dexterity among the leaves, and springing like a green flash upon their
prey. Naturally, therefore, they do not catch thrips or mealy-bug or
aphis; these are too small game for the midnight sports-man. Wood-lice,
centipedes, above all, cockroaches, those hideous and deadly foes of the
orchid, are their victims. All who can keep them safe should have green
frogs by the score in every house which they do not fumigate.

I have come to the orchids at last. It follows, indeed, almost of
necessity that a man who has travelled much, an enthusiast in
horticulture, should drift into that branch as years advance. Modesty
would be out of place here. I have had successes, and if it please
Heaven, I shall win more. But orchid culture is not to be dealt with at
the end of an article.


III.

In the days of my apprenticeship I put up a big greenhouse: unable to
manage plants in the open-air, I expected to succeed with them under
unnatural conditions! These memories are strung together with the hope
of encouraging a forlorn and desperate amateur here or there; and surely
that confession will cheer him. However deep his ignorance, it could
not possibly be more finished than mine some dozen years ago; and yet I
may say, _Je suis arrivé_! What that greenhouse cost, "chilled
remembrance shudders" to recall; briefly, six times the amount, at
least, which I should find ample now. And it was all wrong when done;
not a trace of the original arrangement remains at this time, but there
are inherent defects. Nothing throve, of course--except the insects.
Mildew seized my roses as fast as I put them in; camellias dropped their
buds with rigid punctuality; azaleas were devoured by thrips; "bugs,"