Horticultural Hall.
Pansies and violets! Sunflowers and forget-me-nots!! Rhododendrons and daffodils!!! Buttercups and dahlias!!!! Never, never, never, had such a thing been seen before. Every plant and every flower was labelled with its name and peculiarity, just like the women we had left. In some cases this did very well, in others it did very ill. Take, for instance, a single section—nay, but a small portion of the section, the hyacinth department, and see what hurt our feelings.
“Amy; dazzling carmine, large spike.”
“Duchess of Richmond; rose color; fine truss.”
“Mr. Macaulay; light green, thin, large truss, watery.”
“Maria Theresa; striped; perfect form.”
“Madame De Talleyrand; pure, large compact truss, extra fine bell.”
“Mrs. Beecher Stowe; very showy spike.”
“Anna Paulowna; deep; pure white eye, large truss,” and so on.
We know nothing whatever about either spike or truss, but we did not like this publicity of description one bit. Now, “Diebitsch Sabalkansky; brilliant carmine, late,” nobody cares about. It makes no difference to anybody save his wife, whether Mr. Sabalkansky is early or late in his habits; but to have the heroines of our dreams, like Mrs. Beecher Stowe and Anna Paulowna, ticketed so slightingly, was more than we could bear with equanimity.