In the present decade the Bermuda Lily (L. longiflorum) is almost exclusively forced for the Easter trade, and popularly known as the "Easter Lily." Its cultivation for that April festival has now become one of the established industries of that lovely clime. The bulbs—there grown in wide flowery fields—are, early in autumn, received by our florists and directly potted for the Easter harvest.
A lady passing the winter in Bermuda brought from that island some bulbs of L. longiflorum, which finally coming into the possession of Mr. H. K. Harris of Philadelphia, he honored the flower by bestowing upon it his own name, and as L. Harrisii, brought it into prominent notice among our florists, who now force it for Easter-time. The Bermuda-grown bulbs are preferred by them to the Dutch-grown ones, as they are earlier ripened and come into bloom quicker.
For myself I prefer the Madonna, with its more open flower, to the trumpet-like Bermuda. It is, too, an old acquaintance, has a more delicate odor, and hangs its sprays more gracefully. The Bermuda needs much coaxing to live through our bleak Northern winters, but the Candidum is absolutely hardy.
The Madonna holds to her corner with the tenacity of a family cat—she is a long time settling herself in a "strange garret."
Mine had undergone the vicissitude of three moving days before settling in their present quarters. I distributed them well through my sunniest border. Their next neighbors were some elderly Bee Larkspurs. The first and second year the lovely blue Delphiniums did most of the blooming.
After that the Lilies and Larkspurs punctually celebrated together the "great and glorious Fourth"—the tall Madonnas (some years in throngs of two hundred) leading the fair procession—the Larkspurs like swarms of blue butterflies flitting about among the snow of the lilies. Then, for a time, every friend in the neighborhood had a dainty spray of summer lilies for decorative uses. Finally, it befell that the coarser perennials elbowed the lilies too closely. They grew chary of bloom, and sometimes the bulbs quite gave up the struggle for existence. Then it was that, calling in the aid of "The Man with the Hoe," I made for my "Queen Lilies" a new home, with better drainage.
The Madonna after her July flowering takes a rest. Her favorite moving day is about the last of July.
I have not an extensive knowledge of lily-culture, having but few varieties of this lovely plant in my garden.
All, excepting the Japanese (Lilium auratum) take kindly to my borders, and "increase an hundred fold." My list includes a few plants of the Japanese found here in the purlieus of the old "burglar barricade." I am indebted to Mrs. Ely for this information in regard to L. auratum: "As soon as planted in this country a microbe disease attacks the bulb and they gradually disappear under its ravages." This, no doubt, accounts for the unhealthy appearance of my few L. auratums, their scant tale of blossoms, and their sad tendency, year by year, to "grow beautifully less." America, after all, is but the step-mother of this charming flower, and Nature somewhat repudiates this much calumniated tie.