Welcome, then, to whatever benefit can be derived from my limited experience. I am a humble student in floral _architecture_, and I offer my few suggestions to fellow-pupils, to those who aim unsuccessfully at home adornment, whose utmost skill often only attains sublime _failures_--not to the geniuses in the art. Frankly, submissively I acknowledge there are persons who, guided only by native taste and sense of harmony, accomplish beautiful results without hesitation or thought. Their flowers obey the slightest touch with nice subservience, falling into their most exquisite combinations of color and form. It would be superfluous to dictate to those thus gifted, but some of the unfortunates destitute of the divine intuition may be aided by the plain directions following. I may venture to hope that the judicious application of them will prevent the appearance of, perhaps, _several_ ugly bouquets in the world. My first maxim has reference to vases. They should, for the most part, be simple in design and uniform in tint. Avoid 'fishy' mouths, too wide for their (the vases') hight. Never put Lilliputian flowers, in no matter how large a quantity, into Brobdignagian vessels. In other respects, endeavor to adapt your boxes to the character of your flowers. For dahlias, flat dishes will be found very convenient, spread with broad, green leaves. Secondly. Do not put flowers of different shades of the same color side by side, any more than you would wear hues as discordant together on your person. Thirdly. Be very careful with the foliage employed. Too much hides the flowers; too little does not relieve them. Drooping green vines, etc., are always available. Last, but by no means least, _mass_ your colors. This rule is now often adopted on a larger scale in laying out flower-beds, and it is very important. It gives concentration and force to bouquets, and effectually prevents their not uncommon patchwork appearance. If these _dicta_ seem to any one ridiculously self-evident, he may take it for granted he is one of the geniuses, for whose service they are not promulgated. For their efficacy, behold some bouquets. A small, plain Parian pitcher, bearing sprays of orange-leaves and blossoms, one full-blown, deep red camellia, solid, heavy, looking as if carved from coral-stained ivory, many pendent abutilus, and some graceful vine curled negligently round the handle. How like you _le tout ensemble_! Look again: A small vase, light buff in color, holding roses--red and white--relieved by pansies, of intermingled purple and golden dyes, and by sprigs of the lemon verbena, of dainty heaths, mignonette, heliotrope, and geranium-leaves. See this, also: A ground-glass vase, containing a perfect white camellia, the daphneodora, and fuchsias, crimson and white. And this: A slender, tall vase of the ruby Bohemian glass, with varieties of the colceolaria, their tiny purses specked with brown, from light tan to velvety maroon.