bold enthusiast, as recounted by Mr. Castle in his small brochure,
"Orchids." This gentleman had a fern-case outside his sitting-room
window, six feet long by three wide. He ran pipes through it, warmed
presumably by gas. More ambitious than I venture to recommend, "in this
miniature structure," says Mr. Castle, "with liberal supplies of water,
the owner succeeded in growing, in a smoky district of London"--I will
not quote the amazing list of fine things, but it numbers twenty-five
species, all the most delicate and beautiful of the stove kinds. If so
much could be done under such circumstances, what may rightly be called
difficult in the cultivation of orchids?




COOL ORCHIDS.


This is a subject which would interest every cultured reader, I believe,
every householder at least, if he could be brought to understand that it
lies well within the range of his practical concerns. But the public has
still to be persuaded. It seems strange to the expert that delusions
should prevail when orchids are so common and so much talked of; but I
know by experience that the majority of people, even among those who
love their garden, regard them as fantastic and mysterious creations,
designed, to all seeming, for the greater glory of pedants and
millionaires. I try to do my little part, as occasion serves, in
correcting this popular error, and spreading a knowledge of the facts.
It is no less than a duty. If every human being should do what he can to
promote the general happiness, it would be downright wicked to leave
one's fellow-men under the influence of hallucinations that debar them