About Orchids | Page 6

all these creatures are nocturnal of habit. Very few men visit
their orchid-houses at night, as I do constantly. They would see the
frogs active enough then, creeping with wondrous 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," mealy
and scaly, gathered to the feast; geraniums and pelargoniums grew like
giants, but declined to flower. I consulted the local authority who was
responsible for the well-being of a dozen gardens in the
neighbourhood--an expert with a character to lose, from whom I bought
largely. Said he, after a thorough inspection: "This concrete floor holds
the water; you must have it swept carefully night and morning." That
worthy man had a large business. His advice was sought by scores of
neighbours like myself. And I tell the story as a warning; for he
represents no small section of his class. My plants wanted not less but a
great deal more water on that villainous concrete floor.
Despairing of horticulture indoors as out, I sometimes thought of
orchids. I had seen much of them in their native homes, both East and
West--enough to understand that their growth is governed by strict law.
Other plants--roses and so forth--are always playing tricks. They must
have this and that treatment at certain times, the nature of which could
not be precisely described, even if gardening books were written by
men used to carry all the points of a subject in their minds, and to
express exactly what they mean. Experience alone, of rather a dirty and
uninteresting class, will give the skill necessary for success. And then
they commit villanies of ingratitude beyond explanation. I knew that
orchids must be quite different. Each class demands certain conditions
as a preliminary: if none of them can be provided, it is a waste of
money to buy plants. But when the needful conditions are present, and
the poor things, thus relieved of a ceaseless preoccupation, can attend
to business, it follows like a mathematical demonstration that if you
treat them in such and such a way, such and such results will assuredly
ensue. I was not aware then that many defy the most patient analysis of
cause and effect. That knowledge is familiar now; but it does not touch
the argument. Those cases also are governed by rigid laws, which we
do not yet understand.
Therefore I perceived or suspected, at an early date, that orchid culture
is, as one may say, the natural province of an intelligent and

enthusiastic amateur who has not the technical skill required for
growing common plants. For it is brain-work--the other mechanical.
But I shared the popular notion--which seems so very absurd now--that
they are costly both to purchase and to keep: shared it so ingenuously
that I never thought to ask myself how or why they could be more
expensive, after the first outlay, than azaleas or gardenias. And
meanwhile I was laboriously and impatiently gathering some
comprehension of the ordinary plants. It was accident which broke the
spell of ignorance. Visiting Stevens' Auction Rooms one day to buy
bulbs, I saw a _Cattleya Mossiæ_, in bloom, which