful writer on Horticulture, says Mr. Vick, from whose magazine we quote the following:
"A Pelargonium is not a Geranium, although often so called. The true Geraniums are for the most part herbaceous plants inhabiting the northern hemisphere, and the Pelargoniums are for the most part shrubby or sub-shrubby plants of the southern hemisphere. Let us for a moment wander among the pleasant slopes of Darley dale in Derbyshire, or by the banks of the Clyde or the Calder. We shall in either case be rewarded by seeing vast sheets of the lovely meadow Crane's Bill, Geranium pratense, a true Geranium, and one of the sweetest flowers in the world. In the rocky recesses of Ashwood Dale, or on the banks of the 'bonny Doon,' we may chance to see in high summer a profusion of the Herb Robert, Geranium Robertianum, with pink flowers and purple leaves, a piece of true vegetable jewelry. And, once more, I invite you to an imaginary journey, and we will ride by rail from Furness to Whitehaven, in order to behold on the railway bank, more especially near St. Bees, a wonderful display of the crimson Crane's Bill, Geranium sanguineum, which from July to September, forms solid sheets, often of a furlong in length, of the most resplendent color. No garden coloring can even so much as suggest the power of this plant as it appears at a few places on the Cumberland coast; even the sheets of scarlet poppies we see on badly cultivated corn lands are as nothing compared with these masses of one of the most common and hardiest of our wild flowers.
"Now let us fly to the other side of the globe and alight in the vicinity of the Cape of Good Hope, say on the vast desert of Karroo, where there is much sand, much sunshine, and little rain. Here, in the midst of desolation, the world is rich with flowers, for the healthy shrub that occurs in patches, glowing with many bright hues, consists in part of wild Pelargoniums, which often take the form of miniature deciduous trees, although in the valleys, nearer the coast, where more rain falls, they are evergreen bushes.
"Very different in their character are these two tribes of plants, and they are not less different in their constitution and aspects. We may regard the Geraniums as herbs of Europe, and the Pelargoniums as miniature trees of Africa. When we examine the flowers, we find the fine petals of a true Geranium of precisely the same shape and size; but the fine petals of a Pelargonium are not so, for sometimes the topmost are the largest, and stand apart from the rest with great dignity, like mother and father looking down on their dutiful daughters, and in other cases they are the smallest, suggesting that the daughters have grown too fast and become unmanageable. The florists are doing their utmost to obliterate the irregularity of the petals of the Pelargonium, and in this respect to convert Pelargoniums into Geraniums, but the conversion will not be complete until much more wonderful things are accomplished. A Geranium has ten stamens, and a Pelargonium has only seven (perfect ones). These numbers are not constant, but the exceptions are of no consequence in a general statement of the case.
"When all is said that can be said about the differences and resemblances of the several genera of Geraniaceæ, there remains only one constant and unfailing test of a true Pelargonium, and that is the nectariferous tube immediately below the flower, and running down one side of the flower-stalk. If you hold the pedicel up to the light, it may be discerned as giving an indication of a double flower-stalk, but when dissected with a pin or the point of a knife, it is found to proceed from the base of the largest of the green sepals, and it often appears to form a sort of digit or point in the line of the pedicel. When you have mastered this part of the story, you may cherish the idea that you know something about Pelargoniums.
"The large flowered show varieties and the large-flowered single Zonals take the lead, and they are pleasantly followed by a crowd of ivy-leaved, double-flowered and variegated sorts that are useful and beautiful. The Pelargonium Society has set up a severe standard of judging, and a variety must be distinct and good to pass through the sieve. Moreover the raising of varieties has been to a great extent reduced to scientific principles, and we obtain as a result new characters suggestive of the great extent of the field that still lies open to the adventurous spirit in cross-breeding. No one in recent years has contributed more directly toward the scientific treatment of the subject than our own painstaking Treasurer, Dr. Denny, of whose labors I propose to present a hasty sketch.
"Dr. Denny commenced the raising of Pelargoniums in the year 1866, having in view to ascertain the influence of parentage, and thus to establish a rule for the selection of varieties for seed-bearing purposes. In raising varieties with variegated leaves, as also with distinct and handsome flowers, he found the pollen parent exercised the greatest influence on the offspring. The foundation of his strain of circular-flowered Zonals was obtained by fertilizing the large starry flowers of Leonidas with pollen taken from the finely formed flowers of Lord Derby. From 1871 to the present time Dr. Denny has sent out sixty varieties, and he has in the same period raised and flowered, and destroyed about 30,000. These figures show that when the selection is severe, and nothing is allowed to pass that is not of the highest quality, there must be 500 seedlings grown for the chance of obtaining one worth naming."
We have devoted a good deal of space to this citation because of its interest and value on the question at issue. Mr. Hibberd has, we think, made the matter very clear, and conclusive it must be to the most of minds. Pelargoniums are divided into classes, though we rarely see any classifications of them in the catalogues.
REGAL PELARGONIUMS
Are comparatively a new type, and from the fact of their having more scalloped petals, somewhat approaching a double; they retain their petals instead of shedding them as do the single show flowers. The Beauty of Oxton and Queen Victoria, novelties of very recent introduction, belong to this class. We had them in bloom last year and thought them very fine. The Beauty of Oxton has the upper petals of a very rich maroon color, darkly blotched; under petals very dark crimson, shaded with maroon; light center tinted with rose. All the petals are attractively and regularly margined with white and beautifully fringed. The flowers are large and the extra number of petals gives them the appearance of being semi-double.