GARDENING FOR THE MONTH. BY A PRACTICAL GARDENER. THE FLOWER GARDEN. THE GLADIOLI. In the economy of the flower garden the tulip and the rose have each their recognized place, but the gladiolus, though extensively grown, cannot as yet be said to have attained that position amongst flowers which its exquisite beauty and general usefulness merit. The varieties of gladiolus may be divided into two really important sections-summer and autumn flowering- ramosus and its seedlings representing the former, gandavensis and its seedlings the latter. The flowers of each are extremely beautiful, while the brilliancy and variety of their colours at once determine their importance and position for masses in the flower borders; planted alternately with roses, in large beds cut in the grass, or amongst rhododendrons and azaleas, the effective display produced by their long, brilliant, transparent spikes of bloom can hardly be conceived. When grouped in front of shrubs, the green background shows off their rich striking colours to great advantage. In suburban gardens they flower freely, their lively and brilliant-coloured flowers forming a pleasing contrast to the uninteresting mass of brick and mortar which encircles in and around London almost every little plot of ground we pleasingly associate with the name of garden. "JOLLY JUNE, arrayed all in green leaves as he a player were" begin to deck the garden in prodigal luxuriance, and each amateur of flowers who has the advantage of a garden is naturally turning his attention to their growth and cultivation. The parterres may now be planted with groups of fuchsias, calceolaria, petunia, Neapolitan violet, verbena, and masses of the scarlet and variegated geraniums. Propagate by cuttings China roses of every kind; plant them two joints deep in a shady situation: also calceolarias of the shrubby kind, Peruvian heliotrope, &c., by division of the roots, Neapolitan violet, placing them in beds of manured loam, twelve inches apart; the heart's-ease of the best varieties in shady situations, the soil rich loam and leaf mould These favourite prize flowers require a frequent renewal of soil; they dwindle if retained on one site, and degenerate to the condition of the poor weak flowers of former years. Propagate by slips lychnis, double rocket, and wall-flower; thin out the superabundant shoo's of asters, phlox, and, indeed, of every luxuriant herbaceous plant. Plant young side shoots of the best lobelias in shady borders under a hand-glass. The pipings of pinks placed in sandy earth are to be closely covered in the same way till completely rooted. Salpiglossis succeeds best in the open air; the plants should now be turned out of pots, and set in a dry border. Greenhouse plants may be arranged now on a northern aspect, the pots to stand on a deep stratu n of coal ashes. Azaleas, acacia, armata, and some other plants of the same kind, are greatly improved by being turned out of pots and planted with entire balls in an open peat border. We have now in flower the white jasmine, Guelder rose, Provence rose, Indian pink, Greek valerian, flaxinella. flamewort, honeysuckle, turkscap, dwarf | The ramosus varieties bloom in July and larkspur, sword lily, garden pink, sweet August; toe gandavensis in August and William, American bindweed, maiden pink, S ptember; and, wit a little management white and orange lily, Canterbury bells, in successional planting, even the months of rose campion, marvel of Peru, foxglove, October and November may be enlivened and the sweetbriar, now loading the air with the brilliant colours of this floral with its delicate fragrance. Where cut flowers are in demand for filling vases, &c., those of the gladiolus are unsurpassed, as in that state it retains its beau for two or three weeks. The French frequently adorn their flower borders, &c., with the cut spikes of the gladioli, by placing the cut end of the flower in a bottle of water, and plunging the bottle into the soil, so that the uninitiated suppose the flower to be growing. In beds where there is a deficiency of brilliant colours, a few spikes tre ted in this fashion would make them look charming. gem. ENGLISH IRIS. Among the many forms of floral beauty which adorn the flower borders in June, few assert their title to admiration more effectively than the English iris; the flowers are large and handsome, the colours extremely rich, varied, and beautiful. The height of the plant is from eighteen to twenty-four inches, while its cultivation is unusually simple, succeeding in any ordinary light rich garden soil. They should be planted in clumps of three or more, and if allowed to remain undisturbed, they will each succeeding year become more effective; or planted in rose or rhododendron beds they are most valuable. Time of planting and purchasing the same as that recommended for the hyacinth. MANAGEMENT OF FRUIT TREES. Look to the wall-trees. If the summer regulation of new shoots has not been attended to, it ought immediately to be performed. All shoots rising in an opposite direction from the wall should be cut away. THE KITCHEN GARDEN. Marrow-fat peas, if sown this month, will continue to bear till late in October. Vegetable marrow, gourds, and pumpkins, may now be sown where required. Thin out onion beds as they advance, get asparagus seeds from the earliest and largest heads, and sow kidney beans for succession. The Cape broccoli, and the principal table vegetables, lettuces, kidney beans, spinach, turnips, and endive, should be now sown again. The celery ought to be planted out. in rich ground in trenches; the whole of the root should be taken, and the side shoots removed. Garlic, onions, and shallots should now be taken up, if the leaves appear to decay. Weeds springing up profusely in gravel paths form now a great source of trouble and annoyance. It is worth while to remember that they can he effectively eradicated by watering the gravel every morning with a strong solution of bay sal', which must be dissolved in warm water before using. Never despise humble services-when large ships run aground, little boats may pull them off. Beware of the recoil of sinful indulgences; we break our necks over the orange peel of our own throwing down. WAITING FOR A LETTER. WHAT blunders some folks make!What confusion they are in, When they tremblingly inquire If the "postman hasn't been!" For they're waiting for a letter, From some one far away; Waiting day by day! Ah, me! there is a weariness, And find we wait in vain. Waiting for a letter From some one far away, Waiting day by day. Oh, could our friends but know this, To pen the expected letter, From some one far away, Waiting for a letter, SERENADE. LUCINDA B. In the silent summer night, When the moonbeams' gentle light Is trembling on the quiet sea; When everything is still Save the breeze upon the hill, The world is all at rest, In the music of thy vorce! Come forth, come forth, my fair, But the nightingale singing in the tree, Then, Isabel, come down to me. She is coming! she is near! As she passes 'neath the old oak tree, FLORIAN SPARKLING WATERS. YEARS, long years ago, a party of young people were sitting round a blazing fire in the cheerful kitchen of a German farmhouse. "Tell us a story," said the children, with one accord; and from the chimney-corner issued a somewhat cracked voice, and the Frau began : A little streamlet came dashing down the side of the mountain, sparkling and rippling over the pieces of rock in its deep bed, till it sang itself to sleep in the dark pool in the valley. It was a merry little brook, and the trees and flowers loved it, for they saw themselves reflected so brightly in its clear bosom; and, as we all know, flowers and trees have a certain amount of vanity. It was a clear, frosty night, and the moon's sweet face shone on the water; and the stream danced on more cheerily than ever, for it thought the beautiful luminary a sort of guardian and protectress; and so it sang and sparkled ever onward. But the tall firs only sighed, and the aspen shivered incessantly. One large, wide-spreading oak was muttering to himself, in a very discontented manner: How cold it is up here! he said; the side of the mountain is so exposed; how much happier I should be were my home in those warm climes, of which the swallows chattered so incessantly in the summer; or even in the valley beneath!' "The firs sighed again, sleepily, this time, and one muttered, Nonsense!' "Then the brook sang, oh! so sweetly, 'Be happy! be content but the oak would not heed the loving voice of his little counsellor, and presently went to sleep in a miserable state of mind. "The sun rose unusually bright the next morning, and the stream which, in the moonlight, shone like a liquid diamond, now had the appearance of molten gold. The sunbeams lighted up the dark wood, and chased each other into its deepest recesses. The daylight revealed an object which, standing in the shadow, was not visible the night before-a little, lonely peasant's cottage. It was nowise different to the cottages now-a-days, except, perhaps, that it had a more than average appearance of comfort and well-being. Presently the door opened, and a young girl stepped out, and came towards the spring. She was plainly-almost coarsely-dressed; but as she advanced, it became clear that she possessed beauty of no common kind; at least one person who beheld her at that moment thought so. She was a fresh, fair girl, with deep blue eyes, and masses of golden hair gathered up in neat braids on her small head; and there was a more intellectual expression about the mouth and eyes than is usually witnessed in persons of the class to which she belonged. When she reached the spring, she bent down to fill her pitcher, and thus occupied, did not hear footsteps behind her. Suddenly she started up with a joyful cry, as some one (perhaps the person before alluded to) touched her arm. Wilhelm' she said. 'Elise, my own Elise! Then the two sat down on the grass, and talked lovingly and gently; and presently returned together to the cottage. "This meeting by the spring continued morning after morning, all through the bright summer; and when the sere autumn leaves fell one by one to the ground, and the wind was chill, then Wilhelm sat with Elise and her mother in the cottage, and sometimes went out in search of game, and in these expeditions he was always accompanied by Theodor, Elise's young brother. The nights were chilly now, and the cold north wind whistled mournfully through the naked branches of the trees on the hillside, and the discontented oak-tree murmured more and more, spite of the sweet admonitions of the brook. One night, when no sound was heard save the rustle of the falling leaves, and the howl of the wolves in the far-off forest, a light appeared in one of the windows of the cottage, which burned there steadily until morning, and anyone looking into that chamber would have seen a fair girl tossing restlessly to and fro on her sick pillow, and an anxious mother watching, oh! so tenderly. And night after night this light burned brightly, and no Elise came to the spring for water; but her mother came daily, and as she bent over, a bitter rebellious tear would fall and mingle with the sparkling waters of the stream. And Wilhelm, poor Wilhelm, came daily to hear of, if he could not see, his Elise. But love and tenderness could not restore her, and daily she faded away. Every night the pale lamp shone in what was so soon to be the chamber of death. "One night there was no light in the window. The air was filled with a rushing as of angels' wings. The streamlet looked up, but nothing was visible save the cloudless blue sky,' and the sweet moon shining over all. "On the third morning, a funeral procession issued from the house; four young girls robed in white carried a bier, covered with early snowdrops, and the birds sang mournfully, Elise, the good, is dead!' "Did you know Elise?" said the chil dren. "I was her mother," replied the Frau, "and Theodor, her young brother, was your father. May his soul rest in peace!" 66 And what became of the oak ?" "He was brought into the valley, but not in the manner he hoped. He was blown down in a storm, and Theador cut the massive trunk into logs, and we burned them in winter; but Theodor took the finest piece of the wood, and carved on it simply the words, Elise,' and Wilhelm, and placed it over their humble graves." "Is that all, grandmother?" The Frau's head had fallen on her breast, and she made no answer. The children rushed to her. "Grandmother! speak to us!" exclaimed Bertha, the eldest, but no voice was heard. The weary spirit had fled to that bourne whence no travelier returns, to be reunited to her beloved Elise, Wilhelm, and Theodor. CAROLINE. BREAD FOUND AT POMPEII.-On this subject M. de Luca has recently addressed two papers to the Academy of Sciences. The eighty one loaves discovered at Pom peii on the 9th of August, 1862, in a Roman baking-oven, he tells us, have not all been taken to the Museum of Naples, where only a dozen are kept; the remainder are exhibited at Pompeii. They weigh from 500 to 600 grammes each, except four, weighing 200 grammes more, and one of the weight of 1,204 grammes. Their form has been too often described to deserve repetition; but their colour and substance offer some interesting peculiarities. External y the colour is dark-br wn, nearly black at the circumference, but lighter towards the centre. The crust is somewhat hard and compact, but the crumb, which is porous, may be easily crushed between the forefinger and thumb and has a lustre not unlike that of coal. This crumb contains at the centre about 23 per cent. of water, while the part adjacent to the crust only contains from 13 to 21 per cent. It loses some of its humidity when exposed to the air and the weather is hot. The crumb near the crust contains 2-8 per cent. of nitrogen, the crumb at the centre only contains 2-6. The crust does not contain more than 1.65 per cent. The composition of this bread was not easy to ascertain, because the quantity of carbon diminishes from the circumference to the centre, while the hydrogen, on the contrary, increases towards the centre. This shows that the external air has exercised some action on the bread, notwithstanding it was enveloped in a baking oven. The corn found in the baking establishment of Pompeii seems to have been wheat of good quality; it is now of a dark-brown colour, porous, and easy to crush between the forefinger and thumb. I contains 18 2 of ashes, 68-9 of carbon, and 5.5 of oxygen, against 2:31 of ashes. 46 of carbon. and 43 of oxygen, contained in wheat gathered in 1836. The proportion of hydrogen and nitrogen is ab ut the same in both cases. But the corn of Pompeii has lost its starch, since it is not coloured by iodine; nor does it contain any substance capable of reducing the tartrate of copper and potash, or fermenting with yeast. Hence, after eighteen centuries, the corn of Pompeii has lost all its organic substances, and contains neither luten nor starch, nor sugar, nor any fatty substance; while the bread contains the elements which constitute organic matter more towards the centre than at the surface.-Galignani. NOTES. They who walk on the heads of the multitude walk unsecurely; men's heads are dangerous footing. The loveliest faces are to be seen by moonlight, when one sees half with one eye and half with the fancy. Our own hands are heaven's favourite inst uments for su; plying us with the necessaries and luxuries of life. When a man takes more pleasure in earning money than in spending it he has taken the first step towards wealth. Beauties generally die old maids. They set such a value on themselves that they don't find a purchaser until the market is closed. A hypocrite may spin so fair a thread as to deceive his own eye. He may admire the cobweb, and not know himself to be the spider. THE STORY OF A SHORT LIFE. THE last word was said, the rite was ended, the mourners departed, and the lookers-on turned carelessly away. The priest alone remained; motionless, shading his forehead with his hand he stood wrapt in a reverie which we will not dis turb. He was a Roman Catholic, readeran honest curé, whose heart beat zealously for his faith; yet do not for that reason look on him with suspicion and distrust, for you would wrong him; there is the ring of true metal about him, and deceit is a stranger to his loyal nature. Trusting, then, and believing in Père Latour, let us follow him for awhile. Slowly he walked round the little churchyard at Laeken (I wonder if my reader knows Laeken-if there be any answering chord to its name in the memory of anyone who may chance to read this?), stopping abruptly as his ear caught the sound of a sob, heavy and stifled, bearing witness to the deep afflic tion of someone tried beyond their strength. Quickly did Père Latour wend his steps towards the tomb of Malibran on the other side of the little churchyard, and there, crouched on the damp grass, her head bowed down, a speaking picture of despair, he gazed silently and sorrowfully on a young girl, her form convulsed, almost distorted with passionate grief. "Valdovie," he said at length, enfant, mon enfant, tu as tort." mon She took no notice; and he said quietly, but firmly- "Léve-toi, Valdovie." And then she rose, gathering herself up half defiantly, but the tender sorrow in his face disarmed her at once, and she articulated in French, but with a foreign accent "My mother is dying!" obey, to the letter, her last request, though I know how you have opposed it, though I fear lest it cost me my only friend. "Mais mon enfant you have not promised?" inquired the priest eagerly. Valdovie hung her had for a moment, then suddenly looking up, she cried out, "Father, I have promised by all that is most sacred to me, most dear to me, that I will fulfil her wishes. And who shall blame me? Am I not alone-must I not depend on myself? Let the rich, the idle, the curious, look to themselves, and trouble not the orphan." "Malheureuse!" murmured the priest, "think of the difficulties before you, this is but the vain dream of a vain motherhush, I did not mean to wound you, but I look to your eternal welfare, Valdovie, mon enfant, and I would fain not see the paths of hell open before you." "My resolution is unalterable, mon père: would you detain me longer ?" She said this haughtily, and moved to one side, but the priest drew her to him, and putting back the hair from the troubled brow, said, "Go to your mother, my child; I will join you ere long." And Valdovie, looking gratefully into his face, murmured, "You are the only friend left to me;" and, with heavy footsteps, departed. "True enough," said Père Latour to himself, sadly; "and I will help her, only I would it might be in a way more after my own heart. But, enfin, as she has promised, I must even aid her to keep her word-c'est la volonté du bon Dieu." With this reflection the priest mounted the stout palfrey that awaited him, and trotted off in the direction of Brussels, at what was, for him, a brisk pace. The Rue d'Egmont, as my readers who know Brussels are aware, is a quiet street, and a fashionable one, too; yet I feel that I ought to make an apology for introducing anyone to the curiously untidy apartment, "au deuxieme," in which the second scene of my story opens. The NN |