Attar of Roses

1895

Six Billion Damask Buds Gathered Every Year to Make It.

Since the emancipation of the Balkan provinces the manufacture of attar of roses has become a great industry in Bulgaria and has been taken up on a large scale in Germany. We have all been accustomed to connect the fabrication of attar of roses with Persia and Syria, and even now India and Constantinople furnish probably the largest markets for it, but although the art of making it was discovered in Persia the manufacture has now nearly or quite died out, and the center of the business is now the country about Kazanlik, on the south slope of the Balkans, close to the Shipka, or Wild Rose pass, famous in the history of the Russo-Turkish war. The rose growing belt is situated at an average altitude of 1,000 feet above the sea and extends to a length of about 70 miles, with an average breadth of ten miles. On this ground are produced annually from 5,000,000,000 to 6,000,000,000 rose blossoms.

The number of varieties cultivated is very small. Ninety per cent of all the blossoms are taken from a bushy variety of the Rosa damascene, or damask rose, known to our gardeners mainly as the ancestor from which the infinite variety of hybrid perpetual roses derive a large part of their blood. Of the remaining 10 per cent a part is gathered from the white musk rose, which is frequently planted as a hedge around the fields of pink damascene, while the rest are furnished by a dark red variety of damascene. Other sorts of roses have been tried, but some yield no attar at all, and others give an essence having the perfume of violets or pineapple or hyacinth rather than of roses. — London Public Opinion.


They Warn Crocodiles

Two or three species of birds are known to accompany the crocodile whenever he appears above water. Many a hunter has had his prospects for a shot spoiled by the alarm given to the reptile by his watchful attendants. When they see any one approaching, they will fly at the crocodile's nose, giving loud cries, and the beast never waits to investigate, but instantly shuffles into the water at his best speed.


Not the Girl to Endure a Slight

"We need no ring to plight our troth," he suggested as he kissed her impetuously.
"Yes, we do," retorted the maiden. "None of your sleight of hand tricks with me." — Detroit Tribune.

All Kinds of Flower & Vegetable Seeds (1895 advertisement)

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 22, 1895, p. 2.

Flowers of the Sunny South

1895

"I left Chicago one bitter cold day," said a man, "and when I landed in New Orleans the next day it was bland summer weather, and the warm sunshine went clear into the bone. I started out for a walk and at the first corner came to a flower stand. I selected a small bunch of violets and asked the price.

"'Ten cents,' said the flower seller.

"I thought that was wonderfully cheap, but of course I expected to find many flowers in the south — in fact, I had seen roses in full bloom in many of the broad front yards. Then I said to myself, 'Why can't I send some of those home and give my friends some idea of the glorious midsummer down here?' I asked the flower seller if the flowers would 'keep' long enough to be shipped north. He said they would. I doubted it. But he reassured me when he said: 'Don't you see how nice and fresh these are? Well, they were shipped all the way from Philadelphia.' " — Chicago Record.

Warm Rain On Demand

1901

Luxurious Quarters Provided For the Horticulturist's Favorites.

Everybody knows more or less about the cultivation of flowers, but few have either the time or money to grow such rarities as the orchid, sometimes called the "rich man's flower" because so far its cultivation has been restricted almost entirely to great private estates. These botanical aristocrats, like the famous black tulip which, according to the novelist Dumas, bloomed once and once only in the seventeenth century town of Haarlem, require luxurious surroundings in order to attain their best development. They require also special arrangements for their care and protection during exhibitions. Every new building devoted to horticulture has been the means of adding something to these arrangements, and the new horticultural hall in Boston naturally represents the latest achievements in this direction.

Temperature, of course, is one of the first things to be taken into consideration. Readers of Dumas will readily remember Van Baerle's famous drying house and the care with which he raised and lowered the windows. The exhibition rooms of the new hall are drying rooms on a larger scale and are so arranged that pressure on a single lever opens all the windows at once, thus filling the rooms at any moment with sunshine and fresh oxygen. But they are an improvement on the seventeenth century tulip fancier's arrangements in that modern science with its fans, heating apparatus and ventilators, has made it possible to keep the atmosphere always exactly regulated.

It is interesting to know also that the watering of plants in the new building is as scientific a process as the regulation of the atmosphere. Each of the exhibition rooms has several hose connections, supplying hot and cold water The temperature of the water may be regulated before it enters the hose and it thus reaches the individual flower at the exact degree of warmth which scientific experience has shown the gardener will produce the best results.

Why Flowers Bloom and Birds Sing

1901

The old comfortable belief of our forefathers that the flowers and fruits and all the good things of the earth were created for their benefit has been completely shattered by science. The shining gold of April celandine, the scent of white violets, are not for us at all, says science, not even for the insects that come to them for honey but just for the sake of the flowers themselves, which must get cross fertilized or die out. Self, self only, is the bedrock of it all. So the violets are not fragrant for us, and the thrush was not made to sing on our account but to charm his mate, and the stars do not shine so as to light our way through the wood and across the wild on moonless nights.

Fortunately this discovery need not take away our appetite for the feast which is spread out. We need have no more compunction in coming to it uninvited than has the bee or the moth in sipping the nectar of the blossom. It may even be that we, like they, do render unconsciously some return for benefits received. — Saturday Review.

Empress Eugenie Returns to Paris

Dec. 1919

Is Now Pathetic Figure, Bowed by Sorrow of Years.

PARIS, France — With bowed head and with face of infinite sadness, a modestly dressed old lady was seen walking through Tulleries Gardens today. As she walked she would stop to pick autumn flowers, seared and blasted by the cold, but no more faded than her cheeks. Passers-by, seeing her and knowing the regulations of the park, expected some policeman to admonish her, but she passed on, followed by a single maid, unchecked by the uniformed representative of the law.

It was the once proud Empress Eugenie, who, bowed beneath the weight of 93 winters, thus plucked withered flowers from a garden that was once hers. She was revisiting a scene poignantly recalling all the happiness, sorrow and terror which came to her during her years she was the chiefest jewel of the old palatial mansion.

Empress Eugenie left France on July 23, the fateful day when the then proud and haughty Austria sent an ultimatum to Serbia which was destined to dismember realms and change the whole face of history.

Chrysanthemums

1910

Chrysanthemums stand fourth in commercial importance among flowers. Only the rose, the violet and the carnation surpass them, and that chiefly because the chrysanthemum season is so short, while the others can be had from the florist nearly the whole year round. Greece gave us the name. Chrysanthemum means "golden flower." But the name was invented long before the big butter yellow globes were known in the Occident. It referred to the prevailing gold in the small varieties that were known. Strangely enough, the first chrysanthemum brought into Europe was not gold, but purple. It was a small flower about two inches across, shaped, like an aster. Somebody took it to Europe from China in 1790 — and, presto, the modern history of chrysanthemums was begun. — Argonaut.

The Flowers of the Sea

1910

Like the land, the sea has its flowers, but the most brilliant of the marine flowers bloom not upon plants, but upon animals. The living corals of tropical seas present a display of floral beauty that in richness and vividness of color and variety and grace of form rivals the splendor of a garden of flowers. The resemblance to vegetal blossoms is so complete that some persons find it difficult to believe that the brilliant display contains no element of plant life, but is wholly animal in its organization. Among the sea animals that bloom as if they were plants are included, besides corals, the sea-anemone and the sea-cucumber. It has been remarked that among the coral gardens the birds and butterflies of the upper world are replaced by fishes of curious forms and flashing colors which dart about among the animal flowers.

Flora of Railroad Yards

1910

It has been noticed that many plants not natives of the locality are to be found growing in the neighborhood of great railroad yards.

Sometimes the seeds of these plants have been brought thousands of miles from their natural habitat. Often they flourish amid their new surroundings and gradually spread over the surrounding country. Thus trains carry unsuspected emigrants, which travel to and from every point of the compass.

In the Mississippi valley are to be found plants which within a few years past have thus been brought together; some from the Atlantic seaboard, some from the gulf region, and some from the other side of the Rocky Mountains. — Harper's Weekly.

Flower Time

1916

Everywhere we see flowers, for this is flower time. Don't you love them? Did you know that there was a symbolic flower for every month of the year? They are:

January — Snowdrop (consolation).
February — Primrose (early youth).
March — Violets (modesty).
April — Daisy (innocence).
May — Hawthorne (hope).
June — Wild Rose (simplicity).
July — Lily (modesty).
August — Poppy (sleep).
September — Morning Glory (contentment).
October — Hops (joy).
November — Chrysanthemum (cheerfulness).
December — Holly (foresight).

Flowers have a language of their own, or rather man has given to each flower a meaning. Here they are:

Apple Blossom — Preference.
Bridal Rose — Happy love.
Chrysanthemum — I love.
Camellia — Excellence.
Calla Lily — Modesty.
Corn Flower — Delicacy.
Carnation — Fascination.
Daisy — Innocence.
Daffodil — Unrequited love.
Red Rose — Bashful love.
Forget-me-Not — Remembrance.
Geranium — Gentility.
Golden Rod — Encouragement.
Heartsease — Contentment.
Heliotrope — Devotion.
Honeysuckle — Happiness.
Hyacinth — Constancy.
Ivy — Fidelity.
Jasmine — Only for thee.
Jonquil — Affection.
Lady's Slipper — Fickleness.
White Rosebud — Girlhood.
Lily of the Valley — Unconscious sweetness.
Marigold — Contempt.
Mignonette — Good qualities.
Nasturtium — Splendor.
Pansy — Thoughts of you.
Poppy — Consolation.
Snow Drop — Hope.
Violet — Faithfulness.
Wild Rose — Simplicity.

—The Edwardsville Intelligencer, Edwardsville, IL, Sept. 20, 1916, p. 2.

Parrot Stories

1896

There was an old factotum in our family who used to sew for us, and who occasionally spent several weeks at a time at the house. She was somewhat of a character, had been married three times, and to distinguish her second dear departed was in the habit of calling him "my middle husband;" old maids she naturally did not approve of, remarking that they were the only things not prayed for in the Litany. The old woman was very deaf, and much shouting was needed to make her hear. One day many vain efforts were made to induce her to do a piece of work in a particular way, but she could not or would not see what was wanted, and at last, in despair, the lady of the house remarked to the nurse, "Oh, never mind; when she is gone, it must be altered." "Ah," remarked the parrot, in a loud, clear voice, "there's no fool like an old fool."

The parrot had on one morning been given a bath, or in other words, the garden watering can had been turned upon him, and he was placed in front of the fire to dry. There were two small kittens who also liked the warmth of the fire, and who were sitting one on each side of the cage. The bird walked first to one side, and looking down out of the corner of his eye, inquired, "Are you a good boy?" Then he sidled across to the other end of his perch and said to the other kitten, "And are you a good boy?"

One day two children of our family visited the house, and when alone amused themselves by mischievously pulling up some tulips, which grew in a pot in the room, by the roots, afterwards carefully replacing them. A little later Polly's master, to whom the plants belonged, came into the room, and immediately exclaimed, "Oh, look at my tulips; see how they are growing." Polly at once uttered two words, and only two; they were, "You ass!" I need hardly say that some time elapsed before the owner of the tulips was made acquainted with all the particulars of what had happened. — Chambers's Journal.

November In Georgia (poetry)

1899

By Francis Barine

Is this November—late November, too?
The woods have scarce a bough stripped wholly bare;
And soft and clear and kindly is the air,
And Summer's skies are not more deeply blue.
No richer roses in her garden grew,
Nor are these her "Good-by," — these roses rare:
The year has many roses yet to wear
Ere Winter comes, even here to claim his due.
Here Summer lingers — all the garden-ways
Are fragrant still. The bamboo's tangled green
Is mirrored where the warm brown water shines.
The distant hills are unobscured by haze —
Across a league of rolling land between
How clear the sky-line rampart of tall pines!

Yet there is something in the air to-day —
What is it? — sighing Summer's day is done,
Though Psyche float and circle in the sun,
And wayside-weed and garden-bed be gay.
Here waves the cotton-sedge, grown ghostly-gray—
There stretch the withered corn-fields. One by one
Queen Summer's brilliant courtiers vanish — none,
Except the roses, to the end will stay.
It is as if, arrested, Summer stood —
A fugitive queen, yet royal — with raised hand
Commanding silence, wherefore not a breath
Breaks the deep stillness of the waiting wood,
While with sad eyes she looks across the land
For his approach whose coming is her death.

— Youth's Companion.

A Pet Cemetery

1908

Where Pet Dogs and Cats Are Buried In State

New York. — In a picturesque little spot situated on one of the most beautiful of the Hartsdale hills lies one of the oddest of cemeteries. The casual visitor here, inspecting the inscriptions on the tombstones, would expect to see records of long forgotten generations, perhaps the history of the village in the lives of its citizens, but instead the stones contained nothing but inscriptions to dogs, with an occasional cat epitaph here and there.

"Fido, asleep," "Our beloved fox terrier, Flossie," "Dedicated to the memory of our pet cat, Smutty." Such a jumble of inscriptions meet the eye that the visitor begins to wonder whether the souls of Fido and Smutty now rest peacefully side by side or whether they arise at the witching hour to fight out once more their lifelong battle. In that case even the back fences of Harlem would be preferable to the rural peace of Hartsdale.

This cemetery, moreover, contains French dogs and French inscriptions and German dogs. And just as human tombstones have little angels on them so these dog tombstones have little puppies carved on them playing with toys. Next to one of the graves the owner has erected a big rustic mourner's bench so that he may grieve for his pet in comfort.

The most elaborate grave is that of a bulldog that once belonged to a family named Willson. Besides having a big granite stone at the head, it has two little bay trees on either side, and at the foot is a little marble trough with three little marble canaries drinking out of it. The canaries would be more easily explained if it were a cat grave, but perhaps this particular bullpup had feline predilections.

For six months after he was buried tali dog had fresh violets or roses placed upon his grave every day, it is chronicled. The burial cost the bulldog's owner over $500.

The grave digger of the cemetery also tells of dogs buried in rosewood or mahogany coffins, some with gold handles, and gold, jewel-studded collars around their necks.

"You have no idea," he will wander on, "how much money some undertakers make on the side in these dog coffins. Often the coffins are lined with plush or velvet and cost large sums of money.

"And then some people insist on having their dogs embalmed before they are willing to bury them. Of course the undertakers keep that part of their business very secret, but they do it just the same."

Many of the dogs that were prize winners in their lively days have all their trophies, ribbons, silver mugs and such things buried with them. Others have all their old collars, whips and playthings, and one woman actually buried a Bible and rosary with a dog.

"Of course I know it must seem very silly," she said in explanation, "but it just makes me feel better, so why shouldn't I do it?"

"And do they have real funerals for dogs, with services and so on?" asked the seeker of information of the digger of graves.

"Well, no; no real services," he explained, "though some of them would like to, I guess, by the way they act.

"Sometimes they bring the body up from New York in an automobile, sometimes they ship it up as freight and meet it at the railway station with carriages. Only family and friends, you know. There are never very many of them.

"But the way those people act when it comes to covering up the box is — well — just about the limit. And the men are not much better than the women, either. I've got a pretty interesting job, I can tell you.

"And most of them come up regularly and see to it that I'm keeping the grave in OK condition. And on the day of the dog's death they usually decorate the grave with flowers. I can tell you I wouldn't mind being some dogs."

There are now 450 dogs and about 20 cats buried in the cemetery. Plots cost from $15 to $25 each, including a zinc lined box which is hermetically sealed for shipping. This, however, is only the minimum expense for a dog funeral, and from this point the price goes up far into the hundreds.

The Arrangement of Cut Flowers

1874

The London Gardener says that of all the various mistakes made by persons in arranging flowers, the commonest is that of putting too many in a vase; and next to that, is the mistake of putting too great a variety of colors in one bouquet. Every flower in a group should be clearly distinguishable and determinable without pulling the nosegay to pieces; the calyx of a cove pink should never be hid by being plunged into the head of a white phlox, however well the colors may look.

Sweet peas never look so well in the hands as they do on the boughs over which they climb, because they cannot be carried without crowding them; but put them lightly in a vase with an equal number of mignonette, or rather, ornament a vase half full of mignonette, with a few blossoms of sweet peas, and you get a charming effect, because you follow the natural arrangement by avoiding crowding of the blossoms, and putting them with the green foliage which they want to set them off.

Few people are aware, until they try it, how easy it is to spoil such a pleasing combination as this; a piece of calceolaria, scarlet geranium, or blue salvia, would ruin it effectually. Such decided colors as these require to be grouped in another vase, and should not even be placed on the table with sweet peas.


Laugh and Be Healthy

The physiological benefit of laughter is explained in the Archiv fur Psychiatrie: The comic-like tickling causes a reflex action of the sympathetic nerve, by which the caliber of the vascular portions of the system is diminished, and their nervous power increased. The average pressure of the cerebral vessels on the brain substance is thus decreased, and this is compensated for by the forced expiration of laughter, and the larger amount of blood thus called to the lungs. We always feel good when we laugh, but until now we never knew the scientific reason why.

They're Not Dead, But Living

1914

On Memorial Day

There is no death. There are no dead. In every town in America they are garlanding graves; lilacs from the tree beside mother's door, peonies from a great red mound which has been the pride of the place for years, snowballs and syringa from shrubs which father planted when the place was new.

But beneath the friendly grasses under the low mound marked with some dear name, there lies not one dead hero. Here is laid the dust fallen from his garments, here perchance may still be found a keepsake not yet indistinguishable. For all the years that we have mourned this brave spirit, he has lived only a little way apart in a planet to us invisible, alert, progressing, rejoicing in a plan universal, and at peace and in harmony with the law of love eternal. — Exchange.


Remember Lincoln's Message

That man honors the memory of the dead on Memorial day who, in Lincoln's words, dedicates himself "to the unfinished work" which must be done before this nation shall be worthy of its opportunities, and of the devotion of those who gladly died for it.

Squirrels Raid An Attic

1915

Confiscate Winter Supply of Black Walnuts, But Family Capitulates

Huntington, Indiana — A squadron of flyers has laid siege to and captured one stronghold in the heart of the residence district of Huntington. The besiegers have appropriated a winter's stock of supplies and those assailed have capitulated.

The squadron comprises a number of flying squirrels. A winter's supply of walnuts was scented in the attic at the home of Clinton Butler, an Erie engineer. An opening into the attic was discovered and possession taken by the squirrels. The scamperings of the squirrels were heard by the Butler family during the day and their chatter disturbed the sleep of the family at night. Investigation resulted in solving the disappearance of the nuts.

In an effort to win the friendship of the little animals food is set out for them.


Flower Stems Saved Her Life

Newport, Kentucky — Mrs. Ida Muth owes her escape from death by drowning to a large bunch of withered canna stalks and flowers she intended throwing away. She stepped upon the cover of an abandoned cistern, which gave way and she plunged into 12 feet of water. The canna stalks proved buoyant and for many minutes they kept her head above water. Her screams brought help.

The Hummingbird — Bird or Bee?

1907

Two quaint observations about humming birds are published in "Early Long Island," by Martha Flint, both quoted from letters of the seventeenth century, written from the new country of America. Says one:

"The Humbird is one of the wonders of the country, being no bigger than a Hornet, yet having all the Demensions of a Bird as bill, wings with quills, spider-like legges, small claws. For Colour she is as glorious as the Raine bow."

Adrian Van der Donck, one of the Hollanders of Nieuw Nederlandt in 1642 writes of a —

"Curious small bird concerning which there are disputations whether it is a bird or a bee. It seeks its nourishment from flowers like the bee and is everywhere seen regaling itself on the flowers. In flying they make a humming noise like the bee. It is only seen in Nieuw Nederlandt in the season of flowers. They are very tender and cannot be kept alive, but we press them between paper and send them as presents to our friends."

Child Saved by a Bear

1898

Residents of Apalachin, N. Y., had a bad scare recently, when the four-year-old child of Henry Rathburn started out alone to look for trailing arbutus. It was half an hour before she was missed, and then all trace of the little one was lost. Her distracted father and his neighbors joined in the search.

While passing through a ravine they were startled to see an uncouth object shambling toward them some distance up the road, carrying a bundle in its mouth. Closer inspection proved to the terrified searchers that the object was a bear and the bundle a child. It is many years since a bear was seen in this section, but the men, though unarmed, prepared to give battle, one of their number going back for help. But the bear trotted toward them as though totally unconcerned, and when a few yards away carefully laid down the child it was carrying by its dress.

When the men approached and took up the little one the bear did not show fight, and a closer investigation proved he had a ring in his nose. Later it was found the bear belonged to an Italian who was camping in a nearby barn, making a tour of the country. He had purchased the animal when a cub and reared him in a New York tenement, where he was allowed to play with the children, and it was there he had learned the trick of carrying the little ones. — New York Press.

Flowers in the Home

1883

Flowers! How our thoughts brighten at that word! They fly back over, ten, twenty, thirty, aye, forty years, to the times when we wove garlands from the wild sweet blossoms. What dainty, golden necklet we have since worn has given us the pleasure we felt when we decked ourselves in a simple daisy chain?

But I did not take up my pen to write of our sweet childhood; I wish to speak to my sisters of the home; I wish to remind them that nothing will make a home truly refined but flowers. Ah, they are infinitely more than rich furniture, and even more than books or pictures, or music itself, for they speak to all. None are too old, too young, too ignorant nor too refined to be taught by those sweet, fragile teachers. Then, busy, planning housewives, find a place for something that will tell you "God is love" — a little flowering plant.

It need not be a rare exotic in a costly vase. Primroses, violets, hyacinths, or any sweet, simple flower in an ordinary pot is quite enough. But you can make your pot quite a work of art with a little patience, ingenuity and corks. Take a flower-pot, a small wooden box, or anything convenient, and glue on fragments of corn until the outside is covered with a rustic coat. Then fill with mold and plant your flower.

Another way is — paint your pot or box a dark brown; then, when, it is dry, gum on some of those pretty, cheap scraps in wreaths or groups, and finish with a coat of clear varnish. Yet another way is to adapt common sea shells and pebbles. Ah, they are little things, but they will brighten a room, and perhaps a sad, dark, weary soul. What memories they awaken!

But a week ago a pot of spring flowers was placed in my hand, and with their sweet breath floated the memories of ten years ago, when I gathered the wild flowers and wove them into garlands; when I was not alone, but had the companionship of one who now sleeps in God's Acre beneath the flowers, when my faith in God and man was unshaken; and for that glimpse of my fair, pure childhood I was stronger and better. Then find a place for flowers. For all your care and trouble their sweetness and beauty will reward you fourfold. — The Toronto Globe.

Grandmas

1920

Little boys and girls know that grandmas have the most comfortable laps of all the women in the world. And it is sad to think that some little boys and girls have never known what it means to "go down to grandma's house."

Grandma's house, sitting way-back in the yard, with the old-fashioned flower garden of hollyhocks and lavender, sweet peas and forget-me-nots, geraniums, pink and red, and the sweet-scented verbenas and sweet Williams, all so carefully tended. Grandma's house, where the cookie crock was never empty, where the attic was full of old books, old clothes and mystery. Grandma's house, where the yard was overgrown with untrimmed trees and lilac bushes, in which redbirds nested in the summer and jaybirds fought in the winter. Grandma and grandma's home are great institutions.

Grandma, thin and smiling, or jolly and fat, it was all the same. At the door to greet one when he arrived; there to bid him come again when he left, loaded down with childish treasures. When grandma laughed she shook, and so others laughed with her, too. What a wonderful, peaceful face, what beautiful, tapering fingers, grandma had!

—Appleton Post-Crescent, Appleton, Wisconsin, Feb. 9, 1920, p. 4.

Note: "Tapering fingers" is "taping fingers" in the original article. I can't find a definition for "taping" that would seem to fit. But peaceful and tapering sounds like the delicate, gentle image the author was going for there at the end.