As we have seen by Mr. Hibberd's address, the Pelargonium's native home is on arid plains where there is much sand, much sunshine and little rain, so that they are chiefly dependent on heavy dews for moisture. To plant them in heavy soil, give them a sheltered situation and liberal and frequent watering, would be a mode of treatment directly the reverse of what they require. In the cultivation of all plants we should as far as possible adapt them to their native conditions. One skilled amateur says his rule is to let the earth in the pots become thoroughly dry before watering, and always to give a period of rest after blooming. Another, a lady, said she never had any success with Pelargoniums until she gave them a heavy period of rest after blooming. In the spring, when putting her plants out of doors, she laid the pots containing Pelargoniums on their sides, and let them remain perfectly dry until fall. She then took the plants out of the pots, shook the soil from the roots, and scrubbed them well with a hard brush and water. The old-looking roots were cut off and the top trimmed down to six or eight inches in height. They were then repotted in rich earth and watered very moderately till they started into full growth, and after that more freely. With this treatment they never fail to bloom.
A young physician who raised many extraordinarily fine varieties of Pelargoniums from seed, in stating his mode of culture, said that his practice was to re-pot large plants whenever they seemed in danger of being pot-bound. The mold he used was made up of black earth from under a manure heap, and a little stiff clay to retain the water. After the plants were done flowering, they were trimmed rather close, and with regard to probable places of sprouting. They were then placed in partial shade, and all shoots found straying out of symmetry were pinched off. His large plants were kept moist till after bloom, and then rather dry.—Floral Cabinet.
We have given these methods so that if not successful with one, another can be adopted.
LINES ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER?
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook;
The purple petals fallen in the pool,
Made the black waters with their beauty gay,—
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the marsh and sky,
Dear, tell them, that if eyes were made for seeing,
Then beauty is its own cause for being.
Why thou wert there, O rival of the Rose!
I never thought to ask; I never knew,
But in my simple ignorance suppose
The selfsame Power that brought me there, brought you.
Ralph Waldo Emerson.