How often has it been repeated, that he who
causes an ear of wheat to grow where it never grew
before, is one of the gi-eatest benefactors to mankind!
If this be true, must we not also regard as a benefactor
the man who has introduced the loveliest
scenery of nature into the most crowded streets of
our sooty and muddy metropolis! who has clothed
our courtyards, aye, even our windows, with a perpetual
summer! who has realized that sweet land of a
poet’s imagination—
“ Where a leaf never dies on the still blooming bowers.”
It is M r . W a r d who has effected this. His plan,
although improved, I may perhaps say perfected, by
various accessories, depends primarily and fundamentally
on protecting the plants from too free communication
with the outer air. This end is obtained
by the use of glass, the light so essential to vegetation
being thus freely admitted. The most ready
way to try the experiment is, to procure a glass
vessel, for instance, one of those jars used by druggists
and confectioners; introduce some soft sandstone, or
some light soil, filling one-sixth of the jar with it,
and taking care that the earth be very moist, yet
allowing no water to settle at the bottom of the ja r ;
plant a fern in the earth, and then cover the jar with
its glass lid, first supplying a slip of wash-leather
round the rim of the jar, which will pretty nearly cut
off the communication between the internal and
external air; no farther attention will be required:
the fern will live, thrive, and probably seed, the seed
also vegetating, and at last the jar will become too
small for its contents; no watering is needed, the
moisture in the earth will exhale, condense on the
glass, trickle down its sides, and so return to the
earth whence it arose.
There is no limit to the application of this principle;
instead of a jar, it is easy to construct in the windowsill,
a box, extending throughout its entire length, the
bottom and sides being lined with zinc, to prevent the
moisture from damaging the adjoining wood work;
then let the window be a double one, like those in
Russia, leaving a space of six or twelve inches between
the inner and outer glass. The ferns so
planted in the box, which should contain a depth of
five or six inches of light sandy earth, will soon fill
up the space between the two windows, supplying the
most beautiful curtain or blind that could possibly be
invented. The plants need not be ferns exclusively,
roses, fuschias, &c. would also thrive; but it must
always be borne in mind, that plants requiring a
humid atmosphere should not be inclosed with those
which prefer aridity : of course the upper sash alone
must be made moveable. Extending the plan still
farther, a large conservatory may be constructed, or
even a large garden, entirely inclosed with glass; all
the doors should be fitted with great nicety and
exactness, and would be better if double, and always
one of them shut before the second is opened.
Houses on a large scale can scarcely be made