soil. Compared to the size of the bloom, the bulb is small,
generally weighing about four pounds. As for the flower itself
(which I afterwards saw under circumstances likely to impress
its appearance fixedly in my mind), I know not how to describe
its beauty and splendour, or the indescribable sweetness of its
perfume. The flower -- for it has only one bloom -- rises from
the crown of the bulb on a thick fleshy and flat-sided stem,
the specimen that I saw measured fourteen inches in diameter,
and is somewhat trumpet-shaped like the bloom of an ordinary
'longiflorum' set vertically. First there is the green sheath,
which in its early stage is not unlike that of a water-lily,
but which as the bloom opens splits into four portions and curls
back gracefully towards the stem. Then comes the bloom itself,
a single dazzling arch of white enclosing another cup of richest
velvety crimson, from the heart of which rises a golden-coloured
pistil. I have never seen anything to equal this bloom in beauty
or fragrance, and as I believe it is but little known, I take
the liberty to describe it at length. Looking at it for the
first time I well remember that I realized how even in a flower
there dwells something of the majesty of its Maker. To my great
delight Miss Flossie told me that she knew the flower well and
had tried to grow it in her garden, but without success, adding,
however, that as it should be in bloom at this time of the year
she thought that she could procure me a specimen.

After that I fell to asking her if she was not lonely up here
among all these savage people and without any companions of her
own age.

'Lonely?' she said. 'Oh, indeed no! I am as happy as the day