CHAPTER XX.

The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Peggy went up to her own room to pack for her visit to the Larches. The long dress box, which had been stored away ever since its arrival, was brought out and its contents displayed to an admiring audience, consisting of Mrs. Asplin, Esther, Mellicent, and Mary the housemaid.

Everything was there that the heart of girl could desire, and a mother’s forethought provide for her darling’s use when she was far away. A dress of cobweb Indian muslin embroidered in silk, a fan of curling feathers, a dear little satin pocket in which to keep the lace handkerchief, rolls of ribbons, dainty white shoes, with straggly silk stockings rolled into the toes.

Peggy displayed one article after another, while Mellicent groaned and gurgled with delight, Mary exclaimed, “My, Miss Peggy, but you will be smart!” and Mrs. Asplin stifled a sigh at the thought of her own inferior preparations.

Punctually at ten o’clock the carriage drove up to the door, and off Peggy drove, not altogether unwillingly, now that it had come to the pinch, for after all it _is_ pleasant to be appreciated, and when a great excitement is taking place in the neighbourhood, it is only human to wish to be in the thick of the fray.

Lady Darcy welcomed her guest with gracious kindness, and as soon as she had taken off her hat and jacket in the dressing-room which was allotted to her use, she was taken straight away to the chief room, where the work of decoration was being carried briskly forward. The village joiner was fitting mirrors into the corners and hammering with deafening persistence, a couple of gardeners were arranging banks of flowers and palms, and Rosalind stood in the midst of a bower of greenery, covered from head to foot in a smock of blue linen and with a pair of gardening gloves drawn over her hands.

She gave a little cry of relief and satisfaction as Peggy entered.

“Oh, Mawiquita, so glad you have come! Mother is so busy that she can’t be with me at all, and these wretched bwanches pwick my fingers! Do look wound, and say how it looks! This is really the servants’ hall, you know, as we have not a pwoper ballroom, and it is so square and high that it is perfectly dweadful to decowate! A long, narrow woom is so much better!”

Peggy thought the arrangements tasteful and pretty; but she could not gush over the effect, which, in truth, was in no way original or striking. There seemed little to be done in the room itself, so she suggested an adjournment into the outer hall, which seemed to offer unique opportunities.

“That space underneath the staircase!” she cried eagerly. “Oh, Rosalind, we could make it look perfectly sweet with all the beautiful Eastern things that you have brought home from your travels! Let us make a little harem, with cushions to sit on, and hanging lamps, and Oriental curtains for drapery. We could do it while the men are finishing this room, and be ready to come back to it after lunch.”

“Oh, what a sweet idea! Mawiquita, you are quite too clever!” cried Rosalind, aglow with pleasure. “Let us begin at once. It will be ever so much more intewesting than hanging about here.”

She thrust her hand through Peggy’s arm as she spoke, and the two girls went off on a tour through the house to select the most suitable articles for their decoration of the “harem.” There was no lack of choice, for the long suite of reception rooms was full of treasures, and Peggy stopped every few minutes to point with a small forefinger and say, “That screen, please! That table! That stool!” to the servants who had been summoned in attendance. The smaller things, such as ornaments, table-cloths, and lamps she carried herself, while Rosalind murmured sweetly, “Oh, don’t twouble! You mustn’t, weally! Let me help you!” and stood with her arms hanging by her side, without showing the faintest sign of giving the offered help.

As the morning passed away, Peggy found indeed that the Honourable Miss Darcy was a broken reed to lean upon in the way of assistance. She sat on a stool and looked on while the other workers hammered, and pinned, and stitched—so that Peggy’s prophecy as to her own subordinate position was exactly reversed, and the work of supervision was given entirely into her hands.

It took nearly two hours to complete the decorations of the “harem,” but, when all was finished, the big, ugly space beneath the staircase was transformed into as charming a nook as it is possible to imagine. Pieces of brilliant flag embroidery from Cairo draped the further wall, a screen of carved work shut out the end of the passage, gauzy curtains of gold and blue depended in festoons from the ascending staircase and stopped just in time to leave a safe place for a hanging lamp of wrought iron and richly-coloured glass. On the floor were spread valuable rugs and piles of bright silken cushions, while on an inlaid table stood a real Turkish hookah and a brass tray with the little egg-shaped cups out of which travellers in the East are accustomed to sip the strong black coffee of the natives.

Peggy lifted the ends of her apron in her hands and executed a dance of triumph on her own account when all was finished, and Rosalind said, “Weally, we have been clever! I think we may be proud of ourselves!” in amiable effusion.

The two girls went off to luncheon in a state of halcyon amiability which was new indeed in the history of their acquaintance, and Lady Darcy listened with an amused smile to their rhapsodies on the subject of the morning’s work, promising faithfully not to look at anything until the right moment should arrive and she should be summoned to gaze and admire.

By the time that the workers were ready to return to the room, the men had finished the arrangements at which they had been at work before lunch, and were beginning to tack festoons of evergreens along the walls, the dull paper of which had been covered with fluting of soft pink muslin. The effect was heavy and clumsy in the extreme, and Rosalind stamped her foot with an outburst of fretful anger.

“Stop putting up those wreaths! Stop at once! They are simply hideous! It weminds me of a penny weading in the village school-woom! You might as well put up ‘God save the Queen’ and ‘A Mewwy Chwistmas’ at once! Take them down this minute, Jackson! I won’t have them!”

The man touched his forehead, and began pulling out the nails in half-hearted fashion.

“Very well, miss, as you wish. Seems a pity, though, not to use ’em, for it took me all yesterday to put ’em together. It’s a sin to throw ’em away.”

“I won’t have them in the house if they took you a week!” Rosalind replied sharply, and she turned on her heel and looked appealingly in Peggy’s face. “It’s a howwid failure! The woom looks so stiff and stwaight—like a pink box with nothing in it! Mother won’t like it a bit. What can we do to make it better?”

Peggy scowled, pursed up her lips, pressed her hand to her forehead, and strode up and down the room, rolling her eyes from side to side, and going through all the grimaces of one in search of inspiration. Rosalind was right; unless some device were found by which the shape of the room could be disfigured, the decorations must be pronounced more or less a failure. She craned her head to the ceiling, and suddenly beamed in triumph.

“I have it! The very thing! We will fasten the garlands to that middle beam, and loop up the ends at intervals all round the walls. That will break the squareness and make the room look like a tent, with a ceiling of flowers.”

“Ah-h!” cried Rosalind; and clasped her hands with a gesture of relief. “Of course! The vewy thing! We ought to have thought of it at the beginning. Get the ladder at once, Jackson, and put in a hook or wing, or something to hold the ends, and be sure that it is strong enough. What a good thing that the weaths are weady. You see, your work will not be wasted after all.”

She was quite gracious in her satisfaction, and for the next two hours she and Peggy were busily occupied superintending the hanging of the evergreen wreaths and in arranging bunches of flowers to be placed at each point where the wreaths were fastened to the wall. At the end of this time, Rosalind was summoned to welcome the distinguished visitors who had arrived by the afternoon train. She invited Peggy to accompany her to the drawing-room, but in a hesitating fashion, and with a glance round the disordered room, which said, as plainly as words could do, that she would be disappointed if the invitation were accepted, and Peggy, transformed in a moment into a poker of pride and dignity, declared that she would prefer to remain where she was until all was finished.

“Well, it weally would be better, wouldn’t it? I will have a tway sent in to you here, and do, Mawiquita, see that evewything is swept up and made tidy at once, for I shall bring them in to look wound diwectly after tea, and we must have the wooms tidy!”

Rosalind tripped away, and Peggy was left to herself for a lonely and troublesome hour. The tea-tray was brought in and she was just seating herself before an impromptu table, when up came a gardener to say that one of “these ’ere wreaths seemed to hang uncommon near the gas bracket. It didn’t seem safe like.” And off she went in a panic of consternation to see what could be done. There was nothing for it but to move the wreath some inches further away, which involved moving the next also, and the next, and the next, so as to equalise the distances as much as possible, and by the time that they were settled to Peggy’s satisfaction, lo, table and tray had been whisked out of sight by some busy pair of hands, and only a bare space met her eyes. This was blow number one, for after working hard all afternoon, tea and cake come as a refreshment which one would not readily miss. She cheered herself, however, by putting dainty finishing touches here and there, seeing that the lamp was lighted in the “harem” outside, and was busy placing fairy lamps among the shrubs which were to screen the band, when a babel of voices from outside warned her that the visitors were approaching. Footsteps came nearer and nearer, and a chorus of exclamations greeted the sight of the “harem.” The door stood open, Peggy waited for Rosalind’s voice to call and bid her share the honours, but no summons came. She heard Lady Darcy’s exclamation, and the quick, strong tones of the strange Countess.

“Charming, charming; quite a stroke of genius! I never saw a more artistic little nook. What made you think of it, my dear?”

“Ha!” said Peggy to herself, and took a step forward, only to draw back in dismay, as a light laugh reached her ear, followed by Rosalind’s careless—

“Oh, I don’t know; I wanted to make it pwetty, don’t you know; it was so dweadfully bare, and there seemed no other way.”

Then there was a rustle of silk skirts, and the two ladies entered the room, followed by their respective daughters, Rosalind beautiful and radiant, and the Ladies Berkhampton with their chins poked forward, and their elbows thrust out in ungainly fashion. They paused on the threshold and every eye travelled up to the wreath-decked ceiling. A flush of pleasure came into Lady Darcy’s pale cheeks, and she listened to the Countess’s compliments with sparkling eyes.

“It is all the work of this clever child,” she said, laying her hand fondly on Rosalind’s shoulder. “I have had practically nothing to do with the decorations. This is the first time I have been in the room to-day, and I had no idea that the garlands were to be used in this way. I thought they were for the walls.”

“I congratulate you, Rosalind! You are certainly very happy in your arrangements,” said the Countess cordially. Then she put up her eyeglass and stared inquiringly at Peggy, who stood by with her hair fastened back in its usual pig-tail, and a big white apron pinned over her dress.

“She thinks I am the kitchen-maid!” said Peggy savagely to herself; but there was little fear of such a mistake, and the moment that Lady Darcy noticed the girl’s presence, she introduced her kindly enough, if with somewhat of a condescending air.

“This is a little friend of Rosalind’s who has come up to help. She is fond of this sort of work,” she said; then, before any of the strangers had time to acknowledge the introduction, she added hastily, “And now I am sure you must all be tired after your journey, and will be glad to go to your rooms and rest. It is quite wicked of me to keep you standing. Let me take you upstairs at once!”

They sailed away with the same rustle of garments, the same babel of high-toned voices, and Peggy stood alone in the middle of the deserted room. No one had asked her to rest, or suggested that she might be tired; she had been overlooked and forgotten in the presence of the distinguished visitor. She was only a little girl who was “fond” of this sort of work, and, it might be supposed, was only too thankful to be allowed to help. The house sank into silence. She waited for half an hour longer in the hope that someone would remember her presence, and then, tired, hungry, and burning with repressed anger, crept upstairs to her own little room and fell asleep upon the couch.

(_To be continued._)

OUR LILY GARDEN.

PRACTICAL AIDS TO THE CULTURE OF LILIES.

BY CHARLES PETERS.

The first group of lilies, “Cardiocrinum,” contains but two lilies. These two plants strongly resemble each other but are both totally different from any other species.

Many years ago, long before we ever dreamed of growing lilies ourselves, we first made acquaintance with the magnificent _Lilium Giganteum_.

We had been walking all day in the south of Hertfordshire, and as evening was approaching we turned to retrace our steps. But the district was new to us, and we found that we had wandered many miles from our path. We looked about us for someone of whom to ask our way, but the road was deserted save for ourselves. We trudged onwards for about a mile, and seeing a cottage a short way ahead, we determined to ask our way of one of its inhabitants.

It was about eight o’clock in the evening of a broiling hot day in the beginning of July. We opened the gate, approached the house, and knocked at the door. But the house was apparently empty, for our knock was unheeded and there was no sign nor sound of any person in the house. We knocked again, but this summons also being futile, we walked round the house and entered the back garden. It was a beautiful garden, one of those old gardens in which flowers have been cultivated for centuries, and in which the most beautiful of garden-plants seem as much at home as do the weeds in our country lanes.

But it was not the flowers, nor the well-kept lawn, which arrested our attention. On turning round the house we had become aware of an intense fragrance not unlike that of the lily of the valley, but many times more powerful. We glanced around to discover what plant it was which exhaled this perfume, and for a few minutes we were unable to discover it. But on turning our gaze towards the opposite corner of the garden, we saw a magnificent clump of the giant lily under the shade of three tall lime-trees. There were five spikes, the shortest of which was over five feet high, each surmounted with from ten to twelve blossoms like bells of shining wax.

We approached the spot and stood admiring this glorious plant for many minutes. But the remembrance that we had lost our way was gradually forced upon us, and we left the lilies, filled with an admiration for them which will never tarnish. We found no one in the garden, but eventually we discovered the right way home.

The next year we tried to find this cottage and revisit the lilies, but we have never to this day been able to find it.

We did not again behold this wonderful lily till July, 1898, when we flowered a single one in our own garden. This specimen did not exceed four feet in height, but it matured nine perfect blossoms.

The _Lilium Giganteum_, the giant lily of the Himalayas may well stand at the head of the genus. Its blossoms are perhaps not so fine as those of some other species, but in foliage, in growth and in fragrance it is second to none.

The bulb of this species is about the size of a very large cocoa-nut, but varies considerably in size according to whether it is going to flower the next season or not. The bulb consists of few scales, which are large, fibrous, and of a dark russet hue. The tops of the scales have a rotten-looking appearance. The bulb is very compact, hard and heavy.

About the middle of March the plant begins to show above ground. Its appearance after this varies considerably. If it is not going to flower it puts up a large mass of fine, deep, glossy green leaves, which somewhat resemble those of the White Arum. These leaves are heart-shaped, very glossy, many-nerved and distinctly stalked. The lily will probably repeat this process next year, and perhaps the next too; but if it has been well attended to, in the third or fourth year it will put up a flower-spike. When the stem first shows it has an appearance very similar to a small lettuce. It grows very rapidly and attains its full height about the beginning of July.

When full grown this lily has a very noble appearance. Its stem is from four to fourteen feet high, perfectly straight and gradually tapering from its base, where it is one to three inches in diameter, to its top, which narrows almost to a point.

Three distinct forms of leaves are borne on this stem. The lower ones resemble the leaves sent up in the non-flowering years. The upper leaves are smaller, less heart-shaped and with stalks. The third set of leaves, the bracts, enclose the flower buds. These are simple sessile leaves which fall off when the flowers open.

The flowers vary in number from four to twenty. They are borne directly on the stem, without separate stalks. They are from six to nine inches long, of a pure white externally, slightly tinged with green near their attachments. Inside they are creamy white, with a broad streak of a rich claret colour down the centre of each petal. The pollen is yellow. The scent of this lily is intensely fragrant and almost overpowering. The seeds are flat and triangular with broad membranous wings.

The tips of the perianth are very slightly reflexed. In most drawings of this lily the flowers are made to look like those of _L. Longiflorum_, but they are quite different, being long and narrow, with very slightly reflexed petals and sepals.

It is often said in books that the bulb of this lily dies after once flowering, but this is not correct. The central part of the bulb does rot, but two or three small bulblets are left at its margin, which will in favourable circumstances grow and eventually flower.

This lily is a native of the Himalayas growing at a height of five to ten thousand feet above the sea-level.

The cultivation of this lily presents some difficulties, but surely it is worth while to give a little trouble to grow such a superb plant? We very rarely see it in cultivation, but in our garden it shall always find a home.

A plant growing in such a robust manner as this lily is not suitable for a flower-bed. It should be grown by itself in a shady nook. A clump of two or three looks very lovely, and it is possible to arrange matters so as to have at least one flowering spike every year.

It is not quite hardy, except in our southern counties, but it rarely needs more protection than a heap of bracken or other litter thrown over it in the winter.

If you wish to grow this lily, choose a suitable spot and dig out the earth to the depth of four feet. Fill in with a mixture of strong loam, decayed leaf mould and the remains of a hot-bed. To this add a little peat and plenty of sharp sand. The plant is a gross feeder and literally revels in “muck.” An occasional drenching with liquid manure is often very helpful. It requires large quantities of water during the growing period.

Resembling _L. Giganteum_ so closely that formerly it was considered as a variety of that plant, but vastly inferior in every way, _L. Cordifolium_ is the only other lily possessing heart-shaped leaves.

The bulb of _L. Cordifolium_ is like that of _L. Giganteum_, but is scarcely a fourth the size.

Its leaves also resemble those of _L. Giganteum_, but the base leaves are not so numerous, and the lower ones are congregated into a whorl. The upper leaves are irregularly scattered. The lowest leaves are curiously marked with a deep mahogany hue, which is never present in those of _L. Giganteum_, and which helps to distinguish between the two plants. The leaves are even more cordate than are those of _L. Giganteum_, especially the lower ones which form a very tolerable image of the “artistic” heart.

The stem grows to about three or four feet high, and bears at its summit from two to six flowers somewhat like those of _L. Giganteum_, but smaller, poorer, and marked on the inside with brown rather than claret-colour. The flowers open wider than do those of _L. Giganteum_, and are incomparably less beautiful. This lily is a native of Japan and China.

It is decidedly a scarce lily, and is exceedingly difficult to flower. We have not succeeded in flowering it ourselves, but a solitary bulb that we possess sent up last summer a fair crop of its curious leaves.

This plant would look well in a mass grown in much the same way as _L. Giganteum_, but we have never tried it in the ground, and so cannot speak from experience in this particular.

Altogether it is so far inferior to _L. Giganteum_, more difficult to grow and much less effective that we do not recommend its culture to any but enthusiasts. It is not a hardy lily and requires some protection in winter. It begins to send up its leaves very early in spring, and these must be protected at this season from frosts, and later from the wind and sun.

Both _L. Giganteum_ and _L. Cordifolium_ can be grown in pots, but the great size of the former and comparative poorness of the latter render both unsuitable for this form of culture.

_Eulirion_—beautiful lily! What an appropriate name for the superb plants contained in this group! Beautiful lilies they are indeed, beautiful in shape, in colour and in scent! What flowers will you compare with the members of this group? None of the priceless orchids or choice stove plants are anything like so beautiful as these misunderstood and grossly neglected lilies!

First among the _Eulirions_ stands _L. Longiflorum_ and its many varieties. This together with _L. Formosanum_, _L. Philippinense_, _L. Wallichianum_ and _L. Neilgherrense_ form a group of plants having many characteristics in common, and all very different from the rest of the genus.

The lilies of this group are all low-growing, rarely exceeding four feet in height. The flowers which are white or pale yellow are usually solitary, but some varieties of _Lilium Longiflorum_ bear as many as five or six blossoms on each stem. The leaves are linear, smooth and numerous, scattered and are all similar. These lilies are natives of Western Asia.

_L. Longiflorum_, the most important member of the group named after it, is one of the best known and highly appreciated members of the genus. It is usually grown as a pot plant. But why? Why do we so rarely see this plant in the garden? Oh, it is so tender! It will not stand our winters! It dwindles so when grown in the open! Nonsense! This lily is perfectly hardy and is admirably suited to the open ground. But you do not do well with this plant because you will choose the only variety of it which cannot stand our climate.

To most persons _L. Longiflorum_ is synonymous with _L. Harrisii_. But the latter plant is only one form, and is a rather unsatisfactory form of _L. Longiflorum_. _L. Harrisii_ is a variety of _L. Longiflorum_ altered by having been grown in the tropical climate of Bermuda. It is a hardy lily rendered tender by coddling. It is undoubtedly a fine variety for the greenhouse, but it is nothing like so fine as some of the other forms of _L. Longiflorum_.

Although this lily is undoubtedly “long-flowered,” it hardly deserves the specific title of _Longiflorum_, for it is the least long-flowered of the five plants placed in the same group as itself.

The bulb of this lily presents no deviation from the typical bulb. Indeed it is the typical lily-bulb.

The great number of varieties of this lily, though all are somewhat similar, yet possess considerable differences in regard to their growth, the size and number of their flowers and their period of blossoming.

The variety _Harrisii_ is very fine. It flowers very early and produces three or four blossoms on each stem. The individual flowers are large and finely curved, but they are a little thin and green. When grown in the open, this variety sends up its shoots in February, and they are almost invariably killed by late frosts.

Another variety, called _Praecox_ is similar to _Harrisii_, but more hardy. It flowers in the open in June and July.

The majority of _Longiflorum_ bulbs received from Japan belong to the variety called, “_Giganteum_,” but the name is hardly appropriate, for this variety is not so large or fine as some others. For the flower-garden this variety is the most generally valuable. It is tall, robust, free-flowering, perfectly hardy and exceedingly cheap.

Last year we had a small hill-side covered with these lilies, and the effect was delightful. Although we cut several the bed was always gay with blossoms. They flowered in the beginning of August, producing from two to five flowers each, of a pure rich white, not greenish like the flowers of _Harrisii_, very large and sweet scented. They were not injured by a spell of three days’ rain which occurred in the middle of their flowering-time.

_L. Takesima_ is a late flowering _Longiflorum_. It can readily be distinguished from the other varieties by the purple tint of its stem and flower buds. It is very free-flowering; one of our spikes contained six blossoms, all of which were matured.

Of all the varieties of _Longiflorum_ none other is to be compared with that known as “_Wilsoni_” or “_Eximium_.” This is a perfectly lovely plant. As we are writing there is a specimen of this lily on the table before us. It is in a pot and is the result of a single bulb. There are eight blossoms, not one of which is aught but perfect. The blossoms are very long and possess the scent of lilac.

Among the other varieties of _L. Longiflorum_ which we have grown there is one which, as far as we are aware, is unnamed. We bought ten bulbs of “_Lilium Longiflorum, New Variety_,” at an auction for half-a-crown. Most of the bulbs produced fair but ordinary results; but one which was grown in a pot was quite different from any variety that we know. This bulb sent up two spikes, each bearing two blossoms, but unfortunately one spike was spoilt by green fly. The other matured its two flowers. They were very long, almost as long as those of _L. Philippinense_, that is, about nine inches long. They were pure white at their open end, but greenish towards their attachment. The petals were much longer than the sepals, but not so strongly curved. Whether this is the “new variety,” or is a bulb of _L. Formosanum_ or _Philippinense_ out of place, we cannot tell.

One of the finest plants for the table that we know, both when in flower and previously, is the variety of _L. Longiflorum_ with white-margined leaves. In this plant the centres of the leaves are an opaque pale green, and the margins are pure white. The buds show a similar colouration. Unlike most plants with variegated foliage, this lily has very fine blossoms of a dead white colour, but with curious transparent edges. Each bulb usually produces two flowers.

We cannot too strongly emphasise the extreme beauty of this species. Whether as cut flowers, in pots or in the garden, it is one of the loveliest of natural objects.

All lilies make good cut flowers and last well in water, but the _L. Longiflorum_ is _par excellence_ the lily for cutting. For all forms of floral decoration it is unrivalled, and of all flowers it is most suitable for church decoration.

During last July, on the occasion of an organ recital at our village church, we gathered a bunch of our lilies for decoration. There were about thirty flowers in all, chiefly _L. Longiflorum_ and _L. Brownii_. The effect of them was exceedingly pure and beautiful, and many persons, both cottagers and those possessing gardens far larger than our own, remarked upon the grace and elegance of the lilies. Yet every person in that church could have grown those lilies, and for a few shillings’ outlay the church could be decorated with lilies throughout the summer.

London florists have a pernicious habit of removing the anthers from their lilies, because they say that the pollen gets rubbed off and dirties the petals. It is a great mistake to disfigure a lily in this way. It utterly ruins the appearance of white lilies, for it robs them of the one particle of colour which is so much needed to set off the white of their perianth. If you are afraid of the pollen injuring the appearance of the lily, you can wrap the floral organs in tissue paper when the plants are being moved from one place to another. But do not spoil the flower. Anybody with the smallest appreciation for this plant would far rather see the white leaves covered with yellow dust than the lily mutilated by having its centre removed.

The cultivation of _L. Longiflorum_ presents but few difficulties. In the ground it needs a well-drained spot, but is not particular as to soil. A fairly rich soil is really the best for this lily, for in such soil it does not dwindle so much as it does in a light soil.

In some places where it is otherwise impossible to flower this plant, success may be obtained by growing it in a mixture of sand, peat, and leaf-mould, so light that the hand can easily be forced below the bulbs.

This lily is more often grown in pots than in the ground. In this case do not put three large bulbs into one small pot, as is so often done. The lilies must starve in such a prison, and though they may flower one year, they will not do so again.

You must grow lilies in large pots. It is often said that bulbs are smaller when they have grown a year in pots than they were when first planted. This is not true if plenty of room be given to the bulb to develop. It is only true when two or three bulbs have been cramped in a small pot not sufficiently large to grow one bulb properly. Our _Longiflorum_ bulbs grown in pots increase in size and produce numerous small bulblets.

It is unfortunately true that whether grown in pots or in the ground, _L. Longiflorum_ tends to degenerate. It blossoms well the first year, produces a wretched show the second year, and after that it fails to come up at all.

Now we think that the reasons for this are not beyond our powers to grapple with. In the first place the hardier varieties should be chosen. _L. Harrisii_ always dwindles because it is a tropical plant and will not grow in our cold clime. In the second place the bulbs should be dug up every second year, separated, and replanted in fresh soil.

After all, it is no great matter if this lily will not flower more than twice, for the bulbs are exceedingly cheap and readily procurable.

Last year we obtained some bulbs of a species of lily much resembling _L. Longiflorum_, from the island of Formosa. We planted one in a pot and the rest in the ground.

Unfortunately the former came to nothing, and as our garden is so full of lilies, we were rather at a loss to identify some species. One spike which we came to the conclusion belonged to this species was intermediate in form between the _Takesima_ variety of _L. Longiflorum_ and _L. Philippinense_, but its blossoms were smaller than those of either. If this is the true _L. Formosanum_, it is certainly but a variety of _L. Longiflorum_, and not a distinct species.

On the mountain slopes of the north of the Philippine Islands is found a lily of very great beauty and elegance. It has not long been cultivated in England, and even at the present day it is exceedingly rarely seen in this country. We have never possessed this lily; indeed we have only once seen it in flower, but the sight of it was sufficient to engender a determination to possess it at the earliest possibility.

_L. Philippinense_ is a low-growing lily, barely exceeding a foot in height. It never, to our knowledge, bears more than a solitary blossom, but that one blossom is so fine that its beauty makes ample recompense for the paucity of flowers.

The flower resembles that of _L. Longiflorum_, but is much longer and more tube-like. The specimen that we saw was eleven inches long. It is a very pale greenish-white, the apex of the tube being yellow. The petals are about an inch and a half longer than the sepals, and both petals and sepals are equally re-curved.

This lily, although a native of the tropics, should prove hardy in our southern countries, but it would be unwise to trust this rare lily out-of-doors. It is usually grown in a greenhouse, in a light sandy soil.

Of its cultivation we know nothing, as we have never ourselves possessed the plant.

The next lily is one of the most magnificent of the whole genus. It was discovered in the Himalayas by Hamilton in 1802, and twenty years later it was named in honour of Mr. Wallich, a great authority on lilies.

_Lilium Wallichianum_ is the finest of the long-flowered lilies. It grows to the height of four to six feet, with a brown glossy stem and numerous lanceolate leaves. It starts growing very late in the year, the shoots rarely appearing before July.

The flowers of this species are always solitary in the wild state; but in cultivation two blossoms are occasionally produced. The flowers are very large and long, the tubes slightly curved and the mouth widely dilated. Its colour is a rich cream, the interior of the tube being pale yellow. It is very fragrant.

This is one of the latest lilies to bloom, flowering usually towards the middle of October. It is hardy in our climate, but the flowers, owing to their lateness to open, are sometimes injured by early frosts. It forms a fine pot-plant and is an admirable occupant for the conservatory. But why do we so very rarely see this plant in the conservatory? Why cannot we have a change from the eternal _L. Harrisii_, the only lily people grow in their greenhouses? _L. Wallichianum_ is an infinitely finer plant, but it is almost totally neglected.

There is a variety of _L. Wallichianum_ in which the flowers are larger and of a pale primrose colour. It is known to gardeners by the name of _L. Wallichianum superbum_ or _sulphureum_. As we write this, we have before us a plant which bears two buds, but we rarely see more than a single flower on each stem.

This plant should be grown like _L. Longiflorum_, but it likes a somewhat richer soil. It must be watered. In its native land it has hot rain all through its growing season. In our climate, a dry July or August, the two months in which the plant grows most rapidly, kills it, and this is the reason why this lily is so very seldom grown. Be this lily in the ground or in a pot, it must be thoroughly saturated every day from the time that it first shows its spike, till the buds change from green to white. When this latter change has occurred, a copious drenching with liquid manure is of great service.

The last of the long-flowered lilies is _L. Neilgherrense_ from the Neilgherry hills. This plant resembles the last, but its flowers are longer and larger though not so fine in colour. This plant bears the longest flowers of any lily, extra fine examples being upwards of a foot long. This lily will not grow well out of doors and should be grown in a conservatory. It is a very difficult plant to manage. Amongst other things, it has a creeping stem, and if grown in a pot it often sends up a shoot which meanders about beneath the soil, and eventually visits the light through a drainage hole, totally exhausted by its subterranean peregrinations.

It is said that this lily should be grown in a black heavy loam and should be watered but sparingly; but we have not grown the plant ourselves, and so we cannot say if this treatment is likely to be successful.

The price of the bulbs of the last four lilies is very variable. All are rather difficult to obtain and are very rarely to be met with in good condition. If you can, you should get bulbs of established plants, for those imported are often ruined by their journey from the tropics. These lilies, though natives of tropical parts of India and Western Asia, grow upon the mountains, and are killed by the heat of the plains.

(_To be continued._)

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

STUDY AND STUDIO.

CLEM.—We have just received from Miss Porter (author of an article, “How to Help the Deaf,” in the February Part of THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER, 1898,) details of an interesting scheme. She has compiled a system of classes, which teach the art of lip-reading by correspondence; a new and, she ventures to think, an original idea, which has obtained the approval of distinguished medical men. As you wish to learn the art, we should advise you to write for full particulars, enclosing a stamped addressed envelope, to Miss Porter, Normandy Villa, Chapel Allerton, Leeds.

MISS PORTER.—We regret that we cannot print your article in full; but as you will observe in the preceding answer, we advise our readers to send to you direct if they are interested in obtaining particulars of your scheme.

NEMO.—The tune you enclose is very sweet and pleasing. It contains a few technical errors, _e.g._, the consecutive bass octaves in the first line, and the omission of the third in the chord (last bar but two) which gives a thin sound. You ought certainly to cultivate your talent by taking lessons in harmony.

GEISHA.—We have read the first chapter of your story. It is graphic, but you need to study the art of composition. Take this sentence—“The gentle breeze fluttering the ribbons of her pretty morning dress; the raven black hair, loosely coiled at the back of the well shaped head: her features were regular and delicately chiselled, and her eyes, which of deepest blue, were shaded by long black lashes.” The first two clauses of the sentence need a verb, though your third omission may be an oversight. The art of writing for the press needs study and practice, without which no one can hope to succeed.

LOVER OF LITERATURE.—Your letter is written in rather a stiff and childish hand, and you use bad ink. You will improve if you take pains.

ANXIOUS.—1. Your letter is a type of many that we are constantly receiving, and we refer you to a series of articles on “Self-Culture for Girls,” by Lily Watson, which will give some help. In a case such as yours, we should think it would be very desirable to join the National Home Reading Union (address, The Secretary, Surrey House, Victoria Embankment). And why should you not, as you suggest, study for some examination? Write for particulars to Dr. Keynes, Syndicate Buildings, Cambridge, or H. I. Gerrans, Esq., Clarendon Buildings, Oxford. We find it difficult to recommend you special books, as we know nothing of your age or attainments. Have you read Ruskin’s “Sesame and Lilies”; Tennyson’s “Idylls of the King”; Scott’s novels; histories of your own country and of English literature? This suggestion may do to begin with.—2. We think powders for the skin are best left alone. Prepared oatmeal is the least objectionable, and can be dusted off after use.

LAURA.—We should not consider the guitar too difficult an instrument for one with a fair knowledge of music to learn alone.

ONYX.—There is a Greek Correspondence Class which we have occasionally mentioned in this column. Address Miss Lilian Masters, Mount Avenue, Ealing. As for studying the language unaided, it is certainly a difficult task, yet it has been accomplished by others, and is worth attempting. Dr. W. Smith’s _Initia Græca_, Part I., is a good grammar; but if cheapness is an object, you will probably find a selection of Greek grammars for sale at a mere trifle in any second-hand book shop. A knowledge of Latin is not essential. Many thanks for your kind letter.

GIRLS’ EMPLOYMENTS.

WOULD-BE FLORIST (_Horticulture_).—To be trained in the Nurseries Department of the Horticultural College, Swanley, Kent, would occupy two years for the full course, and would cost not less than £70 a year for board, lodging and tuition. Girls who have done well during the course usually soon obtain posts. Some of these situations are as teachers of gardening at institutions, others as gardeners to private ladies or to lady gardeners. Teachers and gardener companions receive about 25s. a week with board and lodging. As ordinary gardeners they could not expect to receive more than the sum mentioned, with possibly an unfurnished cottage, but no board. Too few women have attempted to grow flowers as a means or livelihood for us to be able to say whether this kind of enterprise is to be recommended; but such success as may attend it will certainly only come to women who have some capital and a disposition to work indefatigably, denying themselves almost all social relaxation. Undoubtedly it is not a business for every girl.

IVY (_Needlework_).—Some of the large drapers employ ladies in the making of underlinen and children’s clothes. But we should think that in the district from which you write there must be numerous ladies who could employ a needlewoman in repairing and altering dresses. You had better advertise in the leading local paper.

DANISH GIPSY (_Editorial Secretaryship_).—Such positions are usually obtained by ladies who have a decided talent for journalism and are active, energetic, and well educated. You are certainly at least four years too young to hope for such an appointment now. But you had better be receiving such an education and training as would qualify you for a secretaryship of any kind when you are grown up. You should study French, German, English history and geography, composition, shorthand, type-writing and book-keeping. If you do all this, by the time you are nineteen or twenty you would have become one of those girls for whom employment societies have no difficulty in finding an engagement. There is no “writers’ union” so far as we are aware. It is possible that the Incorporated Society of Authors, the Institute of Journalists, or the Writers’ Club may be meant. You might find it helpful to join some amateur literary society.

MERMAID (_Stewardess_).—You should call at the offices of the Peninsular and Oriental and the Orient Steamships Companies, and inquire whether there is likely to be any vacancy for a stewardess. The companies, however, generally know of a good many suitable women for such positions. The duties of a stewardess, about which you inquire, are to wait on the lady passengers. A certain amount of experience in hospital nursing is regarded as a strong recommendation.

MISCELLANEOUS.

MARGERY inquires why four-wheeled cabs are called “Growlers.” It would be quite reasonable to attribute the name to the loud rumbling noise they make, their construction being of an inferior kind, and the windows ill-fitting. But it is also a fact that “to growl” is an early form of English to denote “to crawl,” and a “crawler” is a name applied to empty vehicles of either two or four wheels, the driver of which is seeking a “fare.” This term “growler” came into use about the year 1860.

H. E. B.—In Welsh, a double “l” is pronounced as if preceded by “th,” as “Thlandudno”; but the usual pronunciation of that name in English is “Llandidno.”

WATER-NYMPH.—In England, “Rosebud” would have been quite right in entertaining her sister’s friend till her return home; but in a foreign country it may be otherwise, and etiquette might require a young girl to retire from the room after proposing that he should await her sister’s return, and informing him of when it would be, or asking him for any message he might wish to leave. As to the infamous practice of “throwing vitriol in a person’s face,” it is for the purpose of blinding them and burning the face! It may be well to observe that the only way to prevent the burning of the skin from any accidental contact with vitriol, is to wipe it off quickly with a _dry_ cloth, and dust the place over with flour or chalk, and carefully avoid the touch of any liquid. In the case of the eyes, we fear nothing could be done, as they are wet.

ETHEL.—A girl is never “introduced to a gentleman”—it is the reverse. The man should find some remark to make to her, and she has only to reply. You should not say “Good evening” when introduced to each other, and certainly neither should say “I hope you are quite well.” All you have to do when a presentation is made, is to bow and smile pleasantly, and reply to whatever remark he may make, and then say something in the same connection.

T. N.—Wear gloves when going to dinner, or any evening reception or entertainment. When to a dinner, you remove them when you sit down to table. We can never promise the publication of an answer at any specified time, although it may be written at once, as the number to be answered is great, and all must await the finding of space.

ANXIOUS INQUIRER.—In the case you name, our Lord quoted a proverb (St. Matt. xxiv. 28), in explanation of which we will make a quotation from the _Annotated Paragraph Bible_, published at our office—“As quickly and surely as the vulture scents out the carcase, so quickly and surely will the ministers of vengeance find out a people ripe for destruction. Where then you see consummate wickedness, you may expect to see speedy and severe punishment.”

MOTHERLESS.—Your mourning, on both accounts, may be left off now. Your writing is very good. We cannot promise the immediate publication of our answers to correspondents.

MARGUERITE.—You write a nice hand, but you evidently write slowly. We thank you for your kindly expressed opinion of our paper.

PIANO.—If the keys of your piano have become (not “gone”) brown, rub them with fine “glass-paper,” and then with a chamois leather.

NANCY.—A lotion of one-third of sal volatile to two-thirds of water is good for mosquito bites; so also, it is said, is rubbing with a raw onion.

CURIOSITY.—It is by no means necessary that a clergyman, or pastor of any denomination, should ask a girl to work in his parish, or amongst the members of his congregation, previously to making her an offer of marriage!

INQUIRER.—From your description, we think the coin is a second issue of a gold seven-shilling-piece. It bears a laureated bust, facing to the right, and “_Georgivs III. Dei gratia_” on the obverse; and on the reverse, a crown with date below, from 1801 to 1813, encircled by the motto, “_Britanniarum Rex, Fidei Defensor_.” The value of these coins varies from 8s. 6d. to 12s. 6d.

B. S. and WATTLE BLOSSOM.—The mahogany sideboard is probably French-polished, and naturally this would show a white mark, were any heat applied to it. To French-polish again would remove the mark, but nothing else that we are aware of would do so. The hostess simply bows to her chief lady guest to indicate the time for rising from the dinner table.

SAMBO PENWIPERS AND HOW TO MAKE THEM.

Last week I was left for a whole afternoon to entertain a convalescent child. “No excitement, no tears, no _ennui_.” Such were the difficult directions left me. When the little girl’s mother returned after two hours’ absence she found her rules had been successfully obeyed. Vera was blissfully happy and quietly content. On the table, across her sofa, reposed a whole Sambo family, in the creation of which the afternoon had passed quickly and quietly away.

As the task of amusing children is one ever present with a true woman, I just tell our readers how the Sambos were made.

I had in my work-basket a twopenny cut of Berlin wool, a skein of scarlet ditto costing one half-penny and a large darning needle.

The black skein I divided into three parts (Fig. 1). The double ends were to make the larger figures. The centre piece divided into two small ones.

Taking one looped end, I tied a twist of wool tightly round it, one inch lower down I tied another ligature. From either side, two arms were detached and wrists defined. Then, a two-inch body was developed by a belt. The remaining wool was left loose for Mrs. Sambo’s skirt. But, to represent the father of the family, the strands were once more divided and ankles outlined.

Hair was made by simply cutting the top twist and trimming it. Hands and feet were equally carefully snipped. The finishing touch must be given with our scarlet wool. Eyes, nose, mouth, wristlets, waist, neck-ribbon and buttons, are all of this vivid hue.

Perhaps the baby Sambos are quaintest of all. Just half the size of their parents with little knots of woolly curls, and tiny frizzy hands.

Not the least part of Vera’s delight in her family was the fact that they are all really _penwipers_. Months after the little girl was running about well and jolly. The Sambos did duty on every writing-table in the house, and the four of them only cost twopence half-penny.

A MORE ELABORATE SAMBO.

These fascinating little mannikins have the advantage of being novel, cheap to make, and very attractive at bazaars, where they sell easily for one shilling each, the cost of making being on an average threepence a-piece.

The materials required are single Berlin wool, black, scarlet and white, some yellow “topaz jewels,” and a little glittering tinsel or strings of bright beads. A quarter of a pound (one packet) of black Berlin wool makes four men, while the same quantity of scarlet and white equips a whole army, as less of these is used. I utilised the “jewels” and trimmings from two old evening dresses of mine, and in these days of sequin and jewelled passementerie most girls would have some by them without needing to buy.

Now as to the making. You take a twopenny or ounce skein of the black Berlin and divide it in half. You next take one half and double it, cutting one end through so that it consists of loose ends of wool, which will presently stand for feet and toes. This is the length of the mannikin. Tie a piece of scarlet wool several times firmly round the middle so as to form a waist. Now take up the other half of the black skein and double it till it is the right length for the arms of the warrior. You cut through both ends of these so as to suggest multitudinous fingers.

Having got so far, wind some scarlet wool round your hand twelve or fourteen times. Now take up the black wool that is tied round the middle; divide the uncut end with your fingers (so as to get an equal quantity of black loops on each side), and insert the scarlet loops bodily in the opening thus made, so that they project at the top while they touch the “waist” inside at the bottom.

Next thread the black “arms” through the scarlet loops and the body at the waist line so that the arms stick out on each side just above the waist. Tie scarlet wool several times firmly round the whole thing midway between the top-knot and the waist to form a neck just above the “arms.” Close up the opening you made in the black wool at the top, and with a needle threaded with scarlet wool, work a few bold stitches right round the bottom of the scarlet tuft, thus securing the latter and forming a sort of coronet at the same time. This also serves to give some shape to the “head,” which should be as neat and rounded as possible. Cut the scarlet loops through so as to form a top-knot of ends.

Next take scarlet wool and tie it firmly round one of the arms at a sufficient distance from the ends to suggest a “wrist,” and wind the scarlet wool smoothly round and round towards the body (so that no black is seen beneath) until you have covered about half the arm, then finish off with a wool-needle so that the wool does not come unwound. Treat the other arm in the same way. The legs also are similarly made, the mass of wool below the “waist” being divided in equal halves and each leg done separately. The ends may have to be gently pulled down and trimmed a little so as to give more shapeliness to the limbs and body, but this must be done according to the artist’s taste and judgment.

Now comes the really fascinating part of the work. Thread a wool needle with scarlet Berlin and with this work on the “head” with a few bold stitches eye-brows, nose and open mouth. I generally found three stitches enough for one eye-brow, and the same number for the nose; but here again individual discretion comes into play.

Thread another needle with white Berlin and supply the aforesaid open mouth with pearly teeth which need not by any means be regular; indeed you can give “Fuzzy-Wuzzy” an endless variety of expressions according to the direction of your stitches.

Take two “topaz jewels” and stitch them firmly with black cotton under the eye-brows, and lastly stitch round his waist sufficient tinsel trimming to form a glittering belt.

You wipe your pen on him by the simple process of stabbing the implement into any part you happen to catch hold of first.

For bazaars you will find they look best stitched in some sort of order on a large sheet of white cardboard (an old dress-box or its lid does very well) with some inscription and the price printed in large letters over them, and a handle of red tape at the top to hang the cardboard up by.

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[Transcriber’s Note: The following changes have been made to this text:

Page 326: bicyling to bicycling—“hour’s bicycling”.]