I can hardly do better to-day than tell you about my dark London room, and what I have in it as regards plant life in this the worst month of the year. I will begin with the dead and dried things that only bear the memory of the summer which is gone. At the door stand two bright-green olive-jars that came from Spain, into which are stuck large bunches of the white seed-vessels of Honesty and some flowers of Everlastings (Helichrysum bracteatum). These last are tied in bunches on to Bamboo sticks, to make them stand out. Inside the room, on the end of the piano, is a large dish of yellow, green, and white Gourds. I grow them because they have that peculiar quality, in common with Oranges and autumn leaves, of appearing to give out in the winter the sunlight they have absorbed in the summer. Their cultivation does not always succeed with me, as they want a better, sunnier place than I can sometimes afford to give them. In a very wet summer they fail altogether. The seeds are sold in mixed packets; we sow them at the end of April, grow them on in heat, and plant them out at quite the end of May. In fact, we treat them exactly as you would Vegetable-marrows, only we train them over a fence.

On the backs of my armchairs are thin Liberty silk oblong bags, like miniature saddle-bags, filled with dried Lavender, Sweet Verbena, and Sweet Geranium leaves-This mixture is much more fragrant than the Lavender alone. The visitor who leans back in his chair wonders from where the sweet scent comes.

On the side ledge of two large windows I have pots of the common Ivy of our hedges. We dig it up any time in the spring, and put it into the pots, which are then sunk into the ground under the shade of some wall, and kept well watered. Before bringing it into the room in winter, it is trained up on an iron stake or Bamboo-cane, singly or in bunches, to give variety to its shapes. If kept tolerably clean and watered, this Ivy is practically unkill-able, even in London.

Then there are some pots of the long-suffering Aspidistras, the two kinds-variegated and dark green. These also want nothing but plenty of water, and sponging the dust off the leaves twice a week. They make pretty pot-plants if attended to during the summer in the country. They should be well thinned out and every injured leaf cut off, tied together towards the middle, kept growing all the summer in the greenhouse, and encouraged to grow tall; they are then more graceful and satisfactory. They seldom want dividing or re-potting. I have two sorts of India-rubber plants-the large-leaved, straight-growing common Ficus elastica, and the Ficus elastica indica, which is a little more delicate, and the better for more heat in summer; but it has a smaller leaf, and grows in a much more charming way than the other. Keeping the leaves very clean is of paramount importance with both these plants. During the winter they want very little watering, yet should never be allowed to get quite dry, as this would make the leaves droop. If, on the other hand, you see a single yellow spot on the leaves, you may be sure that they are too damp; and, if watering is continued, the leaves will turn yellow, and eventually fall one by one. When they are growing in heat during the summer, they must be watered freely and the leaves well syringed. Both kinds propagate very easily. The top shoots strike in sand and heat; and so do single leaves, if cut out with the eye and stuck round the edge of the pot. Another plant on the window-sill, Phalangium liliago variegatum, is of the same family as St. Bruno's Lily, that lovely early June flower in our gardens. It makes a most excellent pot-plant, young or old, for a room at all times of the year. It has a charming growth, and throws out branches on which young plants grow; these can be left alone, or cut off and potted up in small pots, in which case they root easily in summer, or in a little heat at other times of the year. The flower which comes on the plant in summer is quite insignificant. It is very easy of cultivation, though not quite hardy; and yet, when grown in a little heat, has all the appearance of the foliage of a delicate stove-plant.

In the middle of the room is a Pandanus veitchii. This must be sparingly watered. It is a delightful winter pot-plant in all its sizes. The offsets that come round the stems of the old plant root very easily in heat. It does not mind the heat of the fire, but resents frost on the window-pane. Cocos weddeliana and its varieties are most useful and well-known drawing-room plants, from South America. To save time, it is best to buy small plants from a nurseryman, and grow them on. They can, however, be grown from seed in a hot-bed in spring, but they are not very quick growers.

I have, wedged in Japanese vases in the Japanese way, which is so highly decorative,1 two branches of Solatium hybridum (Winter Cherry) grown from seed. They last much longer in a room, I find, if cut, stuck into clean water, and held up by the wedge, than they do when growing in a pot; cutting the plants well back makes them a better shape, and they flower and fruit more freely the following year.

In a brass Indian vase on a corner of the chimney-piece there are some long branches of the Double Plum {Primus spinosa flore pleno). These branches, with their bright green, bring spring into the room more effectively than anything I know. The little shrub is easy of cultivation, and more than most things repays potting-up and forcing. We plant them out in spring in a half-shady reserve border, and in August we cut with a spade round the roots of those plants which we intend to pot up in October. They do best if allowed to rest alternate years. The charming single Deutzia gracilis is treated in exactly the same way.

Never forget, in the arranging of cut flowers, that all shrubby plants and many perennials last much longer in water if the stalks are peeled. The reason is obvious: the thick bark prevents the absorption of enough water. In the case of succulent plants, splitting up the ends of the stalks is often sufficient.