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PSt

MY GARDEN

P.JLONIES AND MAPLES.

The "Col&ctry Life"
Library.

MY GARDEN

EDEN PHILLPOTTS.

LONDON: PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICES OF
« COUNTRY LIFE," Ltd., TAVISTOCK STREET,
COVENT GARDEN, W.C. GEORGE NEWNES, Ltd.,
SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C; AND
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, NEW YORK. MCMVI

• *

ir-Al-3/

<*31 if

<DEDICA TED

The Lady of ZMy Qarden

u Tell a truth, gay Springs lei us know
What feet they were, that so

Impressed the earth, and made such various flowers
to grow.

She that led, a queen was at least,

Or a goddess 'dove the rest :

And all their graces in herself exprest

O, 'twere a fame to know her name;

Whether she were the root;

Or they did take th 9 impression from herfoot. n

BEN JONSON.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

PAGB

INTRODUCTION I

CHAPTER II

GENERAL SURVEY 1 3

CHAPTER III

THE GARDEN-ROOM 2 J

CHAPTER IV

THE GARDEN-ROOM (concluded) 42

CHAPTER V

THE WHITE ROCKERY 54

CHAPTER VI
the white rockery (continued) 73

CHAPTER VII
the white rockery (continued) 91

CHAPTER VIII

the white rockery (concluded) 105

™ b

viii CONTENTS

CHAPTER IX

PAGB

THE IRIS 126

CHAPTER X
the iris (continued) 139

CHAPTER XI
the iris (concluded) 152

CHAPTER XII

THE POND 168

CHAPTER XIII

THE RED ROCKERY 183

CHAPTER XIV

OF MANY THINGS 1 98

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

(From Photographs by Madame K. Durrani 6* Son.)

PiEONlES and Maples Frontispiece

Romneya COULTERI To face page 4

My Neighbour's Trees „ „ 14

Rose Border in Winter ....„„ 16

Clematis vitalba „ „ 17

Chimonanthus fragrans ....„„ 22

The Garden Room „ „ 27

The Garden Room „ „ 36

Ceanothus "Gloire de Versailles" . „ „ 37

Gourds and Maize „ „ 44

lophospermum scandens ....„„ 4$

Azalea Mollis „ „ 48

The White Rockery „ „ 64

The White Rockery „ „ 65

Helianthemum polifolium and Saxifrage

aizoon „ „ 68

Fuchsia procumbens „ „ 69

Gladiolus trimaculatus and Convolvulus

ALTHjEOIDES ,, „ 72

Gladiolus roseus „ „ 73

The White Rockery „ „ 76

Rhododendron hirsutum „ „ 86

Daphne Cneorum „ „ 87

Magnolia stellata „ „ 88

Oenothera eximium „ „ 89

The Lily of the Incas „ „ 102

Gladiolus— Hybrids of Nanus „ „ 103
Three Hybrids of Lemoine: Achanti,

Eclipse, Princeps „ „ 106

Albuca Nelsoni „ „ 107

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Cypella Herberti .
Hedychium coronarium
marica c/erulea

Bravoa GEMINIFLORA.
RIS RETICULATA
RIS TINGITANA .
RIS IBERICA

RIS Nepalensis

RIS SUSIANA

RIS LORTETI

RIS KOROLKOWI

RIS FIMBRIATA JAPONICA

RIS REGELIA LEICHTLINI

RIS TOMIOLOPHA (tECTORUM)

RIS SIBIRICA

RIS STYLOSA

RIS STYLOSA ALBA

RIS FULVA

RIS DELAVAYI .

Group of I. Germanica
Iris "Madame Chereau"
nymphiea marliacea albida carnea

NyMPHjEA LAYDEKERI PURPURATA

Group of Cut Water-Lilies
SPIRjEA gigantea ....
lllium speciosum album " kraetzeri
The Red Rockery — General View
polemonium confertum (vor. mellitum)

SlBTHORPIA EUROPjEA

Pratia REPENS ....

The Red Rockery— The Steps
Phytolacca decandra .
Ready for the Vases— October

To face page

' 112

»»

120

121

129

I30

131

I40

141

142

9»

I46

147

I50

»»

151

154

j»

155

158

159

»»

162

163

174

175

»»

I76

»»

177

I80

184

185

188

189

192

204

205

MY GARDEN

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

It is not proposed to submit excuses for this work.
Nowadays everybody with a garden larger than a
tablecloth rushes into print concerning it, and expects
us to follow through the whole procession of the
seasons on that particular and precious plot. We
are confronted with each plant, grass-blade, and
worm-cast ; we have the usual quotations from the
poets; the usual round of successes during some
little passing outburst of climate; the customary
failures under our normal conditions of weather.
And now I am going to do it all over again ; because
to remain silent, if you have a garden, is to be noto-
rious. That we may escape charges of eccentricity,
therefore, we should all write garden books. In my
case the time has come ; the task can be evaded no
more.

Let there be no obscurity or evasion or misunder-
standing. My garden is very small, and I know but
little concerning horticulture. I shall be perfectly
frank about my failures ; I shall speak without false

^^ms^^mm

2 MY GARDEN

modesty when I succeed; and I shall hide nothing
from you that you may reasonably demand to learn.
If in return for this candour you still hold out against
my book, you are a churl, and no gardener, and I
have done with you.

There are two' sterling tests of a true gardener,
and neither has been found to fail. First, take
nurserymen's catalogues. Should you love these
things; should your eye brighten when they reach
you; should you make yourself believe them by
exercise of pure faith ; should you gloat over their
luscious adjectives, and neglect your duties, and waste
hours in turning their pages when you ought to be
justifying existence; should you make lists out of
them, and pretend that you are only doing it for fun,
yet conclude by getting these lists posted ; should you
reach a pitch with regard to them when your lawful
heirs begin to intercept them and hustle them out of
your sight — then you are a real gardener, and I shake
your horny hand. Catalogues ought to exercise a fatal
fascination upon us. They come to me from every part
of the civilised earth excepting Japan ; and I dream
of a Japanese catalogue soon. But remember, with
respect to catalogues, that you must believe what you
read. When your heart grows faint, recollect that the
men who write these things are artists in their way,
and have a sense of colour and size denied to many
among us. A good catalogue should be full of
poetry, leading delicately up to the prose in the right-
hand column where the prices are. For my own
part, even now, after all these years, I trust nearly

INTRODUCTION 3

everything but the pictures of cucumbers. These I
refuse to accept, because right well I know that they
cannot be produced without the assistance of a dis-
honest photographer. The cucumbers of the cata-
logues are pure art. Nature will have none of them,
and no more will I. A cucumber six feet in length
would be just as absurd as a salmon of those dimen-
sions. Providence very properly seems to regulate
the one by the other ; and though we may often
surprise Nature in a hot-house and — with a high
temperature and tons of water — bustle her into the
production of something that she would blush for at
a cooler moment, yet the fact remains concerning
cucumbers, that they have their limits, and those
limits lie nearer to three feet than six.

A second grand test of a gardener is the butterfly
question. When horticulturists, so-called, invite me
to beam upon these gorgeous insects opening and
shutting their painted wings in the middle of some-
thing that cost money, I know that I am dealing with
ignorance, or culpable indifference. If you are an
entomologist, well and good. I say nothing. We
all have our simple pleasures, and, as Montaigne re-
marks, "he must fool it a little who would not be
thought wholly a fool." At any rate, the more butter-
flies you catch and pin into boxes, the better I shall
like you. Come to me as often as you will during the
season, and always count upon a glass of sherry and a
biscuit after your sport is done.

But should you be a gardener, the case is very
different We are now dealing with a serious subject,

4 MY GARDEN

and there is no place for butterflies in a properly
kept border. Off with them ! Down with them I
Or, if you cannot trust your accuracy, then away
with them next door. See that they go and do not
return. You will call these cruel words, and perhaps
tell me that they only come for nectar. You are in
error. Of course, they want all they can get, like
everybody else ; and there would be no difficulty
with me about nectar ; but mark this : it is not what
a butterfly takes, but what she leaves, that makes me
adamant against them. The females of the diurnal
lepidoptera lay eggs in a prodigal and generous spirit,
and no silly mother of spoilt children has more ex-
pensive tastes in the matter of her nursery than they.
Nothing at five shillings a dozen will do for them.
No ; they choose a specimen plant for every accouche-
ment ; and with marvellous instinct they select the
period immediately before flowering, so that your
buds and their eggs shall burst into fulness of life
together. Then weak humanity shows temper about
Nature's plans, and many a jolly young caterpillar
comes to a squashy end. How much better that it
should have had no beginning.

I remember a romneya Coulteri just budding deli-
ciously for bloom. Three score lovely glaucous
buttons hung on the points of the grey-green foliage ;
and presently they opened, and great crimped petals,
glittering like snow, unfolded about each heart of
gold. That corner of the garden was scented as with
primroses. The plant stood eight feet high ; the sun
himself left it reluctantly. Peace and joy and com-

ROMNF.YA COVLTERI.

INTRODUCTION 5

plimentary remarks were the order of each day.
Look at the picture, and see for yourself what my
Mexican poppywort can do. Then began the tell-
tale holes and tatters. I hunted, and protested, and
examined every branch, and dived head first into the
midst of the plant — all in vain* But the powers of
darkness came to my aid ; I stalked the enemy with a
bull's-eye lantern when all good insects slept; and
destroyed five-and-twenty lusty green hooligans in a
night. They were, of course, gnawing the unopened
flower-buds, as I expected.

My garden is formal, I am proud to say ; and if it
was a thousand acres instead of one, I would still
have it formal. You can walk round it in two
minutes. The only question is whether it will be
worth your while so to do. Mr. Robinson, to whom
be all honour for his opinions on this subject, has
laid it down that "no garden is more likely to be
inartistic than the one rich in plants/ 9 He is right —
right to the very summit of rectitude ; and for this
reason I limit myself rigidly — I will be artistic. I
have almost a thousand genera, and of some, of
course, many species. But I refuse absolutely to go
much beyond that number. A thousand genera for
one acre of garden will suffice anybody. There are
plants, like Sequoia 1 gigantea, that want an acre all to
themselves, and these I do not grow. What, after all,
is a thousand genera ? Hardly one-sixth of the total
number known to science. Yet, even with these, one

1 Sequoia. What an interesting definition has this word. The mighty
conifer is called after a mighty man : See-qua-yah, a Cherokee chieftain.

6 MY GARDEN

may have great moments. For instance, there was
the occasion when Kew wrote and asked me for a
plant, because Kew had not got it ! Upon the receipt
of this command I found myself in a sort of horti-
cultural ecstasy; and the apotheosis took a very
beautiful form. I seemed to be floating on a rosy
cloud between Sir William Thiselton-Dyer and Miss
Gertrude Jekyll. Each had me by the hand, and
cupids pelted us with the petals of rare hybrids.

The treasure that Kew honoured me by accepting
came in a parcel of corms, tubers, bulbs, and seeds
from the Zambesi basin. After two years of getting
accustomed to the vagaries of my stove-house, this
African plucked up spirit and put forth a solitary
bloom. It was a lovely purple and golden creature
of daintiest habit. I knew it for a gloriosa, but had
never seen the like.

Our Royal Gardens welcomed my flower in a spirit
of large enthusiasm. The plant turned out to be
gloriosa Carsoni, and Kew wanted it. Next autumn
I sent a plump tuber, and with the generous instinct
of your true gardener, Kew sent in exchange some
noble and interesting exotics. Of other goods from
the Zambesi, I have flowered gladiolus Melleri (of
Baker), and another gladiolus or two not often seen.
A white haemanthus in one box blossomed during his
journey home — probably under the impression that
it was a case of " now or never." He arrived with a
beautiful bloom, but, though still alive, that effort
appears to have rendered the plant a chronic sufferer,
he has never smiled again. To be honest, a good

INTRODUCTION 7

deal of ignorance hampers me. I have got plenty
of stout, healthy, vigorous bulbs from Central Africa
that ought to flower, and evidently can flower, but
won't flower. Tropical plants are like Nature's self :
they never pardon stupidity. If you muddle with
equatorial bulbs, they sooner or later die ; and if
you muddle with Nature, you do.

This year Carson's gloriosa, encouraged by rumours
of its success, has flowered abundantly, and made a
specimen of great beauty. It also did well at Kew,
and was much admired there.

Now, some people say that there are a couple of
simple fundamental rules to follow in a garden ; and
declare that if they were only observed, we should
have no failures. First, master the needs and neces-
sities of a growing thing, both above ground and
beneath; secondly, deny yourself that plant unless
you can furnish its correct requirements. This per-
haps sounds cowardly, and personally I do not insist
upon the letter of the rules, though their spirit may
be considered. On a garden of London clay, for
instance, the results of following this counsel must
be so meagre that a gardener's spirit would perish
for lack of sustenance. In England we cannot go
to such lengths; we have to experiment and probe
the possibilities of our climate to their hideous depths.
I experiment myself in my nursery. I grow new
plants there — that is, plants that are new to me —
and compare their achievements with the handsome
things alleged about them in the catalogues. Much
innocent amusement may be secured in this way

8 MY GARDEN

alone. We must experiment. Experiments are the
breath in the nostrils of art and science ; and evolu-
tion is Nature's own eternal experiment. I myself
know the man who proved to demonstration that
choisya ternata 1 would grow in the open air of the
United Kingdom, Thus he has justified his existence
nobly, and brought gladness to the hearts of many
good gardeners. Who would be without choisya
now? No self-respecting spirit surely. I bless
Mexico when I think of it.

Yes, emphatically, let us experiment ; let us hybri-
dise, let us keep notes about what we do ; let us grow
lilies from seed, and germinate gentians, and study
insect pests ; and find the right use for children in a
garden. Lines of investigation lie open to all of us ;
we can each help the science, and it is our duty to
do so. But we must be reasonable. There are funda-
mental, approved, and trusted truisms, which to deny
or to defy is vain. I knew a man who set to work to
show that it was all nonsense about lilium not liking
clay. He might as well have endeavoured to prove
that it was all nonsense about pineapple not liking
frost

Begin with your soil, and get a general idea what
it is good for. If, as usually happens, it is good for
nothing, face the fact like a man; don't evade it,
and pretend it will suit roses, and turn what should
be a garden into a graveyard. Remember that one
good rhododendron, smiling in five shillings' worth

1 Choisya tertuUtu My dear Palmer, this historic achievement shall be
recorded to your everlasting credit and renown.

INTRODUCTION 9

of peat, is better than a dozen dying horribly on a
border of lime. If you are entering a new house,
never deceive yourself about the garden. In these
cases it is customary to take all the debris that the
builders rejected, or spoilt, or wasted, and arrange
it in heaps outside. It is then dusted over with the
stuff dug out of the foundations, and called flower-
beds. But bits of brick and lead piping, zinc roof-
ing and sawn wood, broken glass and broken slates,
shavings and mortar, lumps of putty and dregs from
the soldering ladle, do not make a flower-bed. You
may even spread a mulch of broken drain-pipes,
fragments of wall-paper and scourings of paint-pots,
upon these foundations, and yet produce no plant
food worthy of the name. To grow plants, we must
have soil ; and if you are going to be contented with
any substitute, you may be wise, thrifty, and sensible,
but you are not a gardener, and should never pretend
to that proud name.

Take clay. I would not have enough to make a
marble in my garden, if I could help it. Clay should
only be suffered in the shape of flower-pots. You
murmur the magic word " roses." Well, it is known
that they will endure clay ; but that is to their credit,
not the clay's. A brave man will do his duty in the
face of the enemy, and a brave rose will do its duty
upon clay. Nevertheless, some rich, deep loam, full
of good stuff, would make its heart much happier.
I myself lingered on London clay for years ; but did
I flourish ? Par from it. Finally, they had to take
me away and give me a bit of peat.

10 MY GARDEN

But here I am telling you how to make a garden ;
which is absurd. There are exactly seven hundred
and thirty-four authorities on garden-making, and I
am not one of them. You shall, however, if you
please, come into my garden and patrol it in an
amiable and amateur spirit. We will be technical
or trivial, serious or gay, placid or agitated, as the
circumstances may warrant. The itinerary is only
too brief. First may be taken a general glance round
at the things done; then the garden-room and the
climbing plants upon it call us. We will proceed to
the lofty subject of flowering shrubs, and the treasures
of Japan and China in this sort. We may next visit
the rock-border, where I have planted a thousand and
odd things with my own hand — from a white-flowered
cistus that I gathered as a seedling in the myrtle-
scented pinewoods of Hy&res, to a tiny squill, plucked
out of scorched earth on the heights of Bouzar6ah,
above Algiers. In this section I propose to discuss
slugs and their bearing upon the rarer alpines. I
shall also detail my experiments with Cape bulbs in
the open air, and record the weather they make of it
during our English winters. I may then, with your
leave, flit off to a few favourite families, including the
iris and the lily. Of all flowers, the iris is first in my
esteem, and she shall have a chapter — perhaps two —
to herself.

There remains my bog basin. Many people
would call it a .bog garden. But that would not
be true. It is merely a basin. My pond is associated
with this spot, and among the plants it contains

INTRODUCTION u

are some British subjects not as well known as they
should be.

There are certain plants whose names always bring
pain to my heart and wake bitter memories. Nelum-
bium is a word I can never hear without a pang ; and
when people talk of the oncocyclus group of irises,
I turn away to conceal my emotion. If these noble
things do not occur at great length in the body of
the work, you will know that I have misunderstood
them again. Don't gloat about it; pass on, like a
gentleman, and say nothing. Some people have a
lynx's eye for our failures, and cut the successes dead
— with an insolent stare, which is very painful to
witness. I once took a man to see a sheet of arenaria
balearica in flower. It covered a cool corner with
glimmering and dewy green, and pearly inflorescence
was scattered thickly over it. Its little hands spread
out to the damp stones, and a million tiny flowers
shone in the shadows with infinite beauty and lustre.
The visitor put up his double eyeglasses and peeped
about. He ignored the lovely Balearic sandwort, but
suddenly said, " Hullo ! What's the matter with this
petrocallis ? "

The matter with the petrocallis was obvious to any
eye. Indeed, the poor atom passed away three nights
afterwards. No true gardener would have permitted
himself to observe its last miseries — unless he had
possessed knowledge that could save it. We must
carry a magnifying-glass for success, and harbour
fellow-feeling for failure. If you cannot in honesty
admire a man's carpet bedding, you may be able to

IPPW^^^^^"^^"^""^"^^*^*^

12 MY GARDEN

praise his fernery ; if his melons are mere sorrowful
burlesques of what a melon should be, yet his fig tree
will possibly open the way to enthusiasm. I have
often found it easy to be genial and laudatory about
fig trees — especially in the west of England. This is
probably because many gardeners do not pretend to
understand them, and leave them altogether alone.
The way that English fig trees have of carrying two
crops but only ripening one, puzzles professional
gardeners to madness, and often lures them into
many a rash and unscientific utterance.

Well, that is the programme, speaking roughly.
Come in if you will ; if the prospect fails to please,
go your way in the name of Adam, and peace be
with you.

CHAPTER II

GENERAL SURVEY

My garden was once a field, and there are people
still in middle age who remember the scene in those
days. Sometimes, from their tone, I suspect they
preferred it so. The place slopes south and spreads
along a front of sixty yards or more. When I came
here the slope was all grass, and supported a single
damson tree and one small evergreen oak. At the
bottom of this slope a wall arose and hid the kitchen
garden. Along the barrier, in a dense mass, there
rioted aucubas, laurels, and other mean evergreen
things. A fine robinia pseudacacia looked down
contemptuously upon this trash. Since then the
aucubas have begun to vanish, though a few still
linger there. Each autumn some more go ; and the
laurels also disappear. Their places are taken by
primus Pissardii, cerasus Padus ; by buddleia globosa,
clumps of phormium, spiraea Lindleyana, a lime tree,
a poplar, a shumach and a purple filbert. I have also
set out staphylea colchica, liriodendron, calycanthus
— the allspice, and a few good thorns and brambles.
These things, though not of note, are worthier than
those that went before them ; and I hope that many
may in their turn give place to their betters.

i 4 MY GARDEN

To the east and west of my garden are trees.
They belong to my neighbours, and I enjoy them
without the responsibility of possession. One, how-
ever, bends at an anxious angle over my pond, when
westerly gales leap upon us. Some day it may come
down ; and then the responsibility will be transferred
from my neighbour to me.

The western clump of trees is very fine, and many
people consider it the making of my patch. A
poplar and horse-chestnuts occupy the foreground ;
behind them stand oaks and a beech; to the south
my own robinia adds her light charm, and in the rear
an unusually grand elm completes the cluster. All
run beautifully together and group well at every
season of the year. In winter their grey traceries
are broken up by a tangle of ivy. The mass of
shadow offers one of those problems a gardener
must court and solved For a shady, eastern-facing
wall there are nothing better, in a rough and ready
way, than berberis and ceanothus, with Japanese
anemones — white and pink, roses, some lilies, white
willow herb, larkspurs, lupins, star asters, epimediums,
mulgediums, oriental poppies, perennial lobelias —
purple and scarlet — and the strawberries, fragaria
indica and fragaria lucida to run about where they
please. Pepper freely with narcissus bulbs. Of
course, many other good creatures will occur to you ;
and, if you want class, you must look higher, prepare a
really distinguished soil, and plant the noble shade-
lovers from Chili and elsewhere. I have one very dark
spot covered with ferns, out of which rise a couple

MY NEIGHBOURS TREES.

"v.-*

GENERAL SURVEY 15

of hundred narcissus poeticus in spring-time. They
make pure light there while the golden-green, young
fern-fronds are uncurling.

My expanse of meadow grass I treated in this
way. There is a first terrace before the house
whereon lie five flower-beds. They are devoted to
spring bedding. Many people reject it ; but I must
have begonias during summer and tulips in spring.
If the beds are bare from November onward, what
matter? I note a dread to behold the naked face
of the Mother manifested by some gardeners. They
submit plans by which you may escape a sight of
the soil from year's end to year's end. But I love
to see the bare ground unveiled in winter, and
watch it drinking the rain or glittering under the
frost. Annuals have also to be considered, and I
hold out for some of them against all comers. After
years of experimenting, I have brought my annuals
down to about a dozen that answer to the most
tremendous tests. These must have room ; and some
should be sown where they are to bloom, if you
propose to do them justice. As to tulips, I am not
greatly attached to " breeders," or even Bybloemens,
but prefer the "self" colours in masses — scarlet,
orange, lemon, purple, and white. I own a weak-
ness for "parrots" also. They are so opulent
and bold and orientally gorgeous. How people can
plant beds of squat hyacinths when they may have
tulips, has always been a mystery to me. You must
choose between the joy of your eye and the delight
of your nose. It is the difference between a row

16 MY GARDEN

of militiamen and a bevy of opera dancers. A
gardener's hyacinth has no excuse for its existence
in my opinion ; nor has a double tulip. In face
of the might of Holland, I declare these things.
But it must be confessed that I am prejudiced in
the matter of most double flowers. Certainly " flore
pleno" always checks my enthusiasm. Even that
grand phrase, "duplex varieties/' which our horti-
cultural specialists sometimes soar to, seldom catches
me. Of course, one excepts many noble things,
but, speaking generally, form is lost. There are,
perhaps, twenty double flowers that no garden can
do without ; but not more.

Below my top terrace I have cut another, and made
a rock-border there. It is forty-five yards long, and
built up two feet high in front. It rises to a height
of five feet, and is about seven or eight feet broad.
Paths run through it, and a straight walk stretches
in front. Shade-loving alpines have another place
called the " red rockery," because it is built of sand-
stone conglomerate. This of which I now speak
lies in the eye of the sun, and I call it the " white
rockery/' It is made of limestone. I find there are
not many saxifrages that object to our sun, though
in their homes the encrusted sorts appear rather to
avoid it. In Italy I found one of this species clinging
to the eastern face of moist rocks; but their root-
hold was extremely slight; they were growing in
sheets of moss ; and no doubt in such quarters the
noon sun would have been too much for them. It
was an object-lesson on the science of planting

CLEMATIS VITALli.-l

GENERAL SURVEY 17

alpines to see them flourishing upon the perpendicular
granite. A lovely rock-foil that does detest hot sun-
shine is Don Pedro del Campo's, generally called
Camposii. Probably there are many others that I
have not got which also object. Umbrosa, despite
its name, seems to be happy enough in sunshine.

On the south side of the path bordering my white
rockery are deep borders for roses, with a row of
pillars behind for noisettes, Ayrshires and other
pillar and climbing sorts.

Then comes another drop, and a wall appears

for delicate shrubs and choice trailing things. The

main mass of the lawn extends beyond, with the red

rockery lying to the east of it and the garden-room to

the west. Then occur peat-beds for rhododendrons,

lilies, and American plants. These lie on either side

of the pond and bog basin. To the left of my house

is a cool corner also devoted to lilies and such things ;

on the right of the dwelling extends a deep, protected

border for shrubs and herbaceous plants. Before the

front door rises a bank fringed with German irises :

purple, white, blue, yellow, chocolate, and rose,

and the many half-tints between. Above them rise

doronicums, that blossom with them, Solomon's seals,

senecios, roses, genista, and cytisus. Then ascend

aralias, eucalyptus, exochorda, syringas, almonds, a

birch tree and a yew. Over the last during autumn

clematis vitalba spreads her veil of silver-grey. This

bank sounds better than it looks, because in the words

we get a suggestion of spaciousness that does not

really belong to it.

1 8 MY GARDEN

Of my house I say nothing. It belongs to the
most uncompromising stucco period, and is hideous
without ceasing from doorstep to chimney. I am
trying hard to conceal it; but it resists vegetable
loveliness with a grim ferocity. We shall smother
it in time, though the operation may take years.
Every winter I urge on vitis inconstans and solanum
jasminoides with praise and rich mulches ; every year
I encourage renewed efforts from passiflora "Con-
stance Elliott/' from roses, the giant magnolia, and
other willing and hearty things; and next spring
buddlea variabilis is going to help ; but there is much
yet to be desired ; indeed, at one point only does the
sulky face of my dwelling entirely disappear. Here
dwells a Banksian rose thirty feet high, whose creamy
glories atone for much in spring. Chimonanthus also
covers a good patch of wall with its fragrant leaves
during summer, but when pale lemon flowers stud
the plant in January their beauty is lost against the
dismal stucco behind them. To see chimonanthus
fragrans as a shrub, standing alone like a flame of
scented fire, as one does in the south of France, is
a noble experience.

My hideous house is one of similar hundreds.
They are called "villa residences." Nature made
this place as beautiful as any spot in Devon; then
came the doctors and said that it was good; and
then rushed in a horde of builders who piled up
stucco with feverish activity for those people the
doctors directed to come here. We live in what
is called a "resort" — that word of dreadful note.

GENERAL SURVEY 19

Certainly one kind of folk who never did resort
hither were architects of taste. Stucco stared from
the top of every hill; stucco squatted toad-like
in every valley ; and then volatile Harley Street
jilted us ; the Riviera rose from out the azure sea ;
and we cater for quite another kind of "resorters"
now. These folk desire piers and promenades, winter
palaces with brass bands playing in them, and re-
freshment bars that run round three sides of the
building. They expect musical entertainments hourly;
and they like automatic machines stationed at every
few yards for the production of sweetmeats, cigar-
ettes, scent, and post-cards. They are ready to drop
their pennies into anything that will offer them a new
sensation. We of the old guard note the occurrence
of the bands and winter palaces in the rates. But we
do not seek them ; we do not need them ; and we
never go near them. Our sun is fast setting; we
belong to the grand old stucco period ; we linger on,
like bluebottles in October, and we pay our increasing
taxes to the end. An hour is close at hand when
men with black faces and comic hats will play our
requiem upon the tambourine and bones. What must
happen to the "resort" after we are all sleeping in
our expensive tombs, I tremble to think. Succeeding
generations may visit the ruins of our villas and
speculate upon the race that inhabited them. Ser-
mons may be preached (if sermons are still permitted)
to the " resorters " of the time to come. They will be
told to take warning by our luxury and indolent ease;
there may even rise some Gibbon to tell the tragic

20 MY GARDEN

story of our decline and fall. Nevertheless, not a
little can be said on our side also. It is we who made
the place — not the tradesmen. I warn our busy
merchant princes that the resorters they now seek
to lure among us won't pay the present prices for
anything — from a piano to a bootlace; and they
won't rebuild our villas when we have departed from
them. Try as the local authorities will to catch the
spirit of Margate, or emulate the merry promiscuity
of Heme Bay, it cannot be done. We are too far
from the genial influence of the metropolis for that.
Personally, I merely wait here in dignified patience
and self-control for the advent of the first Ethiopian
serenader. He may already be here, but I have not
met with him. When I do, I shall rise up, and take
my staff, and hie me to the recesses of certain moun-
tains where resorters cease from troubling and the
tax-gatherers are at rest. Yes, you local geniuses,
you are killing the goose with the golden egg, and
seeking those that produce only copper and silver.
There is a dreadful day of reckoning at hand.

My kitchen garden now offers little to attract the
aesthetic eye ; though once I grew nothing in it but
flowers, and then it was a very beautiful spectacle.
To see annuals in perfection, a mere paltry patch is
not enough. But given a few square yards of each,
and we realise their beauty. My kitchen garden
blazed with colour and hummed with bees in those
days. From broad streaks and flames and patches
of scarlet and gold, blue and white, orange and
lavender, the fruit trees sprang ; then came a shadow

GENERAL SURVEY 21

of discontent, and my other and higher self began to
hint at the price of vegetables. I turned the thing off
lightly for a year; but certain ominous incidents
continued to show me that the danger grew. Of
course, any garden divided against itself is as bad as
a house in the same shattering predicament. A
climax was reached, and my gardener ranged himself
against me. This appeared suicidal from his point of
view, because, in the event of vegetables, my personal
assistance was gone for ever; while, as things
stood, I did half the work of my nursery. But
Sharland is a man of character, and he has made
vegetables his particular life study. His past teems
with successes in the matter of} culinary herbs and
roots ; and it had always been a grievance with him
that I refused to grow them. He was therefore
against me.

I procrastinated for some time; then I prepared
this dreadful list and asked my wife's opinion upon it.
I read it out to her after dinner, and told her that
these plants were my latest additions to the treasures
in my garden.

" Now," I said, " listen to them, and add anything
that strikes you : —

Brassica, six varieties, including Daucus carrota,

oleraceabotrytis,asparagoides Apium graveolens,

and bullata gemmifloram, Pisum sativum, four varieties,

Crambe maritima, Solanum tuberosum,

Faba vulgaris, Rheum,

Phaseolus vulgaris, Spinacia oleracea,

Phaseolus multiflorus, Carum Petroselinum,

Beta vulgaris, Peucedanum sativum,

22 MY GARDEN

Raphanus sativus, Helianthus tuberosus,
Allium Cepa, five varieties, in- Mentha viridis,

eluding Pornim, Thymus vulgaris,

Lactuca sativa, two varieties, Cucumis Melo,

Lycopersicum esculentum, Cucumis sativus,

Tragopogon porrifolium, Cucurbita Pepo ovifera

Salvia officinalis, Solanum melongena — var.
Cynara Scolymus, ovigerum.

u Can you improve upon that ? " I asked, " because
now is the time. You are going from home, and, when
you return, most of these things ought to be ready to
welcome you."

Her face fell.

" I did hope you would have given way about the
vegetables," she said.

" You evade the question," I answered. " Can you,
or can you not, better my list as it stands ? "

"I don't know anything about it," she replied.
" All I do know is that you won't find room for half
of them. No doubt they are all expensive. You
seem to have a curious way of selecting your
plants by the cost ; and if ever you had to sell
them again, you know perfectly well what would
happen."

"All these things are cheap enough," I told her.
"With one or two exceptions, they will be grown
from seed."

" And will, of course, take up every atom of room
as usual You promised — faithfully promised — a
border of parsley." There were tears in her voice
as she answered.

I sighed. There were tears in my voice too.

CHIMOS'AS'THVS FRAGHAXS.

GENERAL SURVEY 23

" Yes/' I admitted ; " they will take up every atom
of room worth mentioning, as you say."

" Then why grow them ? " she asked. " Surely you
have enough rubbish in the garden. At least, I don't
mean rubbish exactly, but sombre things that are
merely botanically interesting. Now this list of
plants that nobody ever heard of — I'm sure they
can't be interesting — not all of them/'

" Not one," I assured her. " They are about as
dull as ditch-water. I know them — intimately. But
Sharland is so exceedingly anxious to have them.' 9

"That's absurd," said my wife sternly. "You
ought not to give in to the gardener as you do.
Please be firm about it, and tear up this list at once."

" You really say that ? " I asked.

"Yes, I do," she replied.

44 Honestly you advise me to destroy this list ? "

" Honestly. You remember the last half-hardy
list that I made you tear up. You were glad after-
wards when the blizzard came, and thanked me."

I took my paper from her hand.

44 You shall have your way," I said. u But before
destroying these notes, it may interest you to hear
their story in English."

" Not at all," she declared. " I love flowers as well
as you do— perhaps better; but there are times —
Frankly, I can't help feeling rather hurt about the
kitchen garden. Fresh vegetables are so grotesquely
dear here. No, I'm not interested in these plants."

44 Nevertheless/' I answered, " I will read them to
you in our own tongue. As a personal favour, oblige

24 MY GARDEN

me by listening to them. The gardener, I repeat,
was delighted with them. He has already planned
the ground, and will be much disappointed."

Then I read out the dismal tale, and, with the
glamour of a dead language stripped from it, each
item fell upon my wife's ear in stark English : —

" Cabbage, six varieties, includ- Radish,

ing broccoli and Brussels Onion, Ave varieties, includ-
sprouts, ing leeks,

Seakale, Lettuce, two varieties,

Broad beans, Tomato,

French beans, Salsify,

Runner beans, Sage,

Beetroot, Globe artichokes,

Carrot, Jerusalem artichokes,

Celery, Mint,

Peas, four varieties, Thyme,

Potatoes, Melons,

Rhubarb, Cucumbers,

Spinach, Marrows,

Parsley, Aubergine."
Parsnip,

Of all beautiful flowers in nature, there is none
more beautiful than the smile of my wife. Unpre-
judiced people will vouch for it.

She smiled now. She said, " If s lovely ; but you've
missed asparagus ! "

" Into the waste-paper basket they go !" I answered,
and suited the action to the word. But she quickly
dived after them ; and now they can all be seen in
their seasons — poor, harmless, necessary wretches —
covering my good ground and sprawling under my
good frames.

GENERAL SURVEY 25

Not that everything went smoothly ; far from it.
When the actual struggle began with uprooting and
deep digging, I had many a painful hour. I felt
much as Adam must have felt when he was driven
foot by foot out of the Original Garden. I crept
away before serried ranks of Spring onions. Cab-
bage in all its plebeian luxuriance marched coarsely,
triumphantly onward, and thrust me before it ; escha-
lots advanced in echelon ; potatoes turned my right
flank; tomatoes scaled my walls; Sharland led his
legions in person, and was prepared to die for them
in the last trench. So that smiling region was con-
verted into a utilitarian waste. Finally I threw up a
bank of Indian corn and refused to abandon another
yard. Then, while the enemy was busy perfecting
his formations, dark thoughts came to me of a counter-
attack. I dreamed of planting sun-flowers among the
Jerusalem artichokes, and mixing sweet peas with the
green ones. It would have been magnificent, but
not war.

At present the limits are fixed, and, like Canute to
the sea, I have said to this green ocean of culinary
stuff, "Thus far and no farther." Probably the
result will be the same. Only yesterday I saw
Sharland looking thoughtfully at a sunny corner, as
the farmer regards his fattening porkers. I know
what is in his mind. I have seen him and my wife
in deep converse there. They spring apart guiltily
when I suddenly pop up from a patch of something.
But I am not deceived.

There are, however, certain oases left in this desert

26 MY GARDEN

of nourishment ilfy alstromerias — a bed of them
five yards long and one broad — are well established
and wonderful to see in summer. These so far have
escaped. I will say of my gardener that he is a
sportsman. He felt that it would be wicked folly
to attack these fine things. He came to them after
a great victory over calystegia pubescens. Alstro-
meria met him in the hour of success, and he spared
it I suspected that calystegia was merely scotched
and not killed; but the issue proved that hydra
actually slain. I had secreted a few tentacles after
the battle was over, however, and die flower is still
with me.

CHAPTER III

THE GARDEN-ROOM

Upon the left-hand side of my garden is a range of
shrubs. It starts with a big araucaria imbricata, or
monkey-puzzler, proceeds to laburnum, deutzia, ber-
beris, Portugal laurel, yew, and euonymus. These
mingle together, and the row terminates with an
arbutus. Remember to accent the first syllable of
this word. Only scholars, familiar with the classics,
pronounce it correctly ; and one of them put me
right in the matter. An American author was good
enough recently to send me a poem. With excellent
art it extolled the beauties of the Brandy wine River ;
and this line occurred in it : —

" Home of arbutus and primeval pine."

If the poet had written,

" Home of primeval pine and arbutus,"

nobody could have found any fault.

Against this tall bank of handsome nobodies there
cuddles my garden-room. It is shaped like Cupid's
bow, with the entrance at the handle. Half has been
covered with red tiles ; the remainder of the roof is
an open cage, and over it many climbing plants
make a translucent canopy of flowers and cool green

«7

■3»^^ %><^^^^*m

28 MY GARDEN

light in summer. The structure has no walls, but
is supported by red brick pillars ; and outside it
run two tiers of beds semicircled to the shape of
the edifice. On the right of the garden-room stands
a ginkgo, in foliage like an enormous maiden-
hair fern, and, close by, the cercis makes a bright
rosy cloud with its inflorescence in spring-time.
Below it ceanothus, u gloire de Versailles," prospers
in the arms of the Judas tree. To the left is a very
warm and snug corner. Here, in the lew, as we say,
stands a prosperous acacia. Its glaucous green comes
very beautifully against a bank of escallonia behind ;
it flowers industriously, but the quality of the bloom
is uncertain, for our spring weather too often ruins
it. At the feet of this monarch of my garden,
melianthus major, the Cape honey flower, prospers
with lovely sea-green foliage, and a young chamaerops
Fortunei thrives close by. This Chusan palm is, of
course, perfectly hardy in the west country. I have
only room for one, but, where space happens to be
no object, they should be turned freely into the open
air as soon as they get too large and clumsy for
ordinary pot management. A cousin of mine, who
is a gardener of distinction, when she finds that a
few of these palms are beginning to defy manage-
ment, turns them out of doors and plants them in
threes at the corners of large triangular beds. Seen
thus, they present a very imposing appearance.
During summer, palms should be supported with
musa, or, failing him, with cannas in variety, with
caladium esculentum, clumps of agapanthus, and

-^ ^F

THE GARDEN-ROOM 29

plants of hedychium Gardnerianum. Of these, only
the caladium comes indoors during winter with me.
A very favourite foliage plant of mine is this
elephant's ear. Some monster roots came to me
from the tropics, and they have gone from strength
to strength. The mighty leaves, full of wonderful,
mingled greens, are grand to see. It prospers any-
where, but best likes my bog basin, assumes quite
enormous dimensions there, and reflects its huge
leaves in the pond. I dig it up to put it out of
danger in the winter, and that corner of the garden
always seems lonely when it has gone. Everybody
knows the feeling of desertion after some favourite
thing passes away and leaves a whole weary year to
be endured without it; but I never heard of any
other gardener feeling the least sentiment about
elephant's ear. Of course, if one transfers it to a
pot and keeps it in the greenhouse or conservatory,
it will go on with the business of living cheerfully
enough. This is what I have to do with wigandia
Vigieri also. I reduce his luxuriance, trim him back
and pot him up long before danger of frosts. I fell
in love with him lolling over a wall at Mentone.
There he attains the size of a small tree, and flowers
magnificently. In February he is a mass of fine
purple blossom above the gigantic leaves, and glad-
dens the heart in company with acacia, tecoma,
sparmannia, roses, and citrons in fruit I have grown
wigandia from seed, and during summer he makes
noble efforts to justify himself with us ; but the time
of genial temperature is too short, and he has to be

30 MY GARDEN

shorn and hustled indoors just as he begins to reveal
his character and get hopeful about his future. The
slightest touch of frost upsets a young plant, and
reduces it to limp and ragged death.

Now, concerning the creeping and trailing things
upon my garden-room, it must be confessed that
there is not space for more than twenty or so. The
quantity is meagre, but the quality may be accounted
fair. Vitis, of course, comes first among deciduous
climbers, and of these vitis vinifera only happens by
chance. You would hardly expect him ; but I had a
black Hamburg, whose room was wanted for some-
thing else ; so out she came, and here she is ; and a
great fuss she made about it. Though I gave her a
cosy corner, with the arbutus to shelter her and a
purple clematis to hug her into a good temper, she
sulked for two years before she began to settle down.
She has not even yet, in her third out-of-door year,
considered the question of fruit Vitis heterophylla,
from Japan, is a strong and free-growing vine. This
fruits late with me; but I generally see the berries
really ripe with their amethystine bloom. From
purple they go to a lovely azure, like the sky of
spring. The variegated species is a more delicate
and dainty customer, but splendid for a big rockery.
Vitis Labrusca, the "fox" grape, has not considered
fruiting for an instant up to the present time ; though
he grows steadily. He came two years ago from
America, in a cardboard box, and he had for company
some nelumbiums and a slug. Sentiment, of course,
is out of place within the borders of a garden, and an

THE GARDEN-ROOM 31

emotional nature will seldom be found together with
the highest records in horticulture. I confess to
hesitation about that slug. It seemed hard to have
come so far merely to die. If he had been a showy
and dashing slug, it is very probable I should have
spared him and let him loose, hoping that he was one
of the meat-eating, harmless, useful variety ; but there
was nothing to elevate him above other slugs except
the accident of American birth. For some reason or
other he put me in mind of the West Indian turtles —
those poor monsters that are captured by the light of
the moon when they come ashore with their wives, in
Tobago and elsewhere. After entering captivity they
are branded on the yellow shells of their stomachs ;
they are hoisted aboard steamers by their flippers and
despatched homeward to death. Death too often
overtakes them long before they reach England. I
once came back from the West Indies in a great
storm, and the sole bright spot of each desolate and
anxious day was turtle-soup for dinner. If, however,
the unhappy reptiles get to London alive, instantly
they have their poor throats cut and their precious
juices extracted to support aldermen by night and
stock-jobbers by day.

My slug died, and I consoled myself with the reflec-
tion that he had lived a full life, enjoyed some great
experiences for a slug, and crossed the Atlantic in a
crack mail steamer without paying a cent for his

Vitis purpurea has beautiful claret-coloured foliage ;
while the leaves of vitis Coignetiae, or Madame Coig-

32 MY GARDEN

net's vine, take gorgeous tints of scarlet and crimson
during October. V.Thunbergii will be found even more
splendid in death. Numerous other rare and distinct
vines I lack, and two of the most beautiful, V. arborea
and V. flexuosa major, from the Southern United
States, I have only seen at Kew Gardens. Of late we
can record notable additions to the family. It seems
that Vitis, Ampelopsis, and Cissus are now, very wisely,
merged into one genus. It is pleasant for us duffers
to know that even the highest botanical swells may
get themselves into hopeless muddles sometimes.
This happened with respect to vitis, for many of the
varieties are dioecious, which means that the male
and female plants keep themselves to themselves —
just as husbands and wives have occasionally been
known to flourish best in separate establishments.
Deluded by this aloofness, botanists have given dif-
ferent names to the different sexes ; and some species
have actually had to struggle under as many synonyms,
or aliases, as a begging-letter writer. Then the great
men show one another up, and you and I snigger, in
our rude amateur way, when we hear of professors
coming to grief thus and actually getting hot about
it, and saying bitter things concerning stamens and
pistils and so forth. It is the mark of the average
small professor that he absolutely hates to be wrong.
He begins by seeking truth; too often he ends by
denying it to every theory other than his own.
Indeed, the curse of teaching seems to be that one
so often develops from it an objection to learn. But
now all these errors about vitis are going to be cor-

THE GARDEN-ROOM 33

rected We have the authority of Mr. James H.
Veitch that light is dawning upon this confusion;
and no man knows more about the matter than does
he. To Veitch — name of immortal memory — we owe
countless botanical treasures, and every season adds
to our obligations. Many new and exquisite vines
can now be obtained, and, among lovely things that
I am open to receive from anybody (and will pay
carriage), are the true vitis Thunbergii ; vitis Cali-
fornia, a tremendous grower ; vitis aconitif olia, a gem
from China ; vitis armata, the beautiful thorny variety
from Central China ; and vitis megaphylla, most dis-
tinct of all the new arrivals in this family. It is worth
repeating here that vitis inconstans, or ampelopsis
Veitchi — undoubtedly the best known garden climber
in the world — was introduced to England by the late
Mr. John Gould Veitch. He discovered it at Fusi-
yama, in Japan, during i860, upon the occasion of the
first ascent of that sacred mountain by Europeans;
and eight years later the plant began to be distributed.
Lilium auratum was met with during the same expedi-
tion. What a red-letter day ! I should be inclined
to give my gardener a whole holiday upon that anni-
versary if I knew it.

After vitis one thinks of clematis. The vine and
he are good friends, and seem to prosper in company.
Cirrhosa, followed by Montana, begins the show ; then
comes Jackmanni. One of these has climbed into my
arbutus, and, from that point, occasionally deludes the
philistine into thinking that I have a new shrub. The
lanuginosas — white, lavender, and purple-red — are

34 MY GARDEN

never weary of flowering with me. A viticella hangs
apart, and has made a Siberian crab her home ; and
graveolens, the yellow clematis, prospers on a " John
Downy" apple tree. I believe this sort of thing is
hardly classical, but in a little spot, like my garden,
we cannot have trees wasting their branches when the
slight creepers and climbers are waiting for neces-
sary support. Everything has got to lend a hand or
a bough here. We all work together, and we shall
struggle on until my entire acre is swallowed up.
Then I propose passing the enterprise over to Nature,
and shall stand aside and interfere no more, and watch
the survival of the fittest, and make scientific notes on
the relative vitality of contending genera.

For some stupid reason only known to himself,
clematis coccinea has so far flowered but sparingly.
He reaches the budding stage, then gives up and
pretends the year's work is done. The annual
struggle into the boughs above him leaves him in-
different and spiritless when the time for bloom
arrives. A very little more of this malingering, and
the Texan goes. I can have no skulking in my
garden. He has got all he wants ; he is among
friends. There is not a shadow of excuse, unless it
be, indeed, that he lives too near his relatives. How-
ever, one has no leisure for these family affairs. I
give clematis coccinea a last chance. Let him fail to
justify himself again, and his place shall know him no
more. Probably a gay, young coccinea hybrid will
appear instead; and I ought to select "Sir Trevor
Lawrence," because, even in form of a coccinea cle-

THE GARDEN-ROOM 35

matis, it is only right that such a notable name among
gardeners should be represented here. Clematis
Davidiana is a variety of C. tubulosa, and has a long-
tubed bloom and stiff, upright habit.

Clematis alpina, or atragene alpina, according to the
older authorities, must be considered a pearl above
price. People don't make enough fuss about this
treasure, and very few grow it. I have three feeble
things, but when I want to see what it can do at its
best, I visit the garden of a friend, where it may be
seen in full beauty. It occurs in Siberia, in Austria,
in the Pyrenees, and in Manchuria. To see it
flourishing wild must be a noble experience. If
coloured pictures lie not, the Austrian plant is the
best. Certainly that is lovely, but I have seen no
other.

Let us now turn to some more climbers. Akebia
quinata grows on my garden-room — a hardy plant
enough here, and fond of peat. Next to him — also
in peat — flourishes mitraria coccinea — a beautiful
scarlet-flowered shrub with climbing aspirations. It
is hardier than people seem to think. Mine came from
the open in Scotland, blooms freely, and grows with
steadiness. Wistaria chinensis skirts along the top of
my red tiles and prospers there ; aristolochia sipho
also goes slowly ahead. As a flowerer he is doubtless
a poor thing compared with some of his hot-house
relations; but the huge foliage may be called fine,
and it takes a good colour during autumn. Periploca
graeca harbours next to him, and shows him how to
grow. In July it is a mass of little brown stars. This

36 MY GARDEN

silk vine does almost too well, and may ere long have
to pursue his progress elsewhere. The reward of
luxuriance in a small garden is often the reward of
zeal in a small world. People, and some plants, know
this ; they perceive how easy it is to over-do it, and
they err on the safe side. Gardeners, for instance,
are only liable to the negative error. The over-zealous
gardener is a fearful wild fowl, but fortunately as rare
as the unicorn. Some industrious things have already
been banished from my garden-room. Salpichroa
rhomboidea had to go. He did in one season an
amount of work that would have been quite reason-
able and creditable in ten years. At the end of the
autumn, Sharland, a boy and myself tackled him
together. We threw ourselves on him, held him
down, and lopped off a thousand branches. Then,
when he became weaker from loss of sap, we dug him
up and carried him off. He was borne insensible to
the kitchen garden, and, while still unconscious,
dropped into a hole under an old russet apple tree.
This year he is sprawling everywhere as if nothing
had happened to him, and the old russet has been
enveloped. Though it may seem harsh to say so,
salpichroa 1 is not a plant for a gentleman's garden.
I don't assert that he is vulgar, but coarse he certainly
must be called. His fate has been already determined
so far as I am concerned I shall throw him out

1 Salpichroa, By the way, the Supplement of Professor Nicholson's
grand Dictionary of Gardening tells as that this plant is half hardy and
suitable for trellises. Don't believe it. Salpichroa is as hardy as a polar

CEANQTHUS "GLOME DE VERSAILLES."

THE GARDEN-ROOM 37

upon some lonely, desolate waste by night ; or else,
perhaps, poison him in his drink. He comes from
Buenos Ayres, and ought not to have been moved
from there.

How different is the conduct of dioscorea japonica.
This great tuber lies deep and snug under the central
pillar of the garden-room. From here it annually
sends up a sprightly bine, which leaps aloft and
tumbles and twines about with pretty heart-shaped
leaves, like bryony. A similar trifling inflorescence it
also possesses. The foliage takes a fine pure yellow
tone in October, and sprays of it can then be cut
to accompany your star asters. Apios tuberosa does
not appeal to me. He is, however, fairly regular in
his habits, and, though a subterranean wanderer, com-
paratively steady. Thladiantha dubia, on the contrary,
possesses some sense of humour, and plays the wildest
pranks underground. I have a bachelor plant —
consequently no fruit occurs. He first came up from
where I put him, and hung out his handsome leaves
and golden bells ; he rejoiced me and vanished. But
next year, when I was prepared to welcome him in
the old spot, he did not appear. Presently, however,
I found him ramping riotously yards away from his
former home. I have given up trying to catch him,
and let him go where he likes, merely decapitating him
when he thrusts forth a downy nose in April at some
impossible place. The difficulty, of course, is to
" locate " him, as the Americans say. You may grub
about for yards before you find the tubers that will
give next year's exhibition. " Dubia " is an excellent

38 MY GARDEN

name for him, because we never know where to have
him ; but he received it for other reasons. Eccremo-
carpus scaber merely calls for respectful mention.
Adlumia cirrhosa won't prosper with me, which is
hard, for I admire this little North American biennial
exceedingly. I am frightened of rhus toxicodendron,
the poison vine, though to see it in autumn is a good
sight. I knew a great gardener who tamed the poison
ivy— charmed it, apparently. He could handle it
without hurt; but most people suffer more or less
from contact with the wicked thing. Celastrus scandens
I do not find specially attractive. It grows tremen-
dously, but I have as yet failed to note the beautiful
fruit of the catalogues, though my plant is now an
adult in flourishing circumstances. Abobra viridiflora
lives beside this staff vine, and annually twines her
dainty foliage into the hardier thing. But I have seen
neither her fragrant inflorescence nor scarlet berries
There may be some conspiracy between these two
plants to deny me fruition. Another year of sterility
will have to see them separated. Abobra might pos-
sibly do better if dug up and treated like a dahlia;
but I find so much to do in my garden that I am
most unwilling to disinter anything which can safely
be trusted underground. My Cape bulbs with their
last dying foliage wave imploring messages to me to
remove them, and either pot or store them against the
accumulated horrors of our early springtime ; but
only in certain cases do I take the least notice. Many
of them surprise themselves by their constitutions,
and come braced and healthy to business in April ;

THE GARDEN-ROOM 39

others, I find, have gone where the good bulbs go.
But touching that matter you shall hear anon.

A scarlet rambler and a common hop potter about
together over a corner of my garden-room ; and there
ought to be many more other roses. Cucumis perennis
catches my eye next with great, grey-green leaves ;
but this is another of the plants that always arrive a
day behind the fair. Autumn surprises it arranging
its wares, and, at the first breath of serious cold, it
flings up everything, discards its immature buds,
drops its leaves, and hurries underground again. The
native place of this perennial cucumber is doubtful.
That is to be regretted. Perhaps, if we knew where
he came from, we might learn the climatic conditions
there, and attempt to reproduce them. No doubt a
cool house would answer the purpose.

There is never any trouble about the flowering of
polygonum baldschuanicum from Bokhara. He gives
me two displays — in spring and autumn. The open
part of my garden-room supports him, and he foams
with flowers there in a beautiful sheet of palest rose.
He is a tremendous grower, and will soon be in the
trees, tumbling among them. Muehlenbeckia showers
its beauty elsewhere. This plant is no great climber
but an excellent tumbler — good to fill a spare corner
or flank a flight of steps. Above or beside it should
be set some straight, stiff, sword-like thing — gladiolus
or iris. Then you will be pleased at the effect! Ever-
lasting peas don't appeal to me, except the hand-
some and tender lathyrus pubescens, but they occur
here ; and actinidia volubilis from Japan I also have,

40 MY GARDEN

together with berchemia and menispermum cana-
dense, the moon-seed. The orange-red mutisia
decurrens, though slightly fussy and hard to please,
has been invited to try in a sheltered spot. His
dwelling-place is the Chilian Andes, and one does
not blame him for a little home-sickness.

I come to tropaeolum. Ma jus looks after himself in
my garden and we meet him everywhere rambling
joyously about in summer-time. Sometimes I smile
if he has made a happy choice, and selected some
barren corner for his fireworks; and sometimes I
frown, and seize him and drag him up and hurl him
out, if, too greatly daring, he has rushed in where
perhaps the choicest creeper or twiner would fear
to tread. But I like this Indian upon the place. He
has something in common with a good-hearted but
neglected dog. He asks for nothing and gets it If
we bestow upon him a friendly pat sometimes, he
can hardly believe his luck. Tropaeolum speciosum is
one of the plants that brings a sigh with it if you
live by the southern sea. We all declare that we
grow it ; but we never bother you to come and see
the result We never photograph it ; we hurry past
it ; our faces fall when that tropaeolum is the matter.
No, the flame-flowered nasturtium is but little good
to us. 1 Of course I know what it does in Scotland.
There is no consolation in that. I become mean and
petty about tropaeolum speciosum now, when north-
country folk expatiate upon it. " Yes/' I say, " I hear

1 Some gardeners, however, do well with it among us. They are the
rare geniuses, who do well with everything.

THE GARDEN-ROOM 41

it does fairly well with you; but have you seen it
in Chili ? " They have not — more have I — yet the
mere question depresses them, and enables me swiftly
to change the subject. I may remark that tropaeolum
tuberosum does extremely well here, and polyphyllum
is one of the prides of my rockwork in June. T. pen-
taphyllum, however, refuses to bloom with me out
of doors. He comes from Buenos Ayres, like salpi-
chroa, but lacks that well-meaning ruffian's giant
energy, and must have an indoor place. The
Canary creeper I despise, and with greenhouse
tropaeolums — such as Jarrattii and azureum — I have
absolutely and utterly failed.

There remains, among perennial things, to note
lonicera. Fragrantissima grows on my garden-room,
but none else. To be frank, I have lost heart about
honeysuckles since seeing lonicera Hildebrandiana on
the west wall of a friend's house. There it revels
and reaches tq the roof. Its extraordinary foliage and
immense and fragrant trumpets of bloom— each four
inches long and of the most glorious sunrise hue —
are a wonder and a delight. After beholding such
a honeysuckle, I feel that Nature has spoken the
highest possible word on this subject, and lift up
my voice, and bless Upper Burma for her invaluable
achievement. But who was this Hildebrand ?

CHAPTER IV

THE GARDEN-ROOM {continued)

During this Autumn I have missed Fame by a hair's
breadth. The matter belongs to annual climbers, and
may therefore be introduced upon this page. It con-
cerns a gourd that I brought with me from one of the
most beautiful gardens in Europe. When I say that
the gourd came from Sir Thomas Hanbury's place,
La Mortala, near Mentone, those who have walked
through that glorious scene will know all about it
Sir Thomas took a slice of the Italian coast and,
enchanter that he is, turned it into the most wonder-
ful fairyland of flowers that shall be found even upon
the margins of the Mediterranean. There are things
in those gardens that make one sigh with pleasure
even to remember. There are plants unique in culti-
vation flourishing there. I say 'unique' deliberately,
for these specimens long ago reached that happy
valley, and no man now knows whence they originally
came. The mighty ones of Kew pay pilgrimages to
La Mortala, and bow down and worship at the feet of
the succulents there assembled. Their owner himself
declared to me that the flowers of some among his
stapelias are more amazing than any orchid. The
aloes flame like fire; the agaves attain proportions

THE GARDEN-ROOM 43

beyond one's dreams ; there is no such collection of
citrons in Europe — from citrus Aurantium Bergamia,
the bergamot orange, to the wonderful 'Buddha's
fingers/ they range, through every variety of shad-
dock, lemon, lime, kumquat, and mandarin. In one
spot there shall be seen half an acre of anemones —
the most beautiful sheet of pure colour that I have
ever beheld. Rare trees rise before you at every
turn. Blossoms fall in scented showers upon the
wanderer; water tinkles from dim green nests of
exotic ferns ; the fragrance and the loveliness of in-
numerable roses haunt each glade ; in the wild por-
tions of the estate, Nature has her free way, and
indigenous oleanders blossom by a mountain stream.
The blue sea hems in all. Upon my first visit I was
so much moved that I made an epigram about this
garden. The effort, however, created no special
attention ; but it shall not perish unrecorded.

" To gild refined gold and paint the lily
Are feats that most of us consider silly ;
But you, who laid this jewel by the sea,
Have added loveliness to Italy."

Of course twenty such books as mine would not
serve to tell of one-half the wonders at La Mortala.
I am merely concerned with a single magic gourd
grown there and brought home by me to this country.
To the eye it lacked any particular significance, being
merely a little golden fruit, rather flat in shape, and
about the size of a large orange. In the spring I
opened it, took six seeds from five hundred, and
planted them. They came up at once, and were

44 MY GARDEN

duly set out during May. All prospered and all
fruited freely. But now began the enchantments
of Sir Thomas — that horticultural Prospero of the
Italian seaboard. Those six vines bore no less than
four distinct varieties of fruit ! I show you a picture
of them, and can bring witnesses to prove the story.
Two plants produced flat, small gourds, like the
parent; two furnished a gourd also flat, but larger
than the first, and marked with alternate bars of dark
and light green ; one vine carried an oval gourd of a
very dark green throughout ; and the last bore warted
fruit, rather bigger than an ostrich's egg, of a pale corn-
colour, streaked and splashed with brilliant orange.

Now this is a most interesting experience, and
botanists ought to make a great deal of it. What
troubles me is not so much the scientific side, as the
opportunity that I have thrown away. Had I guessed
at the magic nature of this little gourd from the South ;
had I received any inkling of its amazing properties, I
should, for one year, have devoted my entire garden
to the raising of gourds, and become the greatest
gourd expert in the world. Because, if six seeds
produced four varieties, twelve must have given me
eight, and a hundred, no less than sixty-six. Multiply
sixty-six by five, for the gourd contained at least five
hundred seeds, and we get three hundred and thirty
different gourds. But there are not three hundred
and thirty gourds known to cultivation. Therefore
it follows that, had I produced such a crop of new
varieties, my name must have rung through gourd
circles to the end of time.

I.QrilO>F>i:iOSi:U SCAXhliXS.

THE GARDEN-ROOM 45

I may remark that the Indian corn in the picture is
also grown by me* Green corn is a pleasant vegetable,
and I surprise Americans who come to see me by
giving them that familiar dish. Let them have but
that, and ice, and a squash pie, and they ask no more
— but to be allowed to talk about themselves and their
noble country. This concession I freely and willingly
grant The advantage is all on my side. Of course
the corn in my photograph is no longer green. Some
we annually permit to ripen for next year's crop.

Upon a small garden-room gourds are rather clumsy,
and I only have light annual things that leap aloft
swiftly, and do not annoy the regular residents with
their tendrils and other attentions. Ipomoea is first
favourite, and grandiflora and other varieties of "Bona-
Nox " are beautiful. I like also versicolor — a cheerful
thing, that frets the dying green of summer with its
scarlet and white blossoms, and only gives up with
the first frost. I hear that amphicarpa monoica should
be grown by everybody, and I know that thunbergia
alata should be. This last, however, does better as a
trailer indoors; and when you see fifty pots of it
along the front of the conservatory stage, you will be
pleased. Such a grateful spectacle puts a man into
a good temper, when many better things may fail to
do so. Humulus japonicus, the variegated hop, I much
like and always grow ; dolichos lablab I scorn, and he
had hardly flowered with me before I banished him
for ever. Cobaea scandens will often survive a winter
here ; but I care not very much for him, because he
made trouble in my conservatory, and ramped there,

46 MY GARDEN

and thrust himself out of the windows in the roof and
waved to passers-by, and behaved rudely. For the
moment he is under a cloud with me; but I may
grow him again some day. My favourite is lophosper-
mum scandens, now classed with maurandya, I hear ;
though if I had arranged this botanical shuffle, I
should have classed maurandya with him. Lopho-
spermum is generally considered a cool house climber,
and in the north it may be so ; but here I grow her
as an annual on my garden-room. Her habit is light
and dainty; her deep, rosy, trumpet-shaped flowers
stud the long branches and make harmony with the
pleasant green of the leaves. My picture represents
a single plant grown from seed that ripened in the
open air last year. Lophospermum is at her best in
mid-October. Maurandya I like also and have grown,
but she is a much smaller thing, and not quite so good-
hearted with me.

One might mention fifty other annuals and peren-
nials much to be desired in connection with the sides
of a garden-room ; and I hope you have them, and
enjoy them, and go on adding to the stock. Creepers
and twiners are a noble family; also those many
shrubs with a tendency to climb. Of these I have a
few only in sequestrated nooks. Among them berberi-
dopsis corallina flowered for the first time this year,
and trachelospermum jasminoides did the same. This
plant is better known as rhynchospermum among his
intimates. He comes from Shanghai, but will flourish
and shed light and sweetness against a sheltered wall
in these parts. Holbcellia, stauntonia, and lardizabala

THE GARDEN-ROOM 47

all do well in like positions. Stauntonia at least I can
vouch for personally, because a magnificent specimen
is known to me. This has covered the front of a lofty
terrace, and is now climbing an elm tree as though to
the manner born.

Cocculus I know not, but it has good friends ; smilax
aspera I dug up from his home in a southern wood,
and nearly tore myself to pieces while so doing. He
has a red-hot corner of my rockery, and I wait for
spring to know if he is still there and will peep out
when April calls. But it may be that he has perished.
To see this plant abroad at the time of fruiting is
good. The glory vine, or parrot's beak: clianthus
puniceus, is, perhaps, a little over-rated. It prospers
against a wall with me ; but it is a poor thing com-
pared to the noble clianthus Dampieri. That I
grew once, and only once, in a warm, belladonna lily
border outside a hothouse. It was one of the most
beautiful things I ever produced, and much I mourned
it when it passed away and left not a seed behind.
This glory vine germinates but sparingly even in
pots ; though perhaps that is because the usual quality
of seed is indifferent.

There remains lapageria among the highest class for
open air, and a friend of mine beautifully flowers both
the white and crimson varieties in a snug but shady
corner. Napoleon's Bell, as it is called, comes from
Chili, and apparently, like the rest of Chilians, can easily
have too much sun. The best I have seen out-of-doors
are inferior to well-grown, cool-house specimens.

Such plants as kerria, amelanchier, desmodium,

48 MY GARDEN

forsythia, eleagnus, hamamelis, halimodendron, rubus
(including phoenicolasius, deliciosus, and nutkanus),
pittosporums, olearias, and Carpentaria, need no
wall with me. Most of these flower well and grow
steadily. The lovely callistemon receives neither
shelter nor support. Of other precious things that
I possess as small hopeful plants may be mentioned
halesia tetraptera, the silver bell, or snowdrop tree ;
rhododendron racemosum; kalmia glauca; cerci-
diphyllum; eriobotrya; limonia trifoliata; parrotia;
various eucalyptus; colletia; eucryphia; coriaria;
abelia; stephanandra ; prunus triloba; ribes specio
sum, and corylopsis pauciflora.

Such glorious creatures as embothrium coccineum,
styrax, punica, fremontia, grevillea, stuartia, cassia,
cantua, crinodendron and other mighty princes
among flowering shrubs, I possess also— mostly as
promising infants.

Now in front of my garden-room stretch rounded
beds. One lies on each side of the entrance, and
each is built up in two steps. Upon the right are
ranges of peat ; upon the left spreads a rich loam.
In the peat I have azalea mollis, with a range of
colour from pale yellow to flaming scarlet. All these
hues are warm, while those of the rhododendrons
are cold. They must be kept widely apart. I caught a
bed of rhododendrons in a line with the azaleas once,
and was quite shaken and startled at the violence
of the colour-contrast But the azaleas are over be*
fore the rhododendrons reach their prime. Under
my azaleas spring up bulbs of various muscari. The

THE GARDEN-ROOM 49

grape hyacinths glory in peat. Of these botryoides,
white and blue, go beautifully together; azureum is
first and fairest to my mind ; moschatus is sweetest
The yellow moschatus was called Tibcadi of old,
and fine roots fetched a guinea apiece in Holland.
You can get one for eightpence now. The race
received its name from the Turks. They first called
it "muscari," because its scent resembled a sort of
musk pastille with which they perfumed their abodes.
Comosus, the tasselled hyacinth, is not beautiful but
interesting. I picked him wild in France with
botryoides. Parkinson says that "the whole stalk
with the flowers upon it doth somewhat resemble a
long Purse tassell, and thereupon divers Gentlewomen
have so named it." That was a happy thought of the
divers gentlewomen ; but their descendants have no
tassels to their purses to-day. Monstrosum is a variety
— the familiar and delightful feathered hyacinth.
This comes last, with a frizzle of pleasant amethystine
flowers in late May. Conicum, called 'Heavenly
blue/ is another much praised by those who know it.
With these hyacinths thrive camassia, gladiolus,
and a few lilies. Apocynum, or dog's bane, did very
well also, but I have eradicated 1 this fly-catcher as
a thing not worth growing. In any case, Devonshire
dogs don't care a button for him. The experiments
upon these beds embrace a sickly gerbera Jamesoni,
an orange tree or two, and camellias. The Trans-
vaal daisy merely lingers, and, as an invalid, is not

1 Quite a mistake. Plant apocynum fa peat • give him a year's start, and
dynamite won't eradicate him.

50 MY GARDEN

interesting; while of the orange trees and camellias
I cannot yet speak with authority. But an orange
tree cast out into my nursery, and allowed to do as
it pleased there under a shady wall, astonished me
this year. As a pot-plant my gardener muddled it ;
yet, in the open, it began to grow rapidly, and now,
in October, is set with flower-buds. I shall en*
courage this specimen by giving it a very important
position beside the garden-room; and the tasselled
and feathered hyacinths will creep to its feet, and the
azaleas will urge it to persist and get established.

Camellias, of course, prosper here, but everybody
tells me the same story : that they don't bud up
properly out of their pots in the open air. I cannot
understand this, and am watching with interest to
see what line they will take with me. The splendours
of azalea pass after spring; but lily and gladiolus
follow, though it is rather hot in summer for the
former family. Longiflorum does the best of them
here — of course renewed annually. Life is too short
to potter about with all the stupid little bulbs this
lily arranges after flowering. Around these beds I
usually carry a cheerful annual to brighten things up
after the azaleas have done. For this purpose a high-
class lobelia does well, or sanvitalia procumbent This
little trailer much appreciates peat, and pleases nearly
everybody with its masses of tiny, golden-rayed, and
black-eyed flowers, like the most miniature of rud-
beckias. But it has never caught Professor Nicholson's
eye ; indeed, I am often shocked to find some special
favourite of mine has failed to earn the supreme

THE GARDEN-ROOM 51

distinction of his asterisk. In the "Dictionary
of Gardening" that star is applied to all plants
11 especially good or distinct" To deny this Order
of Merit is a very delicate matter, and may be doing
the most serious injustice to a plant. About sanvi-
talia I will not argue, but merely chronicle regret
without prejudice. In other cases, however, I am
ready to withstand the whole staff of Kew and
weary everybody, from the curator to the least
gardener's apprentice, with my importunities. Wrong
has been done here and there; and it must be
righted. Assemble, ye gardeners, in your legions !
Listen to mel and if you have tears to shed, be
prepared to shed them now ! For geranium Lancas-
triense has not got a star; and no more has michauxia
campanuloides I There can be no intrigue here; it
is not a case for diplomacy, or patience, or back-
stairs influence. We must meet together in detach-
ments and companies, with the insignia of our craft
waving above us; and we must march over Kew
Bridge like one man and woman, and lift up our
voices in thunder, so that the pagoda and the palm-
houses shake to their foundations. Then will the
great ones tremble, and the director himself may
be expected to rush forth with an asterisk in either
hand ; so that the geranium of Lancaster and Andr£
Michaux's exquisite bell-flower shall be crowned
and uplifted to their proper eminence for ever. 1

1 Conversely, such a plant as mams pumilio gets the star I No doubt
the tittle, creeping wretch secured this honour by those underground
operations at which it is such an adept

,4L JJ ■*!

^^■^

MY GARDEN

Your gladiolus dotes on peat I have lifted conns
of Kelway's hybrids in mid-October that have measured
well over ten inches in circumference. The spikes of
rose and crimson, purple and cream, spring splendidly
here, and brighten the verdant sides of my garden-
room.

Upon the left hand of the entrance are tree paeonies,
with colchicum lilies (szovitzianum) planted among
them. This — loveliest of all the martagon folk — does
heartily, and hangs out its lemon, purple-spotted bells
until the place is fragrant with them ; and my varieties
of mouton paeony also attain to excellence.

In connection with these Japanese tree paeonies, one
thinks of the little maples that come with them and
make such notable decoration. A couple of dozen
or so combined in pots will give you the loveliest
effect you can desire; and since these may be got
in perfection from the West country, together with
every other rare and beautiful plant and shrub
mentioned in this chapter, and many more not
mentioned, I am compelled to write a name. If
you want the latest, loveliest, and best of flowering
treasures from Japan and China, you must seek them
at the famous nurseries of Messrs. Gauntlett & Son,
Redruth. Here shall be found a magnificent collec-
tion of the fairest things that grow ; and it is worth
correcting a fallacy in connection with these great
gardens. People imagine that because a plant has
been raised in Cornwall it must be delicate. The
wildest nonsense is talked about our climate, and we
are supposed to live in the moist heat of a sub-

THE GARDEN-ROOM 53

tropical greenhouse. As a matter of fact, this is
far from true, and — at Redruth, for instance —
very stern winters are experienced. These Japanese
things — acer, paeony, and a hundred of their betters
— are perfectly hardy ; and the fact that scores of
Gauntlett's most enthusiastic clients live in the
Midlands and northern England, is sufficient to
prove it If by chance you take your vacation in
the West, and are a gardener, go to Redruth and
feast your eyes on the rarest and most beautiful
shrubs that you have probably ever seen in your
life. The difference between west and north in
this connection is merely one of position. At Kew,
for instance, where the awful breath of London has
to be fought in winter, the choice shrubs are mostly
trained on walls. Probably they thrive in the same
way elsewhere. With us they do no better, but may
usually be grown without the wall. Xanthoceras
sorbifolia, to take an example, is magnificent at Kew
on a wall ; here it is no finer, but does well without
shelter.

CHAPTER V

THE WHITE ROCKERY

I AM frankly and absolutely for a formal garden.
This may turn you away from me, but I hope not.
Once and for all I declare against the thing called
'landscape - gardening/ and cleave to classic pre-
cedents. Note the high tone I take in this matter.
With a house like mine there really is some excuse
for seeking to ignore it, and developing a garden that
shall be independent of architecture so dreadful;
but no, I will be just; my garden shall shame my
house by its correct proportions and proper adher-
ence to what a garden ought to be. Not that this
garden is classic — far from that ; I wish it was. But
it is a garden, no mere feeble deception. It is a
small piece of ground enclosed by walls ; and, con-
cerning those walls, you are in no doubt for one
moment There is not the least attempt to imitate
natural scenery. There are no winding walks, no
boskages, no sylvan dells, no grottoes stuck with stones
and stalactites. My garden is simply an artificial, but
none the less beautiful, arrangement of all the best
plants that I can contrive to collect

Consider the word ' garden/ It develops by evolu-
tion from the Anglo-Saxon 'geard' and the Middle

THE WHITE ROCKERY 55

English 'garth/ It means 'a yard/ It has rather
less than nothing to do with wild nature, or any
other sort of nature. It is a highly artificial con-
trivance within hard and fast boundaries. We speak
of a zoological garden, a garden of pleasure, a garden
of vegetables. To talk of a 'natural' or a 'wild'
garden, is a contradiction in terms. You might as
well talk of a natural 'zoo/ and do away with bars,
and arrange bamboo brakes for the tigers, mountain-
tops for the eagles, and an iceberg for the polar bears.
Pope and Addison began the 'natural' theory,
or fell in with it as soon as others set the fashion.
They were about as intimate with nature as my
chimney-sweep is with the latest Russian fiction;
but it happened to be the cant of the time, and
they reflected their hour and preached the return
to Nature — du sein des boudoirs. Remember that
very fine jest against our landscape - gardening :
"Rien n'est plus facile que de dessiner un pare
anglais; on n'a qu'& enivrer son jardinier, et k
suivre son trace." I scorn a park, or garden
either, planned upon that groggy pattern. My
paths are straight or circular, as the case requires :
there is no meandering with me. You will perhaps
answer sharply that one cannot meander in an acre,
and that I am like the fox with his tail gone : I
pretend to admire what I have no power to evade.
Believe me, you are wrong. As I say elsewhere, if
my garden were a thousand acres, it should sternly
subscribe to form and design. The architect and
the gardener, like "the walrus and the carpenter,"

56 MY GARDEN

should walk hand in hand ; and I am very sure they
would not weep, if I had the privilege to employ
them upon a garden worthy of the name. Besides,
you can meander in an acre. I have seen the most
horrible tortuosities in half that space.

It is all very well for Addison to quote Horace
and Virgil, and say that art is but the reflection of
nature, and that natural things are more grand and
august than any we may meet with amid the curiosi-
ties of art ; but in the very midst of these platitudes
he urges us to help and improve the natural em-
broidery of the meadows by small additions of art,
and set off rows of hedges with trees and flowers.
Landscape-gardening has produced a deal of fine
writing, and been the death of the old severe instincts.
In this place the result of these views about nature
is, that nine gardens out of ten are smothered with
trees, and become mere natural factories of leaf-
mould and nothing more. The houses are worthy
of these gardens. The trees thrust their elbows in
at the windows ; then people talk about rheumatism.
Give me light and air in a garden — even before
plants.

Upon this subject hear Mr. Reginald Blomfield,
the world-famous architect, who is responsible for
some of the most distinguished modern gardens in
the United Kingdom. He is a hard hitter, I promise
you, and speaks thus in his " Formal Garden of
England" — a fascinating book that you ought not
to be without. " The formal gardener is by his prin-
ciples entitled to do what he likes with nature, but

■""H

THE WHITE ROCKERY 57

the landscapist gets involved in all sorts of contra-
dictions. He ' copies nature's graceful touch/ but
under totally different conditions to the original ; so
far, therefore, from being loyal to nature, he is en-
gaged in a perpetual struggle to prove her an ass."

Now this sound argument justifies me in planting
yucca, agapanthus, and acacia, since I am a formal
gardener, and my object is not to imitate nature, but
to exhibit her productions in a place specially ordered
for that purpose ; but the disciples of Mr. Robinson
have no right to set up bananas in their glades, or
foreign foliage plants for summer bedding. Their
avowed ambition and aim is to copy nature as
closely as they can ; and nature does not grow the
flora of Africa with that of Europe, or mingle the
bog plants of North America and her productions
from the Himalayas. To be logical, every non-
indigenous plant should be banished from these
'natural gardens/ Push the precept to its just
conclusion, and you arrive at a piece of wild waste
land, which is the most perfect natural garden any-
body can aspire to— in other words, not a garden
at all.

Three cheers for Mr. Blomfield ! I go stoutly
along with him until the very end of his book ; and
there— on page 235 — I most reluctantly part com-
pany. His flower -list will not serve my purpose.
It is three hundred years old, and full of scent and
music and charm; but the gardens of our fore-
fathers do not suffice us to-day. There is no objec-
tion to a plant having a botanical as well as a

58 MY GARDEN

familiar name ; and I only find a gardener's catalogue
to be a horrible thing when the names of plants
are given incorrectly. 1 I glory in the writer's pro-
found knowledge of what a garden should be, and
I bow with admiration and respect before pictures
of Badminton, Rycott, Wrest, Haddon, and other
glorious formal gardens from the olden time; but,
touching plants, we must move with the century
if we are gardeners at all. The gillyflower is not
forgot ; Solomon's seal, Jacob's ladder, sweet- William,
bergamot, love-in-a-mist, columbine, and a hundred
other sweet and precious things that our great-grand-
mothers loved, are all honoured in my garden ; but
this is no reason why I should deny myself Car-
pentaria calif ornica, say, or the tiny daffodils from
Spain, or a cluster of calorchortus, or the latest
deep purple loveliness of a new hybrid syringa. I
would have the architect in my garden, if I could —
with his fine old leaden statues, stately vases, sun-
dials, balustrades, and gazebos; but I would never
let him be unkind to the gardener. The case is
made for the jewels, not the jewels for the case.

I am led to these reflections as I walk up and
down in front of my straight, stiff, and formal lime-
stone rock-border. If you look with eyes unpre-
judiced you will find beauty here for twelve months
out of the year. There is, in fact, never a day
without flowers upon this border. But it does not
make any pretence to imitate nature, save in one

1 I saw Pendennii Vdtchii in a sale catalogue only last week, bat the
plant was a pandanos.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 59

particular. I like the relation of rock and soil to
resemble that in which these plants grow at home.
I like to arrange a place and food for their roots,
such as those roots are accustomed to; and I
endeavour to give this plant sunshine and that plant
shade ; this a dry spot, and that a damp one, because
their likes or dislikes in these matters are known, and
they will perish, or at least disappoint, if their needs
are not considered* Indeed they do often enough
refuse to live as it is. Between my ignorance and
the Devonshire climate, many are doomed from their
arrival. This rock-border is merely a theatre for the
display of hundreds of little plants. Nothing could
be more beautiful when the place is one brilliant
sheet of flower-light in June; nothing could be
less like nature's own ordinance, because here are
assembled as many different races of plants as you
will find races of men in an Eastern bazaar. From
all parts of the world they come ; from north, south,
east, and west; from the Cape and Kamtchatka;
from Mount Lebanon and the Rockies ; from India,
Japan, and Australia. I think there are but few
4 gardener's plants' among them. With certain ex-
ceptions my company here are all recognised species.
Some flourish ; some languish ; some perish un-
timely, do what I will to establish them.

By your leave we start at the west end, and I
will spread the panorama before you. Bulbs begin
it where in spring rise the snake's-head fritillaries
and the snake's - head irises. They are scattered
about over this part of the rock-work, and shoot up

6o MY GARDEN

where they please. Other irises also occur here,
but these I reserve for future admiration. Then
you will see a patch of dryas octopetala that I grew
from seed. It loves limestone and creeps steadily for-
ward. Small cyclamens, setaceous phloxes, Oenothera
pumila, and other things are swept away before it,
because dryas will not do everywhere, and the road
must be made smooth. In fruit and flower it is
beautiful. Above, on a separate ledge, grow ixias.
They ought to be dug up in winter, not for their
own sakes, but for the sake of their foliage, which
gets browned by the frost. The leaves spear in
October, and a hard winter rather worries them.
But the blossoms never seem any the worse. What
a grand family this is, and what a pity that nursery-
men's hybrids have quite taken the place of the old
original forms. These I never see or hear of now ;
but their pictures may still be admired in Curtis's
Botanical Magazine of a hundred years ago. No
hybrid that I have grown can compare in beauty to
the old plants. Think of grandiflora, falcate, gracil-
lima aristata, corymbosa (though that's a lapeyrousia
now), and amethystina. But perhaps these fine things
were not as hardy as those we plant to-day. The
green ixia certainly is better in a pot, though I
have bloomed it upon my rock-border very well.

Below the ixias is a stretch where grows the yellow
satin-flower, or sisyrinchium californicum ; the blue
one, S. Bermudiana ; campanulas ; and phlox " G. F.
Wilson" — the best of the whole alpine group of
phloxes, in my opinion. It is a beautiful, pure

THE WHITE ROCKERY 61

lavender colour, a wonderful bloomer, and hardier
than the type. You cannot have too much of this.
Phlox stellaria also showers over the ledges here, and
phlox canadensis is a good thing too in its straggly
way; but, upon the whole, my slugs like it better
than I do. Out of respect for their tastes, my garden
resembles the Zoological Society's to some extent,
for it is full of cages. They are, however, not placed
here to prevent the plants from getting out, but to
keep the slugs from getting in. These zinc collars are
very ugly, but absolutely necessary on my rock-border.
I have slain till I am sick of slaughter. I have used
all the slug-killing prescriptions, and have found them
all equally efficacious. I have such slug preserves that
I can go out and bag a brace or a hundred brace
at any moment. Only yesterday I surprised a snail
that had chosen the comparative seclusion of daphne
cneorum to lay a whole cargo of eggs. I counted the
pearly things, and there were exactly seventy-four.
These hermaphroditic horrors can all lay eggs. So
can the slugs, I understand. Snails are simpler to
catch, on the same principle that a man who has
a house and is his own tenant must be easier to
secure than one who merely flits about among hotels ;
but frankly, I am tired of catching them. I have
destroyed legions; I have taken them with subtle
snares and springes; in Touchstone's words, I have
"made away, translated their life into death, their
liberty into bondage; I have dealt with them by
poison, bastinado, and steel; I have bandied with
them in faction, o'er-run them with policy; killed

6a MY GARDEN

them a hundred and fifty ways." And yet they neither
tremble nor depart. I understand the value of soot
and bran and beer, lime and lime-water and orange-
peel ; I have applied slugicides in every variety that
the advertisements offer; but the slugs persist. Mr.
Robinson has a good remedy. He says that if
Umax agrestis be stabbed or cut through with a
sharp-pointed knife at the shield, the creature dies
immediately. This I know to be true; and I go
further, and believe that if he be divided anywhere,
he likewise dies; but some gardeners question it,
and hold that to halve slugs is to double them — that,
in fact, we ' increase by division/ according to the
accepted horticultural phrase. There is a great deal
of anger, doubt, and ignorance expended on the sub-
ject, and I have never yet heard a respectable theory
of slugs other than my own. This, of course, sounds
vain; but I advance my opinion with the utmost
modesty and deference, make no scientific claims
whatever, and am quite prepared to hear the idea can-
not be sustained. I submit that during the earth's
infancy as a life-bearing planet, Nature created slugs
for her own purpose, and really found them both de-
sirable and necessary. Before the time of gardens
they probably had a part to play in the cosmic
machinery, and were very pleasant companions : they
flourished ; they ate ; and they were eaten, as we all
are. I believe there exist fossil slugs; at any rate
the slug and the snail both can point to a profound
antiquity. But at last there came a time when Nature
began to feel the slug was played out. With the pro-

THE WHITE ROCKERY 63

gress of evolution and a gradual but steady improve-
ment in terrestrial conditions, the need for slugs
slowly waned and ultimately disappeared. Of course,
I deal with geological periods of immense duration,
and am not suggesting that the demand for slugs
ceased suddenly. Cease it did, however, and there
came a tragic moment when Nature said to the
slug, u Go ! I require you no more. You have done
your work well, and I thank you, but henceforth I
propose to proceed without you. Good-bye."

And the slug replied to Nature, "Not at all. I
suited your convenience by coming. I shall consider
my own before departing. This place suits me ; the
conditions suit me ; there is a growing rage for the
choicer alpines in temperate gardens ; and they also
suit me. I am not ready to go ; I don't want to go ;
and, to make a long story short, I won't go."

Now that is where we stand. It is the sluggishness
of the slug that is his strength. Nature and the slug
are in the same relation to each other as man and the
rabbit in Australia, or Frankenstein and the pathetic
horror he created but could not control. What the
end will be I can form no opinion. The slug
problem, like the servant problem and the flying ship
problem, remain to solve for those who follow us.
One thing may be conceded to the slug. When he
informs Nature that he is not ready to go, he tells
the truth. To despatch him now is to cut him off in
the very midnight of his sins. Many have I sent to
their account with their mouths actually full of some
precious thing that very likely cost five shillings.

64 MY GARDEN

And, finally, let us sweep away that sanguine nonsense
about slug-proof plants. Show me your slug-proof
specimens and suffer me to bring up a leash of my
big fellows— striped like tigers — and we shall see. I
will keep them on the chain without food for a week,
and then slip them at something you value. Zinc
alone stops them ; this metal is highly obnoxious to
slug or snail, and a collar of it affords the best pro-
tection to alpines that I have yet met with. 1

Saxifraga rosularis, silene alpestris, and some clumps
of saxifraga apiculata thrive at the spot below my ixias,
while beneath them is another step sowed with grass —
five feet long and a foot and a half deep. Here are tiny
daffodils : minimus, juncifolius, calathinus, concolor,
cyclamineus, nanus, and triandrus alba. Some do and
some do not. N. calathinus I cannot prevail upon to

1 An ancient writer doth thus discourse upon the subject of snails. It
is a precious opinion and worthy to be recorded. " The snayle," says he,
" hath but 3 senses, that is the touch, the smell, and the tast ; he sees
not ; he hears not. The touch is principally in his homes ; the smell and
taste in his mouth, in which he hath a little black toung not bigger than a
hair, with which he frets herbes, bread, and other things. 11 Sir Thomas
Browne, on the contrary, credits your snail with sight, and thus he tunes
the sonorous organ of his prose to this slimy subject " That they have
two eyes is the common opinion ; but if they have two eyes, we may grant
them to have no less than four, that is two in the larger extensions above,
and two in the shorter and lesser horns below ; and this number may be
allowed in these inferior and ex-sanguineous animals, since we may
observe the articulate and latticed eyes in flies, and nine in some spiders :
and in the great phalangium spider of America, we plainly number eight."
Elsewhere he declares that, " by the help of exquisite glasses we discover
those black and atramentous spots or globules to be their eyes." Eyes or
no eyes, the snail's " little black toung " is a met ; his rooted objection
to the metal zinc is also a feet ; and this last circumstance is more
important from the point of view of minute alpines and delicate bulbs than
any other.

f&*\

THE WHITE ROCKERY 65

blossom. In the next ledge a blue-flowered syntheris

and asperula nitida flourish with saxif raga aizoon, the

little English mountain everlasting, antennaria dioica,

and the least of the willows, the tiny salix reticulata.

The edelweiss does well with me, but slugs adore this

plant. It is easily grown from seed, and will prosper,

I believe, anywhere on limestone. Dianthus neglectus

next catches my eye with the rosy little willow herb,

epilobium obcordatum from Sierra Nevada, and a plant

of vaccinium Vitis-idaea. This evergreen whortleberry

is common in Derbyshire, and I have good clumps

from the Peak, but in our county of Devon it happens

to be exceedingly rare. Only upon one tor in the

heart of Dartmoor may it be found, and there its

little snowy bells are shaken in spring and its scarlet

fruits appear during August. Drabas and sedums

occur next, and the front of the rockery here is draped

with aubrietias of various colours, packed with eche-

verias and supported by heucheras, that would like to

spread into one's path. My favourite at this spot is

erodium Reichardi, a native of Majorca and a rock

gem. It spreads a neat rosette of tiny leaves and

lifts therefrom generous succession of dainty white

blossoms. Erodium macradenum from the Pyrenees

is also in good trim elsewhere. Its fern-like leaves

and purple and white blossoms make a feature of any

rock-work. Looked at through a lens, the veined

blooms of erodiums are very lovely. Sometimes these

plants will fade away and die after some tremendous

outburst of bloom. Therefore you need reserves. The

great erodium, manescavi, grows like a weed in my

66 MY GARDEN

garden and sows itself freely. Dwarf roses, dwarf
bamboos, and dwarf lilies all occur in the next few
yards of rock-border. Of roses some dainty small
varieties of the little 'chinas' and 'fairies 1 are all
beautiful on stone-work, and of lilies I have here
concolor and coridion. The bamboos are going to
make a lot of trouble presently. If I am still a
gardener in 1907 the battle will have to begin. Of
these pushing things I have the variegated bambusa
Fortunei, pygmea, disticha, and Veitchii — a bamboo
that dies from the edge of the leaf inward. This circum-
stance gives the clump a distinctive appearance during
winter. I have also aurundinaria auricoma, a golden
grass, and stipa, the feather grass, with other grasses
here and there. My big encrusted saxifrages had a
blooming fit this summer, and many noble rosettes of
pyramidalis have vanished. They hung out a cloud of
snowy, rosy-spotted flowers in June. Several of my
clumps of encrusted saxifrages have survived their
labels, but I can still distinguish squarrosa and coch-
learis minor — little beauties both — Churchill i and
nepalensis. A good few others will be anonymous
until they flower — and perhaps afterwards. I brought
one from the mountain rocks of Portofino; and
a friend conveyed me others from Austria. They
came with primula marginata — loveliest of alpine
primroses.

Speaking of primulas, I was invited to go on a
motor-car expedition when last in the South. Such a
pleasure there one associates with rather giddy pur-
suits — with Monte Carlo and entertainments and

THE WHITE ROCKERY 67

frivolity in some shape. But that contemplated ex-
pedition had a higher and nobler aim. We were to
clamber into the mountains north of Mentone in
K order to find primula Allionii. This plant only grows
in the Gorge Sauvage of the Valine de Cairos, and
near Entracque in Piedmont. Such a thing accom-
plished would have gone far actually to justify motor-
cars; but our expedition failed. Local botanists
held it too early for this rarest of primulas, and told
us that she would still be hiding under the snow.
^ Saxifraga longif olia is the grandest of the encrusted
group. Like the rest of the family, they prefer to
hang almost perpendicularly. The mossy saxifrages
make beautiful clumps upon this border and flower
very abundantly with white, pale yellow, pink, and
deep crimson blooms. Dwarf campanulas abide beside
them, and the larger ones thrive above and below in
the stones. Along the top of this part of the rockery
occur separate pleasant plants on a narrow, sunny,
and well-drained shelf. I have here albuca nelsoni,
phygelius capensis, leontice altaica, tulips, korol-
kowia or fritillaria Sewerzowi, aristea eckloni, from
Natal (not happy), and tulbaghia alliacea, another
African.

Sometimes, after an extraordinary winter, there are
accidents in this terrace, and we mourn a friend and
find a dwelling-place to be let ; but it does not often
happen. I had also gelasine azurea and tricyrtis of
different sorts on this ledge ; but gelasine was not
only fleeting, like most irids, but insignificant, so he
had to go, and tricyrtis, after blossoming for two

68 MY GARDEN

autumns, took himself off. These Japanese toad-
lilies are interesting and make splendid pot plants,
but their late blooming is against them in the open
garden. Next I note the dwarf fuchsia — gracilis;
hacquetia, or dondia epipactis; various veronicas
and thymes in scented pillows; arenaria montana
and A. purpurescens ; potentilla alchemilloides ; P.
nitida (the best of all), and convolvulus mauritanicus
— struggling tooth and nail with Lady Larpent's
plumbago — a most unladylike plant, by the way.
I shall have to separate these two. They fight like
demons, and the flower-clusters of plumbago and
wide purple bells of bindweed sprawl inextricably
tangled and twined together in autumn. They will
both have to be planted upon another piece of rock-
work, there to wage war on a larger scale. Caulo- /
phyllum, with bronzy foliage and little chocolate
blooms, and arnica next occur, while rock -roses —
yellow, rose, red, orange, and white — follow them. My . p
white rock-rose, with a golden eye and hoary foliage,
is a true species and one of the rarest of British plants.
I am privileged to have it growing wild within a walk
of my garden ; and, as if this was not enough good
fortune, I also know the home of aster linosyris, or
goldilocks — a plant as rare as the other, if not so
beautiful. The purple gromwell is a third distinguished /
neighbour of mine. These three, the helianthemum,
the aster, and the lithospermum, are all happily settled
on my rockery. If you frown, I answer that only a
specimen or two of each was taken, and no harm
done, for the secret of their homes is pretty safe. A

FUCHSIA PROCUMBENS.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 69

few high botanic spirits know where they live ; and,
in the case of some other equally rare British plants,
the habitat is kept by a sort of inner circle of
specialists — good men and true— who would hold it a
sin against science to publish these haunts of choice
treasures. Mine was the privilege to rediscover a tiny
hare's ear, buplerum aristatum, after it had been lost
to our local botany for nearly fifty years. This little
annual suddenly spread his minute loveliness before
me, where I hunted for certain plants of the clover
kind. I could not believe my eyes ; I supposed that
I must be in some botanical dream, and that this was
the spirit of buplerum come to brighten an uncon-
scious hour. But I was awake ; no possibility of
doubt existed. Remembering the parallel case of a
great meeting, I raised my hat and said, " Buplerum
aristatum, I presume ! " Then I selected four speci-
mens and drew them out of the earth and went upon
my way. Every eye appeared to read my secret and
people regarded me with suspicion. Doubtless they
thought my joy was simulated, or that my keeper had
lost me.

The genial editor of the " London Catalogue of
British Plants" honoured buplerum by accepting
specimens of it, and some day I hope to have the
pleasure of taking him to see it in its home. But
he must hasten, or bricks and mortar will bury that
minute hare's ear for ever.

Another native plant, the bastard balm, sur-
prises botanists here and is very well worthy
of its place; while at its feet grows modiola ger-

70 MY GARDEN

anioides — a pleasant little thing with lively carmine
blossoms.

— Saxif raga sarmentosa prospers upon the rock-border
and spreads its threads and infant plants without
fear. It also blooms abundantly. A clubbed veronica
next appears and more campanulas ; then tropaeolum
polyphyllum scatters glaucous green foliage and yel-
low blossoms in sprays and showers, and calandrinia
umbellata makes a brilliant contrast. My wife says
that this calandrinia is magenta; but I deny it. My
idea of magenta is quite different. If I admitted the
charge, calandrinia would have to pack up and be off,
because I have faithfully promised that magenta shall
not be permitted anywhere in the garden. v Statice
minuta — a pretty atom— comes next, with herniera
glabra, a yellow lithospermum whose name I forget,
phyteuma obiculare, a fine primula frondosa, sheltered
behind a stone, othonnopsis cheirifolia, convolvulus

«/ althaeoides, and fuchsia procumbens. This last is a
particular favourite of mine, and his flowing habit
and wonderful scarlet fruit, as big as damsons, make

• me forgive the flower. Note what quaint decoration
this plant makes in a vase. His bloom must be
confessed a thought loud. He has lavender-coloured
anthers, crimson stamens, a yellow body, and green
and purple petals. He comes from New Zealand,
which may excuse this aboriginal arrangement of
colour ; but the gardener who possesses him is proud
of him, while the gardener who does not, instantly
prepares to rectify the omission. Of other things
here I note thalictrum alpinus, erinus, spiraea fili-

THE WHITE ROCKERY 71

pendula, berberis dulcis nana, and Oenothera speciosa.
This last has to be watched sharply. He is good,
but, like his neighbour, convolvulus althaeoides, a great
subterranean traveller. There are other far nobler
Oenotheras than this, however, and these occur else-
where. Of bulbs and corms 1 I speak presently.
They are scattered everywhere in this rock-border,
and they come up at all times — from the early days
of chionodoxa and snowdrop, to the last blooms of
tigridia, cypella Herberti, colchicum and autumn
crocus, and the first of iris alata and winter
crocus.
y One way of treating gladiolus I may mention here.
I closely plant the ' bride/ blandus, and other small
and lovely sorts in dozens, and they spring up and
break the lines of the stones, and shake out little
sheaves of white, or rose, or peach-blossom colour
above the carpets of the smaller plants. A grand old
gardener taught me to do this, as well as many, many
other things. Such enthusiasm as belonged to him
I never met in any calling. He is the greatest hor-
ticulturist that I have known. His Indian garden
must have been a vision of glory. He has an eye
for a rose that is simply a revelation to ordinary
people, and he can make anything and everything
grow. I think nothing baffles him ; and his hybrid
begonias and daffodils were a dream of beauty.
Let me celebrate with all due honour, ceremony,

1 Bulbs and corms. But I see ixia has poshed into this chapter. Just
what one might expect of him. He and sparazis always make a race for
it, and many a frost-pinch they get for their pains.

72 MY GARDEN

and affection the name of William Ainslie upon this
page. I wish I could find a new, fragrant, and lovely
plant worthy to embalm his memory for ever. Car-
nations, dahlias, and, I believe, roses have been
named after him ; but what is that ? Such a rare
spirit should have a genus all to himself.

GLADIOLUS TRIMACULATUS AND CONVOLVULUS ALTH.EOIDFS.

GLADIOLUS ROSF.US.

CHAPTER VI

THE WHITE ROCKERY {continued)

Gardeners have been a subject very common in
literature, and one might easily write many new
things about them, even at this late date. Here they
occur in great abundance ; we have every description
of gardener ; and the average of excellence is high.
For the lowest, most despicable class one must seek
in the suburbs of cities. In those places unskilled
labourers will trample and destroy for you at three
shillings and sixpence a day. They call themselves
jobbing gardeners. If energetic as well as ignorant,
they will earn their money by wholesale ruin and
malpractice ; if merely lazy vagabonds, as is more
often the case, they will spend most of their time
at the kitchen door, and do little harm except to
the minds of your serving-maidens. I have escaped
beyond the dreadful radius of the jobbers, into a
county where gardeners may be ignorant, but they
are honest. Here we are not afraid of work, and
even the humblest among us is a real gardener, not
a loafing sham, who has neither probity nor know-
ledge nor self-respect to justify his existence. Of
course, human nature persists, and our gardeners
have their fads and fancies, their negligences and

74 MY GARDEN

ignorances ; but nobody is perfect. Our men usually
develop at least one line of excellence, and endeavour
to establish a reputation for special skill in some
branch of their business. They do not always
succeed, but they try. Gardeners must not be ex-
pected to run like clocks. A machine, or a season,
does its duty, and cares not for our expressions of
satisfaction or displeasure. It is no matter of con-
cern to an express train whether your journey has
been successful or the reverse; a wet summer is
oblivious of your hard words and cutting speeches
concerning it; but gardeners do not work in this
way. Indifference demoralises them ; it is as bad
for them as too much praise. Give them constant
attention and reveal a personal knowledge of their
business if you can ; then you will perhaps get a
good gardener. My gardener and I make many
mistakes ; and sometimes he corrects me ; and some-
times I correct him. I trust to authority ; he stands
for experience. But authority is, after all, only some-
body else's experience. The great gardening books
are very seldom mistaken. It is in the horticultural
columns of certain daily newspapers that we meet
with dangerous advice and heretical opinions.

I am privileged to know a gardener who sat up all
night to catch a slug. He is an orchid expert, and a
rare good man all round. The slug arrived upon his
orchid at 3.30 A.M. during a coldish morning in
February ; and the execution was not delayed* Now
that is gardening ! Conversely, I met a man recently
whose master asked me to walk round the garden

THE WHITE ROCKERY 75

with him and encourage him. But encouragement
was the last thing that gardener needed. He ap-
peared to me to be a most flamboyant and boastful
person. His experience was clearly limited; his
knowledge almost elementary. Instead of en-
couraging him, I gently indicated various unsatis-
factory matters, and his brow grew clouded. He
was unaccustomed to anything but admiration, and
he desired nothing else. I said, "It's so important
for us to read the text-books. There's nothing like
steady reading and study to help practice. What
works have you got ? "

''None," he said. "I don't want no books. It's
all here ! "

So saying, he tapped his great, stupid head.

Now a man of that mean stamp freezes me in-
stantly. I ceased to care for his garden. I refused
to look at some obvious geraniums which he prided
himself upon, turned coldly from him, and shuddered
at a horrible bed of bad mixed verbenas. It is all
very well to possess the whole art and practice of
gardening in our heads ; but we must arrange out-
lets. That gardener's duty was to let his mass of
information exude like balm upon the garden of his
master. Instead of which there was no sign of it any-
where. He kept it corked up and screwed in. Had
he even suffered so much to escape as might have
served to fill a u Beginner's Guide," one had forgiven
him. A time will come when that miserable sham
will be detected denying his immense knowledge to
turnips, parsnips, or some radical matter of that

76 MY GARDEN

kind. Then he must be cast out ; and when they
come for his character, his employer will say,
"Yes — oh yes, Smithers — a great man Smithers —
he has it all in his head — but unfortunately will keep
it there."

Gardeners are fond of teaching, yet very few care
to learn. This trait, of course, is universal. If you
find a gardener who listens, and asks questions, and
seems not to know all you are telling him already,
endeavour to secure that man for your own. The
attitude of gardeners toward my white rockery is
instructive. Real gardeners are interested ; they show
me how I can improve it ; they doubt whether the
general angle is all that it should be. If they see
a plant that is new to them, they admit it quite
freely and are pleased ; they ask intelligent questions
about the native homes of the alpines and how Cape
bulbs survive English winters, and what tempts a
Zambesi gladiolus to flower in the open air when
I failed to make it do so under glass. They will
also admire and find beauty in the general scheme,
and even congratulate me and say they feel the better
for seeing what my gardener and I have done. This
is all very improving and comforting ; but little,
peddling gardeners, on the other hand, fly past the
things they know not of and fasten upon some flower
or shrub they happen to possess themselves. They
anchor beside this, and after they have exhausted
the trifling theme and casually mentioned that they
possess better specimens in their own two-penny-half-
penny gardens, they are surprised to find how the

THE WHITE ROCKERY 77

time is getting on, and away they go, having pur-
posely seen nothing. 1

To return to my white rockery ; I come now to
a very favourite family of little plants : the true
geraniums. Of these, six cannot be dispensed with,
and I give them in my order of merit But, of course,
you may place them differently. I think geranium
ibericum is the most exquisite. Its glorious purple
is rather like a salpiglossis, but far richer and daintier.
Geranium Lancastriense comes next in my esteem. It
is a form of sanguineum, and has the same habit, but
possesses a much more beautiful flower. Lancastriense
is palest, purest rose, lined delicately with a deeper
shade of the same colour. It blooms from May
until November here. Geranium argenteum generally
stands first in this list with most people. I put it
third. It is lovely enough, and its silver foliage has
great distinction. In bloom it is much like the Lan-
caster geranium, but the veining lies on a pale ground
that is of much inferior colour to my mind, and even
tends toward magenta. The bloom of cinereum
is very similar. Both I find a little tender. Next
I like that giant, armenum, the Armenian geranium.
He stands three feet high, and his deep red-purple
petals and black eye are very splendid. Here again
the word "magenta" is sometimes murmured, but
I do not hear it. The white form of geranium san-
guineum is fifth on my list ; and sixth I put geranium
Endressi, a clear, bright, rose-coloured bloomer

1 Note that in a garden, as elsewhere, dread to admit ignorance is of
ignorance the most glaring sign.

78 MY GARDEN

of free habit and pleasant countenance. I possess
also pratense, purple-blue and white; and phaeum,
a dusky introduction, said to be wild in the North.
Its reflexed chocolate blooms are most distinctive
and not generally popular. The common sanguineum,
striatum (a naturalised plant), and macrorhizon I also
grow. The last is not attractive to me, though some
people think well of him. I try to drive him away,
but he won't go. He dodges about behind stones and
then comes peeping out again. I give him away in
bundles to all who admire him, and say with each
root, a The last ! " But spring returns, and macror-
hizon struggles out from some deep hole in the
rockery to salute the cuckoo with the best that he
can do. Lastly, I have that fine old geranium,
angulatum. At least, if it be not that, I know not
which it is — unless, perhaps, nodosum.

So much for the crane's-bills. I know but these
personally. There are, however, others well worth
having, and perhaps better than these.

A mass of the lovely convolvulus cneorum next
greets me. Its silky, silvery foliage is always a
delight ; its pale bloom brightens summer. The
plant has an uplifted place to itself, and behind it
a sheaf of coloured gladiolus springs. Not far off
is another convolvulus with hoary leaves and a pale
blossom — the little lineatus. The pretty frankenia
laevis comes next, and then cyananthus lobatus. This
is a source of trouble to me. Twice I have renewed
it, and once a kindly friend, who has a noble garden
in Surrey, made me the handsome gift of this plant.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 79

It does amiably, shakes out its exquisite purple bells
once, then with winter perishes. One cannot go on
renewing choice things every year. That way the
workhouse lies. What is the secret of cyananthus ?
I wish I knew, for there is no more beautiful little
plant on a rockery. Why does it throw up the
sponge so easily with me ? Artimesia argentea does
well, and its hoary foliage and yellow blossom is
pleasant sight. It smells like a grocer's shop, curiously
enough. Artimesia lanata, with masses of corn-
coloured inflorescence, though handsomer, is not
quite so strong. It suffers terribly from the wet, and
seems, with its dense, silky clumps of foliage, to find
immense difficulty in getting dry again after a drench-
ing. All these woolly things are the same. Andro
saces must be hung flat, or their rosettes and cushions
will perish during a wet winter ; and another essential
treasure, the delicious, rosy potentilla nitida, soon
comes to grief unless protected with a bit of glass
when autumn falls. Androsaces, by the way, do not
all prosper with me, and I have failed to please several
among them. A dry-built wall, with good soil and
bits of red sandstone packed between the stones,
is the place for them. More small veronicas come
next — pinguif olia ; the beautiful deep blue satureioides ;
the large pale Lyall's, and others. V. repens spreads
over some crocus clumps — then linum arboreum's
glaucous foliage and grand yellow blooms rise, and
we reach a tract of little various bulbs to be men-
tioned anon. Aquilegia glandulosa jacunda has a niche
to herself — as well she may have with such a name ;

80 MY GARDEN

globularia cordifolia prospers in the next compart-
ment, and globularia nana, the loveliest mite that
ever gladdened a rockery, has left the Pyrenees to
keep its kinsman company. Gazania nivea is over-
rated in my judgment, but it blossoms abundantly
here, and seems very nearly if not quite as hardy
as splendens. A white cistus rises at the back of this
rock-border. It grows at a great rate and flowers
freely. Here, too, the dwarf irises occur — in shades
of grey, purple, and yellow. Pumila loves a ledge
in a rock-garden, and often blows with me in autumn
as well as spring. Statice incana thrives close by, and
various things sprawl together round the throne of
geranium armenum. Malvastrum lateritum will have
to go; but I admire his brick-red blooms. A neat
eryngium also lives here. It is as bright as amethy-
stinum, but smaller in all its parts. I dug it up in
the wilds outside the town of Algiers. There, as a
weed, it occurred in a resting stage about the edge
of vineyards. Great cerinthes prospered with it, and
heaths, and many sorts of orchis and ophrys folk,
were of that company. Ophrys is not easy to grow
in pots ; mine sulked for a year, which was not
surprising, as I dug the poor atoms up while they
were flowering.

An Arab helped me to get the eryngium and other
good things. He was a cheerful, genial soul, and had
just married a wife, who lived with him in rather
a shabby hut among the hills. It was surrounded
by agaves and opuntias, and shadowed by a fig tree.
Oranges and a Japan quince grew at the door ; a vast

THE WHITE ROCKERY 81

gulf yawned beneath ; and far below their mountain
home one saw the twinkle of a river. This man's wife
was making a basket of grass. She had just com-
pleted it, and I secured it for a franc to hold my
plants. The Arab introduced her with some formality,
and I told him that he had done well to marry her,
and that she was " une trfes jolie femme." Herein I
exaggerated a little, but he appeared to be exceed-
ingly pleased, and so did she. One may speak with
this familiar impertinence to the mongrel Arabs about
the neighbourhood of Algiers. They like it ; they
think the better of you for it ; but if you attempted
thus to discuss their wives with the nobler desert
folk — with Bedouins or Kabyles — there is little doubt
that the consequences would be exceedingly un-
pleasant for you.

I only grow one or two annuals on my white
rockery, and these no such place should be without.
Ionopsidium acaule is the neatest, trimmest, brightest
and pluckiest little lavender-eyed mite to be seen in
any garden anywhere. There is a cheerful happiness
in the very look of this flower. It loves the sun, seeds
itself, and wins general admiration. Now, during
December, it is flowering away as though we were in
July. Everybody falls in love with it ; but nothing
spoils it. From France I secured the white variety,
which is also perfect. Of other creatures that require
annual treatment I can only think of mesembryanthe-
mum caulescens and grammanthes gentianoides. The
first perishes out of doors in our winters. Therefore
I take cuttings in October and plant vigorous-rooted

«PM«MH«mHi^^^7iBV

82 MY GARDEN

pieces here and there at the return of spring. It
grows swiftly, and makes a very distinctive effect, but,
unlike the big and coarse M. edule, does not flower
out of doors. I had an enormous mat of this Hot-
tentot fig, but grew tired of it, and turned on it, and
killed it. I used to grow two others as annuals : the
ice plant and tricolor um, but have abandoned them.
Another thing grown from cuttings, and planted here
and there for its very beautiful and late bloom, is
pelargonium echinatum — the thorny geranium. This
handsome pot plant, with its white, scarlet-splashed
blossom, comes as a noble visitor among the residents
of the rockery. The weather decides him as to flower-
ing, and I take cuttings for next year when October
returns.

Grammanthes is a delightful dwarf annual, and its
little sparkling masses of yellow and orange make
splendid colour, like fire, on a hot rockery in July.

Achillea tormentosa's golden bloom and the little
lavender scabious pterocephela hide the front of my
rock-work here with their flowers and beautiful foli-
age ; then occurs a space where I grow calochortus, 1
and spread portulaca over this sandy region to follow
these star tulips and Mariposa lilies. White-flowered
thymus and more rock-roses dwell in front of my
androsaces. Then occur patches of various sedums.
They fight it out together, and the strong slay the

1 Calochortus. By the way, what are your views on the subject of Latin
plurals? Do you talk of calochorti and gladioli? If so, you must logi-
cally talk of " croci * also ; and then people will refuse to know you.
Do as I do, and shirk the plural words altogether.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 83

weak, and the slugs help them. There must be a
great deal of difference to the slug palate in the
flavour of sedums. Some prosper untouched ; others
are browsed down to the last green atom. I am
unfortunately not botanist enough to grasp and
understand all the distinctions between sedums and
sempervivums, cotyledons and echeverias. What is
far worse, I don't care. Other succulents interest me
much more than these. Once I had fifty, and I plunged
their pots into a heap of sand during the summer, and
pretended that it was the desert. In the midst of my
desert rose an oasis of six phoenix palms one foot high.
These were grown by me from Biskra date-stones. The
desert disappeared early in October as a rule. Now
it has disappeared altogether ; because people laughed
at it, and we gardeners are so horribly sensitive. My
phylocactus group was only turned out upon the Sahara
after flowering. Gasterias, haworthias, and some aloes
bloom in winter ; the stapelias during summer.

Nature came to most extraordinary grief with my
stapelia grandiflora. It opened a sinister, starfish-
shaped blossom — hairy, and of the colour of chocolate.
The thing was lovely, but its odour a little harassing.
People fled before my carrion flower, and marvelled
how I could encourage it or be proud of it. But
tastes differ : certain mother blue-bottles delighted in
the blossom, and, having no botany, thought stapelia
was something quite different. They buzzed there in
appreciative crowds, and one laid her eggs in the very
heart of the flower, so that the infant larvae should
have simple, nourishing food at hand when they came

w*-rmvm&mmmmmBg&s^*^~^*—^^^^B^mfmBE5^^^*m

8 4 MY GARDEN

to require it. But, as a home for the young of the blue-
bottle, stapelia is worse than useless. That family
was merely hatched to perish, and its members
wriggled for a time, then passed uneventfully away.
Perhaps it would have been kind to look after them ;
but I had no leisure. There is a good deal of scientific
interest in this fact. Nature never jests, or one
might suspect a rather stupid practical joke here.
Do stapelias similarly delude the flies in their own
country of South Africa? Or has evolution taught
them better ? Was it simply a case of the ignorance
of British blue-bottles ? Or was it some unusual fool
of a blue-bottle who lacked the customary sound in-
telligence of her class? Let science reply to these
questions. The useful blue-bottle likewise haunts my
dragon arums, where they raise black-purple, evil-
smelling heads above their speckled foliage in a corner.
But I know not if they regard those plants also as
possible refreshment for their young.

Cereus is the shyest bloomer among my cactus folk.
Under glass I have flowered various mammillaria and
opuntias — notably O. microdasys — a lovely yellow
blossom. But cereus is stubborn, and pilocereus is
wanting.

Let me mention the well-loved name of Miss Frances
Mary Peard in this connection. By happiest chance
that famous writer was at Bordighera on the occasion
of my visit, and thus it happened, thanks to her famili-
arity with Italian, that I was able to visit a remarkable
nursery there and bargain elaborately concerning suc-
culents without the matter becoming too one-sided.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 85

My special longing was this pilocereus, the old-man
cactus, with his head of venerable silver hair ; but he
is never cheap anywhere — not even in Italy — and I
had to go content with lesser celebrities. Opuntia \(
tunicata is, upon the whole, my favourite of all these
prickly people. Its ferocious ivory-white thorns give
it a very handsome appearance, and in the southern
gardens it attains to a remarkable size. Its flower I
know not To return to the afflicted sedums — my
favourites, if I have any, are pulchellum — an old but
rare beauty, with pink flowers and lovely foliage —
Kamtschaticum, Middendorff's, and Stahlii. The last
has yellow flowers, and I doubt its hardiness, but
each leaf will make a new plant The huge sedum
spectabile is brown with honey-bees in late autumn.

Some large clumps of mossy saxifrages next appear,
and in the ledges beneath them hang veronicas and
peep cyclamens, while above are campanula garganica
and C. Waldsteiniana. Next occurs a plant I think not
common in England — the shrubby anthyllis Barba-
Jovis, 1 that grows on sun-scorched cliff-faces of the
Mediterranean in Provence. Thence I brought it,
and so far the plant has prospered. It has pale lemon
flowers and a neat habit of silver leaves. Here also
is astragalus monspessulanus — a thing far finer and of
a pleasanter form than the great straggly astragalus
alopecuriodes, which is praised in high places, but
which I grew with dismay, and would banish back to
Siberia whence it came. Near at hand grows astra-
galus hypoglottis alba, and then passing that rather

1 A . Barba-Jcvis, There is a fine specimen on a wall at Kew.

86 MY GARDEN

overrated plant, spigelia Marylandica, I come to the
little king of this corner, rhododendron hirsutum. He
has a pocket of peat and prospers amazingly along-
side various bulbs and some plants of daphne cneorum.
These bloom and shed extraordinary fragrance once
a year ; but they ought to do so twice. It is rather
too warm for them here, and I contemplate moving
them to cooler quarters. Next occur genista humifusa,
citysus schipkaensis, from the Shipka Pass, and van-
couveria — a lovely little gem with foliage somewhat like
epimedium, and dainty white flowers on tall stems.
Aphyllanthes 1 monspeliensis follows. This last-named
plant is perhaps the most interesting in my garden.
Upon the ends of its unbranched, rush-like stems
occur pure, pale blue blossoms with six petals. Here
would seem to be an actual link between j uncus and
the lily, for aphyllanthes possesses the characteristics
of both ; but botanists hold that it belongs properly
to neither family. It is unique, and there is but this
one species known. Its nearest kin may be sought
among boryas, alanias, and laxmannias in Australia by
those who have leisure and inclination to do so. I
notice a little coldness displayed towards aphyllanthes.
Botanists are puzzled by it. They consider it difficult
to explain or account for its presence in Europe
without a passport. This is ungenerous. If the
distinguished creature's appearance in France is not
easy to understand, so much the more credit to it
for coming. Who knows what immense difficulties

1 Aphylbmthes. I found the plant pretty generously distributed in the
fir woods between Cannes and Grasse.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 87

it may have surmounted by the way ? " And there-
fore as a stranger give it welcome." This hardy
and courageous little traveller does exceedingly well
with me.

Encrusted saxifrages occur again here with acantho
limon and mentha requiena. The last goes and comes
curiously. This year I have large fragrant mats of it
in one place. Next year they will develop in another.
After flowering and producing absolutely the tiniest
blossom in my garden, the seeds ripen and become
scattered. Then they germinate and make new mats,
while the old plants gradually perish with the frosts.
Leptinella or cotula — I know not which it should be
called — is another dwarf with fragrant foliage; but
this, like the acaenas, must be watched and kept in
bounds. On one side of a row of steps I have a
great border of alyssum. The seed-case of alyssum is
worth preserving. You will find it consist of number-
less tiny discs of pearl, like lunaria, or honesty, but far
smaller and daintier. Anemones and a dwarf cydonia
with deep crimson blossoms come next ; then follow
zauschneria procumbens and cerastium tomentosum
matted together. One blooms in spring, the Calif or-
nian fuchsia's fiery blossoms appear in late autumn.
Magnolia stellata does well in a clump above a little
tank in which that grand American nymph sea, " James
Brydon," lives surrounded by small American ferns
and iris cristata. Gazania splendens tumbles about
later on in the year, and hard by, a very great favourite
of mine, Oenothera eximium from Upper California,
opens its enormous and fragrant blossoms at the

88 MY GARDEN

sweet time of summer twilights. This queen of
evening primroses has sugar-sweet sap and pure
silvery petals that turn pink before perishing — a trans-
formation that also overtakes the dandelion - leaved
Oenothera of Chili, which is a thing only less fine than
eximium. I have also that splendid yellow Oeno-
thera, macrocarpa from the United States, and the
tiny pumila, least of the family so far as I know. The
common evening primrose is never quite absent — it
seeds about in corners; but I have lost rosea and
others.

A clump of crinums crown this rocky corner and,
beside them, desmodium penduliflora springs without
support and drips every way in a lovely shower, like a
fountain of purple wine in October. Among minor
treasures in this corner are saxifraga retundifolia from
Ober Ammergau, linum monogynum from New Zea-
land, dierama from South Africa, and botrychium
lunaria, the moonwort, 1 which I dug up on ' Sir
William' Hill in the Derbyshire Peak. This un-
common fern is a tiny kinsman of osmunda. It
occurs in Devon, but I have not chanced to find
it here.

Dierama, or sparaxis pulcherrima, defies me. I hear
that the best way with this plant is to keep him potted
in a cool house until he is full of strong and vigorous
growth, then turn him out I shall try this prescrip-
tion upon him. That neat little white-berried shrub,

1 The Moonwort. " Moonwort (they absurdly say) will open locks and
unshoe such horses as tread on it" Thus remarks the ridiculous, enter*
taining Culpeper. But he attributes properties to the plant quite as comical
as these.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 89

hymenanthera, follows, and next a draba and ferns
appear, with azalea amoena, epimedium alpinum — a
lovely thing in leaf and flower — and primula denti-
culata. Shade gives these plants their opportunity.
Near at hand is the little rubus arcticus 1 — a cheerful
mite and the tiniest of all his huge family. He
blooms freely, but never sets his delicious amber
berries with me.

With the arctic bramble I hope to associate another
very small congener, rubus Chamaemorus, the cloud-
berry ; but as yet this has escaped me. Next appear
the lovely little erythraea pulchella and arctostaphylos
Uva-ursi, the bearberry. Weigelia, or diervilla nana,
grows here also with a native, thalictrum minus ; then
follow helianthus mollis and stenactis. Lastly buph-
thalmum salicifolium bows me out of my rock-border
with his solitary yellow flowers.

Before proceeding to the bulbs, tubers, and corms
which are scattered here, you will need rest, and so
shall I. Of course, what I have showed you is very
irregular and casual. But the glory of this little rock-
border on a day in June; the sprays and sheets of
colour; the single dazzling splashes of flowers; the
pillows of them; the comet-like tails and trails of
them ; the explosions of pure splendour ; the rose

1 Rubus Arcticus. I honour this atom specially because it brought
pleasure to Linnaeus. He both figured and described it with loving care
in his "Flora Lapponica" — out of gratitude, as he himself declares,
because, upon his Lapland journeys, the wine made from these little
raspberries often brought him refreshment when thirsty and weary. In
Sweden a syrup, a jelly, and a beverage are all manufactured from rubus
arcticus, so that, as you go north, he waxes into a personality.

90 MY GARDEN

and the snow; the purple and gold; the blue and
orange ; the scarlet and cream ; the greys and silvers
basking on scorching stones ; the forms ; the swaying
movement of countless petals and stalks; the dance
of the heat at noon and the savour of earth and
flowers when my white rockery gets an evening bath
— these things, of which only a fraction can be
uttered, make up what is a restful toy to me. All
was planted with my own hands ; and that is not the
least part of the pleasure of it.

CHAPTER VII

THE WHITE ROCKERY {continued)

Goethe has said that the intentions of Nature are
invariably good; that her purposes are noble and
amiable ; that, in fact, she means well, I go further
than this, and dare assert that if one soars above the
egotistical pettiness incidental to humanity, we shall
find how Nature not only means, but actually does
well. For, if you examine the objections to Nature,
they prove invariably to be based on a human standard
of good or evil, and we arrive at a mere anthropo-
centric judgment inspired solely by regard for our
noble selves. In the case of generous and large-
hearted people, the race is their first thought; but
an average man or woman does not even consider
the race, and is merely concerned with the paltry
family circle to which he or she belongs ; while, to sink
still lower, there are a craven sort of spirits amongst
us who reduce every interest to the bald and unblush-
ing dimension of No. i. All, however, be their out-
look large or narrow, limit it to the race. Yet Nature
might be expected to feel less sympathy with us than
with any of her creatures, because the only unreason-
able animal she has created happens to be the one
with reason. What a shock and source of irritation

92 MY GARDEN

this must have proved to her ! As an artist myself
I can condole in the matter; for we have all been
through it. Our ideas are so much grander than
their embodiments, whether we compose, paint pic-
tures, write books, or build worlds. No doubt,
when first the great thought came, and she pictured
the mammal developing into a conscious being, dear
Nature felt her heart leap within her bosom. It was
a big idea, but like many another grand concep-
tion, broke down comparatively under the technical
difficulties of execution. We are an obvious dis-
appointment, yet in many respects a splendid failure.
She must try again ; and she will very likely suc-
ceed next time. What she should attempt is a being
with a more rational bent of mind, more patience,
and a better logical understanding of her own
fundamental principles than man has ever attained.
We may be fair material to work upon ; or she
may prefer to let us go and return herself to the
original starting-place (if she has not lost it) and
try again. But my own opinion is that, let her
only bear with us for a few more aeons, while
evolution does its perfect work, and she will
be surprised and pleased. Failing this course,
in Nature's place, I should turn my attention to
another Order, give the deep sea a chance, and
develop a consciousness of existence in the marine
Crustacea. A lobster with a mind might put his
intellect to better purpose than we do. Besides,
monopoly is always bad. It is time that the
mammals be taught that they are not everybody.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 93

Nature cannot, of course, please all of us, though,
such is my love for her, that I believe she would
gladly do so if it was within her power. Human
life grows more complex with every century; but
the laws of life, as she has laid them down, know
* no change. Interests are now so varied, competition
is so keen, conditions are become so sophisticated,
that Nature can only satisfy a section of the com-
munity at a time. Take an instance of the sort of
problem that faces her at every turn.

Once I grew an apricot tree upon a wall. Over the
wall was the garden of my friend Atkinson, and he
devoted much of his attention to the earliest of early
potatoes. The time was an hour before midnight,
and Nature, tripping that way with queenly loveliness,
stayed her silver feet for a moment to note the pro-
gress of things. Stars were in her hair ; a breath as
of a moonlit cloud hung about her beautiful lips. Her
purpose was of course evident. The season began to
get too mild, and, after a week of dry weather, a good
sharp frost seemed indicated to keep the spring
blossom in the bud for a while longer. Nature saw
my apricot tree and smiled at the little tight bloom-
buds, packed away within their winter quarters.
Frost was just what they wanted to keep the eager
white petals from trembling out and exposing the
heart of the flower to clanger. But then Nature
caught sight of the beginning of my neighbour's
potatoes, and she smiled no more. Too well she
knew that Atkinson did not want her silver feet there.
Experience of Atkinson in the past had taught her to

94 MY GARDEN

a syllable what he would say if she went that way in a
robe fringed with ten degrees of frost. What was she
to do? Either she must quarrel with me— one of
her staunchest supporters — or make an enemy of
Atkinson. Her evening was of course spoiled ; but
she did her duty — at least I think so. The next
morning I looked "with an auspicious and a drop-
ping eye" at my fruit tree and Atkinson's despondent
'earlies/ He was storming about in a hot-house —
using tropical language to his tropical flora — and
when he saw me, he emerged, like an angry lion from
its lair, and asked me what I thought of our loath-
some climate now. I said the Spring was full of sur-
prises, as usual ; then winked down at my apricot tree.
Do not, however, suppose that I have any secret
understanding with Nature — far from it. Nobody
has endured more from her in one quiet way and
another than have I. If she had arranged more
silver and gold in certain places under the earth,
before I was born, I should not be sitting here
writing this book now, and we should all have
escaped it; if she had been of a different opinion
as to the proportion of uric acid that might possibly
be developed in my system, when the ingredients
were discussed and decided, I should have avoided
many troublesome experiences; and if she had
specially interested herself in my attempts to estab-
lish half-hardy bulbs, she would have smiled far
oftener upon my white rockery than is actually the
case. For my part I can stand her fiery or her
frosty moods; but what one dislikes is to see her

THE WHITE ROCKERY 95

always crying. And half-hardy bulbs also dislike it
They are not accustomed to her low spirits in
Northern climes. A tropical torrent they know —
let her weep and be done with it — but this incessant
lachrymation wears them down, and wears them out
They yearn to go home, and, in the gardener's sense,
a great many of them do so. If Nature would only
let me arrange the watering and look after the sun
herself, we might get some famous results; but she
will do it all.

Now concerning bulbs, when such things cost
many shillings, my experiments are not conducted
on a scale to satisfy the scientific mind ; but thanks
to the Dutch, very few fine plants cost much money
nowadays, and I feel that Nature may drown my
garden annually, so long as she abstains from
drowning Holland.

Let us take by far the best catalogue that I know
for these things and run through it.

Of hyacinths nothing more need be said, and of tulips
but little. Concerning the latter, however, I must give
you an idea. Should you want a lovely bed of tulips
by the end of February, it can be done. The secret
is for once in a way to get your bulbs from the South
of France, instead of Holland. On the Riviera, tulips
are ripe and ready for market by the end of May. I
shook hardened gardeners this year with a bed of a
hundred T. praecox, var. Dammanni, ablaze on the
3rd of March. For thirty francs this wonder may
be performed, given a reasonable winter. The secret
is to have your bulbs planted by the end of June ;

96 MY GARDEN

and the difficulty is to find room for them. But you
can easily arrange an annual over them, and pull it
up when they spear. Good choice species for the
rockery are Greigi, from Turkestan, with spotted
foliage and dazzling scarlet petals ; Clusiana, a lovely
thing in the bud ; Kolpakowskiana, red and yellow ;
pulchella, a rich carmine with deep blue eye ; and the
familiar florentina, a fragrant, fine yellow tulip which
often carries two or three flowers on the same stem.
Linifolia, a tiny tulip with brilliant scarlet bloom and
bulbs the size of a filbert, is another precious thing,
and exquisite on the rockery.

The crocus, of course, can look after itself. Of
autumn flowering species I like best pulchellus — a
small bloom of an infinitely tender and dove-like
lavender with yellow eye. Longiflorus is only less
attractive, and speciosus has a grand purple bloom
of considerable size. Sativus, the saffron crocus,
with its fragrant blossom and rich crimson tassels,
is very beautiful, but rather a shy bloomer with me,
and Scharojani, the rare, orange-red flower from
Circassia, is said to blossom in August. Perhaps
conscious of not being wanted at that season, my
solitary bulb, though healthy, has so far refused to
bloom. Imperati is a grand late crocus. It has a
pale blue and purple-striped blossom, and attains
to considerable size. Medius is nearly white with
purple veins ; and Zonatus, from Lebanon, one ought
also to possess if catalogues speak true. With Spring,
Sieberi appears, and Alatavicus, which I added last
year, but missed its bloom. Biflorus, the lovely

THE WHITE ROCKERY 97

Scotch crocus, should be in any serious collection ;
also biflorus pusillus and Leedsii. Colchicums are
hardy in proper quarters. They like half shade,
and should be planted where their heavy foliage
may ripen through early summer without being a
nuisance. Their masses of white, lavender, and
purple brighten autumn. Try Parkinsoni — a che-
quered pale and dark purple; autumnale — white and
purple ; speciosum and byzantinum, to begin with.
Of anemones fill spare patches of grass with
apennina and fulgens. For the rockery, Robinsoni-
ana, palmata, and the little yellow ranunculoides are
good. Ranunculus does well planted pretty deep
in autumn. The Persians and double French and
Turbans must, of course, be dug up and dried off
after flowering; but I am very impatient of things
that demand so much fuss, and do not personally
think ranunculus quite worth it. Concerning varieties,
amplexicaulis is beautiful, and need not be lifted after
flowering. It does well with me. Lyalli, a New
Zealand buttercup, is perhaps the finest of all. This
is hardy at Kew, so you will do well to get it, if you
know where. 1 Crown imperials and fritillaries appear
next in my catalogue. I have grown grand imperials,
but the bulbs slowly deteriorate and never increase.
Ruthenica is a lovely fritillary, and so is pyrenaica.
Aurea is another little golden beauty, but a shy
flowerer. Moggridgei must be beautiful, and also
Walujewi. I have wasted many a good shilling on

1 If you know where. Since writing this chapter I have found where.
Messrs. Ganntlett & Co. of Redruth supply it

98 MY GARDEN

this last, but never flowered it Recurva is a fine
plant, and meleagris, the snake's head, nods in
hundreds of little sad-coloured, drooping bells over
my white rockery in April.

Of babiana I can only say that they are nearly
hardy. I have seen none of the really lovely species
figured in old botanies — such as tubiflora, stricta, or
spathacea — but I believe they may be got. Like ixia,
sparaxis, and some gladiolus, they shoot early, and
their foliage is apt to be spoiled. They deteriorate
with years, and as mine were never grand varieties,
but only a cheap and very mixed company when they
joined me, I generally pull them up now when their
hot purple catches my eye. This is a bulb I must
grow again seriously, and the same remark applies
to tritonia. The rich yellow and scarlet-orange of
tritonia is very agreeable, and his habits are good
He too suffers from spring frost. Our mild autumns
delude many half-hardy bulbs into making a start,
with a result that their green plumes are often dashed
before blooming. Tritonia flowers in June, and is well
worth a place in your rockery.

Of ixia I have already spoken. It is absolutely
hardy in a well-drained, sunny spot, but simply for
the sake of the foliage they might be dug up when
ripe and not planted again till early spring. Sparaxis
is the first of my Cape bulbs to appear. It is often
out before Pushkinia and scilla have done. Nobody
can afford to be without Mr. Wallace's lovely sparaxis,
11 Fire King." This is the grand old ixia tri-color
revived. A hundred years and more ago there was

THE WHITE ROCKERY 99

rare confusion between the lesser Cape bulbs, and
gladiolus ran into Watsonia; and ixia embraced
babiana and morphixia sometimes; and sparaxis
was always ixia too ; and antholyza helped to worry
the botanists also. Then appeared Mr. Gawler and
proposed to form a new genus and separate sparaxis
from the rest for evermore. The botanical world
smiled upon his idea, and this fine bulb came to
its own. The rich black, yellow, and scarlet of
11 Fire King" always creates a sensation in my
rockery. It is hardy as the type, and fears nothing
but slugs. Another choice sparaxis is " Lady Carey "
— white with a shade of pale purple — and "Queen
Victoria" is also good.

Morphixia has a colour-scheme of warm pinks and
yellows. These plants are not as handsome as ixias,
and perhaps not quite as hardy ; but they are graceful
and pleasant, and eighteenpence a dozen, so you had
better try them. M. longiflora is really handsome.

Many varieties of oxalis are hardy. There is no
prettier little mite in a striped white and scarlet
petticoat than versicolor. Bowiei, too, may be tried.
It is a lovely rose, and quite hardy. I know little of
this family, but have often admired the handsome
oxalis cernua abroad, and been annoyed by the busy
little ubiquitous corniculata at home. This climbs on
to the white rockery when my back is turned, tangles
into its betters, sends up saucy yellow blooms over its
purple leaves, and defies removal.

Calochortus is a special favourite of mine. This
noble flower has a sloped bank in my rockery, and

ioo MY GARDEN

since he suffers from almost chronic hydrophobia, I
cover him up in winter with a cold frame. This is
better than brake-fern, matting, or straw, which I have
seen advised, because, in these things, horrid forms
of insect life collect and cabal and adjourn to eat the
spears of calochortus during earliest spring before
you think they are above ground. But the light of
day has no charm for such sons of darkness, and my
butterfly tulips keep dry and happy under a frame.
Some sorts are hardier than others. Benthami and
lilacinus came up year after year with me ; others are
not so regular. C. Albus used to do well, but I think
it has gone ; C. Kennedyi I tried in vain, but the fault
has been in the bulbs. C. Macrocarpus I must have.
The Venustus varieties of this beautiful Californian
flower are perhaps the loveliest, with their rosy petals
and brown and yellow blotches and markings. In
Kent they thrive exceedingly under intelligent treat-
ment, and I often think that some sandy ridge in Kent
would be the ideal home for most half-hardy bulbs.

Brodiaea needs merely to be mentioned. It is
strong enough, and flourishes in respectable soil facing
south. B. coccinea is showy, and I believe B. Howelli
is worth growing, but few are to my mind. Cyclamens
do, of course, in a rockery. I dug up some large
ones in North Africa, and they ought to have been
at least tender, but they showed no signs of it, and
flowered gaily. The little autumnal and spring cycla-
mens increase rapidly, and do their own seed-planting
with that wonderful spiral contrivance of theirs. I
remember how about the foothills of Lebanon a lovely

THE WHITE ROCKERY 101

pale pink cyclamen grew and clustered everywhere.
Doubtless this is the new " Libanoticum " of Hen-
Anton Roozen's catalogue. The spring flowering
C. Coum — white and rose — are good, also C. re-
pandum.

Lilium must be mentioned elsewhere ; royalty can-
not be herded with commoners. Alstromeria is for
the most part hardy, but my favourite, Pelegrina alba,
the lily of the Incas, should have a wall. I grow this
with amaryllis belladonna outside a vinery in the eye
of the sun, and its glittering, glaucous foliage and
exquisite snowy-white flowers are good. Do try
this; but it makes the other members of the clan
look mere gaudy mountebanks. Pancratium mari-
timum is the only variety of this grand bulb that I
have tried out of doors. It flowered once. Much
foliage came up subsequently, . but no more flowers.
It is worth a pot. Crinum capense flowers well with
me in a snug spot on the rockwork. Plant very deep,
and he will probably be all right Montbretia is a
garden weed in this place. Sulphurea I admire, and
rosea must be beautiful, but I have never seen it
Funkias are hardy enough with me, and flower well.
This plant is reserved by caterpillars for their parties ;
and as they are hospitality itself, you must be watch-
ful. F. glauca is very handsome ; and, if you like
variegated leaves, albo marginata will please you.
F. Fortunei from Japan is also very good, to my
mind.

Convallaria needs mere mention, and polygonatum
also. Kniphofias are, of course, hardy. " Obelisk " is

102 MY GARDEN

a lovely, pure, rich golden torch-lily of great size,
and some of the dwarf sorts would look well on large
rock- work. With yuccas they make a handsome show.
Of terrestrial orchids I know nothing, except a little
about the family of ophrys. Several of these I have
dug up in Africa and in France. Lutea is handsome,
and speculum a very lovely thing. Apifera is hardy,
and grows wild within a walk of me. I have dallied
with serapias, but to see him wild in his home is joy
enough ; and since these things are blooming when
one is in their company, it seems almost useless to
move them unless you take a good lump of France
or Italy at the same time. But when one considers
what overweight means on the journey home, one
hesitates. Cyprepedium spectabile and the rare
British C. Calceolus I have, but others of the hardy
cyprepediums are even more beautiful.

Gladiolus ought to command a chapter, but it
cannot be done. The subject is huge and fascinating,
though here I may only name a few of my own favourite
species. As a rule I practically ignore hybrids, but
with gladiolus they must be considered. Blandus one
grows, of course — a delicate and delightful thing;
colvillei, in the shape of the familiar and ubiquitous
" Bride," leaps in little sheafs upward on my rockery
with roseus and trimaculatus. Insignis, a splendid
scarlet gladiolus flaked with purple, and cardinalis —
scarlet, with white flake — cannot be refused a place.
Sulphureus I have failed to flower in the open, and
am reluctantly giving him a pot this year. Purpureo
auratus and gandevensis are the parents of the lovely

THE LILY OF THE IS'CAS.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 103

Lcmoine section. The former — a flower of purple
and gold — is very handsome, but far more delicate
of constitution and dainty of habit than most of its
children. Why do people object to the hooded
gladiolus ? Some most exquisite tropical species are
hooded.

G. Purpureo auratus I dig up in the winter, but I
doubt if this is necessary. Milled is very early — a
fragrant, white, scented thing, but tender. Trimacu-
latus has the usual three blotches in light crimson on
a rose ground. Ringens is blue — so they say; but I
have not succeeded with it. Tristis has a pale yellow
petal touched with brown ; communis roseus is a very
fine colour and an early flowerer. Of ramosus varie-
ties, f ormosissimus is essential, and other superb things
are "Ne Plus Ultra," "Queen Victoria," and "Van
Speyk."
>< Hybrids of Nanus are all more or less lovely, and
atnong my little group of these most delicate and
brilliant flowers I find the names of " Poniatowski,"
scarlet ; " Rembrandt," white and lilac rose ; " The
Queen," white and pure rose; "W. M'Intosh,"
orange-scarlet ; " Delicate," white and maroon ; and
"Lucretia," white with cream-coloured blotch out-
lined in pink — a most beautiful gladiolus. All these
at the end of June are a very splendid spectacle.

Of other hybrids many are, of course, magnificent,
but my taste turns to the Lemoine sorts. The form
is not so popular as the great and grand gandavensis
hybrids; but none of the latter can compare with
some of the choicer Lemoines in splendour of colour-

io 4 MY GARDEN

ing. Get a dozen of that deep crimson wonder
"Achanti" and astound your friends. Try also
" Demi-Deuil " — a fine thing in two shades of purple ;
"Eclipse," deep crimson and cream; and "Marc
Micheli," pale lilac and violet. A hundred conns of
"Marie Lemoine," pale yellow with crimson blotch,
are good for cutting from, and others of the Lemoine
hybrids will attract you if you study a catalogue of
them. G. Nancianus was also raised by M. Lemoine
at Nancy out of G. Saundersii. These are huge, but
rather coarse to my taste. G. Childsii is a traveller.
It went to America, and returned with the name of a
great grower there. Some are rather grand, such as
"Mohonk," "Boston," &c. The monarch of all
hybrids is Herr Max Leichtlin's beauty, " Princeps "
— a brilliant scarlet cross between gandavensis and
cruentus. These, of course, are but a handful of
what you may possess.

CHAPTER VIII

THE WHITE ROCKERY {concluded)

In many respects I have much in common with half-
hardy bulbs. The affinity becomes more marked as
I grow older. As with them it is necessary that they
shall be thoroughly ripened if bloom is to be achieved,
so with me the same thing should be done. When
my foliage is down, which invariably happens after
paying the Christmas bills, the correct treatment is to
take me south to the sun, or failing that, to keep me
under glass. From eight to twelve weeks of this
scorching is all that appears to be necessary. Then
I can be brought back, started in gentle heat, har-
dened off briskly, and trusted to put forth my usual
humble inflorescence. The most perfect winter treat-
ment I ever received was long ago in the West Indies,
where I used to tramp the sandy margins of Tobago
and Grenada in direct sunshine, while other men sat
feebly under awnings in clubs, or on deck, and
drank fortified milk from the green cocoanut. What
vigour resulted — what a superabundance of sub-
tropical bloom burst from me ! I remember that I
had six Christmas stories in Christmas numbers;
I published a novel also, and, as if that was not
enough, wrote poems, articles of foreign travel, and

««5

106 MY GARDEN

descriptions of the wonders of the deep. I finished
the year by getting married and coming into the
malignant sphere of Income Tax. Once, and only
once, the ripening failed me. I did not ripen in
North Africa. I got pneumonia there instead. It
was interesting, in a personal way, and is treated of
under Iris stylosa. Neither did Syria ripen me as I
could wish, though it is a good country for bulbs;
and, if only for the sake of its tuberous irises and
Iris Lorteti, one of the loveliest flowers in the world,
ought to be rescued from Turkey's evil misrule and
restored to the chosen people.

Out of Lebanon comes my favourite spring
bulb — Puschkinia libanotica; while P. scilloides,
which differs but slightly from the other, is found
in Armenia. These dainty things — blue and white
striped — are very hardy, and I know few more
pleasing flowers in March. Of Ferraria l or tigridia,
the tiger-iris, I have a variety. Conchifiora, pavonia,
pavonia alba, and pavonia alba immaculata are glori-
ous creatures; while of others, pavonia aurea and
pavonia lutea immaculata are exquisite. I plant
deep, and they come up year after year, their ex-
traordinary distinction and splendour making up
for the sad shortness of their hours. F. pulchella
is a lovely little atom. I was waiting for it a fort-
night last year ; then forgot it for twenty-four hours,

1 Ferraria. "We lament," says Curtis, "that this affords our fair
countrywomen another lesson how extremely fugacious is loveliness of
form. Born to display its beauty but for a few hours, it literally melts
away."

THREE HYBRIDS OF LEMOINE.
(Ath«»li— Etlifse— Priiictfs.)

THE WHITE ROCKERY 107

and it seized the moment to flower. F. undulata
is an interesting tigridia, but I have never yet
flowered it either under glass or in the open. An-
other irid I have muddled is the black and scarlet
Mexican, rigidella orthantha. It makes strong, pro-
mising growth, after the fashion of similar things, but
never attempts a flower. Coming, as it should, in
October, it may be unreasonable to expect success
Pohlia platensis does little better, though this is really
not in the least difficult. It flowered once with me,
and very beautiful and interesting it was ; but since
then, though vigorous, no bloom-spike thickens.

Some people are surprised to hear that the tube-
rose— polianthes tuberosa— can be flowered out of
doors; yet in a warm, sandy bed they will do well,
given a hot summer. Planted during spring, they
flower with autumn, and come a delicate white,
shaded with pink, rather than the pure white of the
pot plant. Agapanthus, the blue Mexican lily, is
certainly hardy, and does far better with me in the
open than elsewhere, If planted in light, rich, but
sandy stuff, well drained and sheltered in reason, this
grand thing may be trusted, even though the frost
cuts it pretty near to the ground in winter. The
white varieties are perhaps more tender than the
blue. Albuca Nelsoni is a handsome Cape bulb, and
its spikes of white and green flowers rise finely above
the foliage. It is hardy enough with me, and in-
creases. Of the onions, I like azureum, magicum,
neapolitanum, pedemontanum, and the old yellow
moly. Allium is hardy enough, and there are very

108 MY GARDEN

probably many better than these that I know. The
Piedmont plant is beautiful in its way, and so is the
sky-blue azureum. Anomatheca gets its foliage
dashed by frost, but does not mind in the least.
This very fascinating little Cape irid is hardy, and
increases from seed at a great pace. I like its bril-
liant crimson blotched with darker hue. Cruenta is
the common form ; a plant sold as " grandiflora "
which comes from tropical East Africa, belongs really
to the lapeyrousia race. Antholyza I have not tried,
but I am going to pull up my remaining Watsonias
and put antholyza in their place against a warm wall.
Watsonia is rather uninteresting, so far as I have got
with it. The plant is hardy enough, but the bloom
is scattered and somewhat mean both in shape and
colour. I must try Watsonia iridiflora O'Brieni. You
can see this in a picture of the " Supplement of the Dic-
tionary of Gardening," and it looks most attractive.
Watsonias, says an old authority, vary their colours,
and the same bulb will produce pale pink flowers
one year, perhaps dark crimson the next, and possibly
a variegated bloom in the third. I had hoped mine
might do something original of this sort; but they
never soared above a paltry brick-red. Bernardias
are wretched little squills not worth growing. Bes-
sara is a scarlet gem, and should be tried out of
doors, for in some west-country gardens it prospers
thus. Mr. W. Fitzherbert, one of our most dis-
tinguished and skilful Devon gardeners, has cultivated
it with success in the open air, I understand.

Bloomeria, to my untutored eye, is merely a yellow

■^ »■ m v ^"^^^»m" w^^^-w ■ ■ a »wg

THE WHITE ROCKERY 109

brodioea. It is hardy with me in a snug spot on the
white rockery ; but there will be no crape worn when
it falls out, for the space can be put to better purpose.
Chionodoxa is a little treasure that needs no more than
affectionate mention. I hear the variety Tmolusi is
quite the most perfect thing in snow-glories that has
yet appeared. Chlidanthus fragrans defies me. It
sends up strong foliage, but has never flowered. It
is, I understand, really a little yellow pancratium, and
ought to do perfectly well Coburgia has treated
me in exactly the same manner ; but this is a green-
house plant and should not have been thrust into
the air. I am a very poor hand at the Amaryllidaceae.
Commelina is another thing that expects to be dug
up and stored away in winter. Last year I let mine
go on expecting. Commelina caelestis is certainly a
heavenly blue when you catch the flowers well out
before midday, but quickly after noon the display is
at an end, and nothing but a score of clammy blue
beads remain to tell of the vanished beauty. White
commelinas are also good. The plant is worth grow-
ing, but not worth fussing about. Cypella Herberti is
a noble irid, and everybody should try it. I find it
perfectly hardy ; though in winter, out of mere affec-
tion, the plants have a little mound of fine soil three
inches high raised about them. The vigour and
abundance of their flowers is amazing. From June
onward until late September they open an unceasing
supply of rich, tawny-orange blossoms, in shape like
a small tigridia. There is a touch of purple in their
hearts, streaked on the outer petals and spattered on

no MY GARDEN

the inner ones. The standards curl over, like little
sharp-pointed tongues. The flowers are fleeting, but
their extraordinary abundance atones for this.' Five
and six blooms are frequently out together. Give
cypella a roasting spot in full sun, and don't go
through another spring without it. For sixpence
this magnificent thing may be yours ! Eranthis needs
mere mention. Its cheerful yellow brightens January
and loves a shady spot. The great and glorious
eremurus follows in my catalogue, and, as becomes
such a wonder, he keeps up his majestic price ; but
Elwesianus can be purchased for a modest ten shil-
lings now, and himalaicus costs but three. Warei, how-
ever, won't join you for less than four guineas. He is
described as " salmon-pink with a tinge of magenta."
That tinge will be his undoing. Salmon-pink is
among the fairest colours a flower can take, but let
a suspicion of magenta lurk, like a serpent, in the
bud, and all is changed. The hybrid "him-rob"
is a huge and splendid eremurus, and the yellow
Bungeii must also be very fine. I have only himalaicus
robustus and turkestanicus, the last a poor thing not
worth growing. Eremurus is hardy, but you must
watch its beginnings in Spring, as the sprawling lush
foliage suffers with frost, and a bead of ice in the
heart will be often enough to settle the infant flower-
spike. These develop early, and by mid- March you
learn whether your plant is going to flower or not.
Nothing I know hates being moved like an eremurus.
Turkestanicus, however, minds less. I let him linger
about in corners from simple weakness. He is one

THE WHITE ROCKERY in

of those things you wish would die quietly and make
room for a finer plant ; and yet you do not quite like
boldly to uproot and destroy it. Erythroniums are,
of course, hardy enough, and their marbled foliage
and pink, white, and yellow flowers are pleasant in
spring. Eucomis O'Brieni and E. punctata are both
hardy, and their spikes of green and brown — in the
case of punctata topped with leaves — have a quiet
charm of their own. They cannot, however, be called
showy, but are worth a spare corner. Freesias will
grow and seed freely against a warm wall ; but they
flower late, when you don't want them, and are better
in pots. It is a pleasant thing to see scented acres
of their pale lemon and white blossoms making the
sunshine fragrant about Hy&res in March. Galtonia is
pretty hardy. It goes well in masses with the common
scarlet gladiolus brenchleyensis. Both can safely be
left to weather winter in the ground with me, but
I plant rather deep. I much regret to find that very
lovely mite, geissorhiza, is not hardy. She must be
grown in pots under a cold frame. I think our
winter wet is too much for her. But there is no
lovelier little irid than G. Rochensis, the plaid ixia,
as it used to be called. The petal tips are purple,
then comes a ring of pale colour, and the heart of
the flower is crimson. Twice only I flowered it out
of doors in successr\y years. Then my few bulbs
expired. G. alba I tried to flower, but failed. Geis-
sorhiza blooms in May, and is well worthy of pots.
Gelasine azurea, another irid, is hardy, but not worth
growing in my experience, for the flowers are small

ii2 MY GARDEN

and very short-lived. Gelasinos, I find, means "a
smiling dimple" — a pretty name that ought to have
been given to a better thing. Habranthus I have
attempted in a hot corner out of doors, but without
success. As a genus, habranthus seems to have been
swept away altogether, and referred to zephyranthes
and hippeastrum. If I had known this sooner, perhaps
I should not have played the fool with them in the
open air.

It must be rather trying to an established genus
to be suddenly thrust into another. I wonder if
this will ever happen to us ? Perhaps in a few
millions of years genus homo as he is to-day will be
referred by genus homo, as he is then, to pithecan-
thropus. By the way, how do we know that pithe-
canthropus couldn't talk? Who can prove him
dumb ? Or, perhaps, since the gulf between the
coming man and ourselves may be more consider-
able than that between us and our own ancestors,
the anthropologists of that time will calmly throw us
back to a merry lemur who rejoiced in Tertiary times,
and reserve genus homo for themselves. On the
other hand, they may leave us alone and start a
grand new genus. They will probably look plain,
those people of the future, but their brains, to ours,
will be as ours to the uncalculating opossum.

Hedychium coronarium, the Indian garland flower,
is tender, and belongs to the stove. In mine he is
monarch of all he surveys. Hedychium Gardnerianum,
however, may be called hardy here in a snug corner,
and it blooms nobly during August with agapanthus,

CYPELLA HERBERTI.

HEDYCHIUM CORONA HI UU.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 113

erythrina, and pardanthus chinensis, the blackberry
lily. This last is another hardy irid — one of the
most beautiful — and its rich, splashed, blood-orange-
coloured flowers greatly impress those who have not
before met with them. Its habit is like an iris, and
it stands two to three feet high at blooming. Its
trivial name comes from the black seeds. To return
to hedychium, flavum is another fine species held to
be hardy in the west country. But I think good
spikes of Gardner's plant, with its lovely form, lemon
flowers, and scarlet additions, hard to beat.

The East Indian H. coronarium is snow-white and
deliciously fragrant. It springs from the crown of
the leafy spikes. In the Malaccas it is a favourite
decoration of Indian belles ; but if sent as a present
to a young man, it is intended to reproach him with
inconstancy in love.

Korolkowia discolor makes a cheerful sight on a
rock-ledge early in March. Its glaucous foliage and
little pagoda of bronze bells furnish a striking object.
K. Sewerzowi must be even handsomer. Give them
a hot, sandy spot and they will thrive. Was this
the same Russian General Korolkow who found that
glorious Regelia iris that will embalm his name ?

Herbertia I have not flowered in the open ; but the

fault is mine. They are named after Dr. William

Herbert, a famous Dean of Manchester; and if he

could grow them, so should we. Nevertheless he

may have used a cold frame. H. pulchella and

H. caerulea are the best, and they must be attempted

again. Yet another irid is the orange-scarlet Homeria

ii 4 MY GARDEN

collina, with a bloom like a sparaxis. It is brilliant,
and fairly long lived for an irid, but it is not hardy,
and its odour handicaps it in the race for popularity,
though in its South African home, the scent no doubt
proves a source of strength. Scent is a big subject,
and Bacon, who has something wise or fatuous to
say on every conceivable theme that can interest a
human being, makes observations concerning it He
distinguishes subtly between "fast flowers of their
smells/' and those which are not so niggard, but
generously cast their fragrance upon the air, and
breathe out their sweetness "like the warbling of
music/' Roses — damask or red — he calls fast flowers,
and bays, and marjoram, and rosemary. These things
want a little pressure to bring out their high qualities.
Like many people you could name, they need a pinch
to develop their flavour ; and, to press the figure, not
a few plants and men, by reason of their notorious
qualities in that sort, never get pinched at all — which
in the case of the plant suits it well, but in the case of
the man is very bad for him. The most generous of
his flowers Bacon found to be the violet, with the
musk-rose a good second. Strawberry leaves dying
" yield a most excellent cordial smell/' he tells us ; and
among other fragrant things he cites the flower of the
vine, sweet-brier, wall-flowers, pinks, clove gilliflowers,
the lime tree, and honeysuckle. Next he treats of
sweet foliage, and tells us to plant burnet, wild thyme,
and water-mints in our alleys, that they may be trodden
upon and crushed, and yield their fragrance out of
personal affliction.

THE WHITE ROCKERY 115

The sweetest thing in my garden is a marjoram:
origanum Maru, the " eau-de-cologne " plant, as we
call it. But the odour is too sophisticated — like
a whiff from a perfumer's. Daphne cneorum is
very delicious ; but the best scent I know is that of
wild wood hyacinths, in some glade, where sunlight
soaks and drips in pure green-gold through a million
infant leaves, and the blue and purple beneath gleam
in sun and lie cool as a cloud-shadow in shade, while
the pale spikes open and droop their countless fairy
bells to worship the ground that bore them. Orchid
people, of course, say there is nothing like a Vanda
for exquisite perfume, and certainly my neighbour's
are exceedingly sweet.

With the lovely lapeyrousias I have failed so far ;
but leontice, the lion's leaf, is vigorous of foliage, and
free of yellow, dark-veined flowers in February upon
a rock-ledge. Hypoxis is another failure, and after
several attempts I must pronounce him not hardy so
far as this garden is concerned. It is a slight conso-
lation to read in Professor Nicholson that very few are
worth growing ; but one is tempted to fall back on the
1 grapes are sour ' theory rather often with half-hardy
bulbs. As a matter of fact not half-a-dozen times in
as many years have I flowered anything not worth
growing. There was a wretched phlomis tuberosa that
reached enormous proportions and took two men to
drag it to the dustbin ; then there was hyoscyamus
orientalis, which I got, hoping that it might be as
lovely as our own rare and weird English H. niger,
the henbane. But a dingier, meaner, more hang-dog

ii6 MY GARDEN

plant never scowled out of a border. Of small bulbs
that I do not honestly think are worth growing I
might name a dozen or so ; but it is unsportsmanlike
to publish a black list of this kind ; moreover, in each
case somebody would be sure to find themselves of
a different opinion. A tiny mite that is worth a
corner is Beilia triticea, or triticea juncea. It is quite
hardy in the usual peat and sand and throws up a
spike a foot high, like a very miniature gladiolus, of
pale mauve flowers.

Ixiolirions are beautiful things and hardy. Their
blue is rather distinctive and their habit handsome.
They like to be dry in winter, and if you plant them
with your calochortus bulbs, the same frame will cover
both when they are resting. Ixiolirion tartaricum
brachyantherum (pardon the name) is a late flowerer
of a lovely blue. Leucojum is, of course, hardy, but I
don't find the choicer sorts much disposed to flower.
L. Autumnale is fitful, but a very beautiful little atom
when it appears, and L. roseum, from Corsica, another
autumn bloomer, must be even fairer ; but so far this
has not honoured me with flowers. Merendera is, I
fancy, hardy, and the rose-coloured M. sobolifera used
to be one of the first blossoms of February with me
when I had it. Their blooms are like little colchi-
cums. M. Bulbocodium, from the Sierra Nevada, is
said to be the best. Moraea, with the exception of
that notable irid, M. Robinsoniana from Australia, is
a bulbous plant, and comes from the Cape. I have
muddled these things for some years. M. Edulis and
M. papilionacea have made|feeble efforts to flower,

THE WHITE ROCKERY 117

but none worth dwelling upon. We are told that
they succeed with the same treatment as ixias — a very
favourite statement in catalogues; but I have not
found it so. However, the loveliest of all, M. glaucopis, 1
generally called the peacock iris, does well with me,
and you shall not see anything lovelier in the family
than its blue, purple, and black eye on a white ground.
The reverse of the fall is streaked with purple. M.
iridioides, white, yellow, and brown, is strongly recom-
mended and considered quite hardy in Holland; but I
know it not. There has been a tremendous botanical
clearance in this genus, and a dozen familiar things,
most of which I have already mentioned, are now
turned out of it Mr. ]. G. Baker, the first expert,
says that a 'Mine of demarcation between Iris and
Moraa has been drawn in different places by different
authorities. 1 ' He follows Bentham and places Iris
in the North Temperate zone and Moraea at the Cape
and in tropical Africa. The rule is simple, and
where Bentham and Baker march hand in hand,
you and I may follow with easy confidence. The
grand M. Robinsoniana came from Australia during
1877, and is now in all good catalogues. It resembles
on a smaller scale the habit of phormium tenax, and is
in its own country the favourite wedding flower. I
have so far failed with it in the open, and have not
heard that it has prospered thus ; but this year I

1 M. glaucopis. The real name of the familiar Iris pavonia is Morea
glaacopis,«the owl-eyed morsca; but for my part I shall not desert the
peacock's tail for the owl's eye. The true Monea pavonia appears to be
another plant.

n8 MY GARDEN

was privileged to see some fine flower-spikes in pots.
It shoots up a lofty stem from its great foliage and
produces scattered white blossoms splashed with gold.
It is a fleeting but a noble moraea.

Ornithogalum arabicum prospers grandly out of
doors, and only asks for deep planting and plenty of
sunshine. O. aureum failed with me. Nutans is, of
course, hardy, and its handsome green and white
blooms begin to appear before February is over. The
little Star of Bethlehem, O. umbellatum, twinkles in
May. The frame species I do not know. Phaedra-
nassa is said to do in a warm border. Mine did
nothing under those conditions, but I flowered them
afterwards in a cool house, and then parted from
them without emotion. They affect the yellows,
oranges, and greens of lachenalia, but don't manage
the colours so well to my mind. Always understand,
however, that I speak with the utmost humility when
criticising unfavourably anything that blooms. My
opinion is purely personal, and a man whose criticism
on any subject was worth less never lived. I have
lacked the critical faculty from my youth up. There
are possibly people who think the world of phaed-
ranassa ; it may touch a magic chord in your heart :
at any rate an outlay of fourpence will enable you to
make the experiment. Romulea is hardy, and his
kinsman, spatalanthus, for some years opened shining
purple, yellow-eyed blossoms in a hot corner ; but I
rather think in digging when he was down I accident-
ally slew him. This beautiful little flower should be
tried in a cold frame if you dare not trust it out of

THE WHITE ROCKERY 119

doors. The rose-coloured romulea flourishes much
with me, and opens its bright blooms by the dozen on
a sunny morning ; but it appears to be very impatient
and distrustful of cloud, and soon shuts, like sparaxis,
in shade. It is not strictly rose-coloured at all, but
totters on the verge of magenta. Sarana, the so-
called black fritillary, failed with me ; but I think it
is easy enough, as anything surely should be that
flourishes in Kamtchatka. Perhaps, however, it wants
more bracing, and might like to winter in a refrigera-
tor. Schizostylis, the Kaffir lily, is a valuable gladiolus-
like plant with spikes of crimson blossoms in October
and November. A good mass in the kitchen garden
will repay the room you give it, and prove invaluable
for the house, if you feel as I do, that chrysanthemums,
and nothing but chrysanthemums, soon become a
weariness. Sisyrinchiums are pretty little hardy things,
and spring in sheafs, yellow and blue, upon my white
rockery. Smilacina I am trying to establish in a
cool corner. It is, of course, as hardy as lily of the
valley; but this dainty little "herbe aux turquoise"
has not as yet ripened its blue berries with me, or
shown any wish to do so. Sternbergia is hardy and
brightens autumn with his yellow cups, but S. Fischer-
iana, a new variety, flowers in spring, I hear. Nobody
wants him then, for that is the hour of the crocus.
S. Macrantha flowers before his leaves; but I like
best the common Sternbergia lutea, whose bloom
and bright green foliage come together.

Libertia is a noble, iris-like plant, and does in half
sunshine. I give a picture of it with a mass of Iris

120 MY GARDEN

sibirica, which prospers along with it. L. azurea and
L. tricolor should be tried in pots ; but I have failed
with them out of doors. Melantheum Massonia, too,
which I learn is a pretty and singular Cape bulb, has
done no more than throw up a dozen strap-shaped
leaves of a dark colour. A passing slug nibbled one,
and Massonia appears to have died— -of simple fright.
Things that are going to lose their nerve about a
mere playful nip of this sort are no good to me. But
I am trying Massonia again.

Marica Caerulea 1 won't succeed in the open, but it
is worthy of a pot. The plant makes huge foliage, like
Moraea Robinsoniana, and its flower and behaviour is
that of tigridia. A fairer thing I never saw. The
falls are spoon-shaped, very large, and of the lovely
blue of the Algerian iris. The cup is spattered with a
pale, pure brown, and the standards rise in three little
curls. The pollen is a strange green. Properly
grown, it flowers almost as freely as cypella. I must
get more of marica. M. lutea and M. brachypus
are both grand things, also M. Northiana. Caerulea
sends forth a flat flower-stem, and rises three feet to
five from pot level.

Tricyrtis, the toad-lily, is hardy here, but flowers so
late that the rough weather of October often ruins it
I have seen splendid pots of the various species in the
garden of a friend. Tricyrtis hirta nigra and T. hirta
grandiflora are both interesting. T. macropodum is

1 Marica caruUa. Amid the wonderful flower-pictures by the late Mist
North, to be seen at Kew, is a good portrait of this marica (No. 70)
under the title of '* Palma de Santa Rita."

MA RICA C.T-RULEA.

BRAVOA GF.MINIFLORA

THE WHITE ROCKERY 121

said to flower earlier, and have a black and yellow
bloom. Triteleia — white and blue — increase at a great
pace, and fill spare corners swiftly with their very
pretty flowers. Triteleia laxa maxima, of a rich Tyrian
purple, is a very handsome thing. There are many
others I know not. Tulbaghia I have failed to flower ;
and Wachendorfia is another bulb that should, but
certainly does not, succeed under treatment of ixia.
It lives and thrusts scarlet points out of the soil, then
retreats again. Wurmbea spicata is not exciting, but
a worthy little thing in its little way — a white bloom
touched with a pale red. Zephyranthes Candida is the
only really hardy species of this beautiful genus. Its
snowy stars sparkle out with amaryllis belladonna
under a warm wall. I have tried others out of doors,
but done nothing with them. Zigadenus is another
thing that I have failed with — the fault being mine ;
and that brings me to the end of the alphabet, if not
your patience.

I will, however, just dash back through the catalogue
to see if I have missed anything. Yes — here is Hes-
peroscordum from California, a tall, small umbel of
little flowers, gawky and unbeautiful, but to be
grown for their wonderful fragrance. Hessea and
Hesperantha do not appear to like my arrangements
for them out of doors ; but Hespero seal lis is said to be
hardy, and must be tried. Crocosmia you should grow.
It is a highly glorified montbretia, and the variety,
aurea imperial is, is a noble plant. Drymopsis, though
said to be hardy, does not do much with me. Bravoa
geminiflora is one of my special favourites, and never

122 MY GARDEN

fails to gladden July with its dainty shower of twin
scarlet blossoms. This is one of my greatest successes,
and wins general admiration. Of anthericums other
than the familiar lilies of St Bruno and St. Bernard,
I recommend A. algeriense — a very beautiful variety
with dark green foliage and golden anthers; while
A. lineare, with variegated foliage, makes a neat pot
plant if you cut off the worthless bloom-spikes. This
pleasant thing comes from the Cape, and you may
find it sometimes under the lordly name of phalangium
argenteo-lineare. Aristea Eckloni — another of the
endless Cape irids — is scarcely hardy. It lives out of
doors, but looks consumptive and emaciated. In a
cool house, however, it makes a brave show, and
furnishes a lovely blue blossom. Arthropodium
cirrhatum, a pretty New Zealand lily, also does in a
pot, but I think it would hardly prosper out of doors.
Its bloom is a dainty shower of little white flowers
on a long stem.

Arums are interesting, and A. italica makes magni-
ficent scarlet corals in winter, though the great green
spathe and yellow club have no special charm.
Cornutum and crinatum are both wonderful; but I
cannot do anything with them except get foliage in
the open air. Dracunculus is as hardy as any dragon,
and his purple towers annually above the marbled
stem. Concerning this weird monster says Parkinson,
"The chief use whereunto Dragons are applyed, is,
that according to an old received custome and
tradition (and not the judgement of any learned
Author) the distilled water is given with Mithradatum

THE WHITE ROCKERY 123

or Treakle to expell noysome and pestilentiall vapours
from the heart."

Baeometra columellaris defies me. It must, I sup-
pose, have glass. Chrysobactron Hookeri is a kins-
man of anthericum ; but I can only record failure here.
It succeeds in leaf-mould and sand, so the books say,
but mine have not done so. Cyanella, too, is a dis-
appointment, though they sound pleasant little things,
both blue and yellow. Frame culture is troublesome
work, though many of these small plants are well
worth the amateur's trouble. I welcome them in
their appointed seasons in the white rockery; but
when there has to be fussing and pottering and poking
about in cold frames, with all the business of ventila-
tion and watering, I find my time will not extend to
it. Cooperia Drummondi, however, one must find
leisure to grow. I have failed with this lovely " even-
ing star " ; but you may see it splendidly grown in a
cold frame against a hot wall at Kew. The single
snowy blooms and glaucous foliage make a rare
flower-picture.

Micranthus plantagineus has a spike of blue flowers,
and is fairly hardy. It is very handsome, and worth
a warm corner. Another treasure, Tecophilaea cya-
neo-crocea (a Chilian irid), has so far not favoured
me with its sky-blue blossom.

Uropetalon does nothing. You may find it
under dipcadi in your catalogues. I fear it is no use
on the rockery. Uvularia, of course, flourishes, but
has few friends apparently. I like its graceful habit
and twisted yellow petals. Leucocrinum, I think, is

i2 4 MY GARDEN

going to do out of doors; but I cannot say with
certainty yet.

And now I will name a last little gem by way of
conclusion to this rough and ready survey. There
are doubtless hundreds of other pretty half-hardy
treasures beside this handful to be got from the in-
exhaustible storehouse of South Africa; but among
them all you shall not flower a daintier atom than
Melasphaerula graminea. It is, I think, rare in cultiva-
tion. I got mine from Holland as something quite
different, and only after considerable difficulty named
it. A beautiful picture of the plant will be found in
the Botanical Magazine, No. 615. One may describe
melasphaerula as a tiny gladiolus-like blossom carried
on a twisted stem irregularly. It is yellowish-white,
with dark crimson streaks on the petals, and has
grassy foliage. It appears to be quite hardy, but I
pay it the compliment of a piece of glass through the
autumnal rains, and hope it may presently increase.
It was found by Thunberg in the Groenekloof Hills at
the Cape of Good Hope, and sent to Kew in 1787 ;
but they have not got it there now, I believe. " In
the capillary tenuity and elastic tremulousness of its
branchlets, it reminds us of the quaking grass, Briza,"
says Curtis.

And now you may leave the white rockery ; but do
not be impatient with me, or endeavour after such an
ordeal to escape from my garden altogether. There
is much more that I desire to show you before you
depart, and many cheerful things to tell you.

One important point must be made here. You will

THE WHITE ROCKERY 125

naturally want to try some, if not all, of these dainty
and wonderful African flowers next autumn, and you
will consult English and many foreign catalogues in
vain. But there is a world-famous Dutch house
where all may be purchased, j and where their quality
shall be found of the very best. From Messrs. Ant
Roozen & Son, Overveen, near Haarlem, Holland, I
procure nearly all my Cape plants, and, after trials
extending over some years, rejoice to record the
splendid character of their goods and the varied riches
of their catalogue. It is quite a botanical education
to study these pages ; and next to seeing the plants
appear in glory of bloom, you shall have no pleasanter
horticultural experience than diving into one of their
fascinating parcels and handling the roots and plump
splendidly ripened corms, tubers, and bulbs which
they supply.

CHAPTER IX

THB IRIS

I have loved that grand lilaceous trinity, the lily, the
iris, and the gladiolus, for many years ; and sometimes
the lily has been first in my affections and sometimes
the iris, with gladiolus always a good third. But,
slowly and surely, the iris has won highest place, and
henceforth she is safe, for I am too old to change
any more.

Think of the forms this enchantress can take and
her manifold charms of colour. Regard also her
moods, now coy and distant, now so lavish of her
loveliness. Let us ignore the earlier fiction that she
was a virgin, but rather, as later poets feign, hold her
the delicious wife of the west wind and mother of
Eros. With all respect to Aphrodite, Iris would make
a better parent. From the least bulbous mite of a
Mrs. Danford's iris, to the mighty orientalis gigantea,
six feet high, what a variety shall be found 1 It is
almost as remarkable as the range of colours — from
white through every shade of blue and lavender and
purple, yellow, orange and brown, grey, rose, and
crimson to the copper darkness of the thunder-cloud,
and actual black. Remember, too, how time is their
slave. Given a cold frame and a little industry, you

196

THE IRIS 127

may have irises blooming for ten months in the year.
No sooner are the potted beauties of Bakeriana,
Histrio, and histrioides over, than stylosa's scented
glories await you out of doors, with alata as a com-
panion. Then come reticulata, persica, stenophylla,
with Warleyensis, sindjarensis, and other of the Juno
group ; and, following them in April, pumila of many
varieties begins to bloom and, with lutescens and
other fine irises, ushers in the summer pageant. Not
until the glories of the marsh-lovers are over and
laevigata has done, can the show be considered at
an end ; and even then pumila will often begin again
during a generous season, while the lilac and gold
loveliness of fimbriata brightens the conservatory, to
the confusion of any early chrysanthemum mop that
may be boasting itself in October. Fimbriata, or
japonica, will flower at all times and seasons. I have
a tall spike full of bloom on this day in late March,
and I shall flower others during the year. The plant
lives in the open air as much as possible to ripen
for bloom. Last year it flowered during October in
a sheltered corner, where a pot had been sunk.
Mr. Irwin Lynch, whose magnificent "Book of the
Iris " should be in every flower-lover's hand, advises
us west-country gardeners to try I. japonica out of
doors ; and we have done so, but I think no flowers
are yet recorded from the open ground.

I have about seventy irises to show you, and the best
way will be to march with the authorities and present
every beauty in her proper group. We will deal in
sections, and marshal each array under its respective

128 MY GARDEN

banners with strange devices. Xiphion, Gynandiris,
and Juno have bulbs ; Hermodactylus trusts to a
tuber ; the rootstock of the precious Nepalenses is a
bud, and their roots made me fancy that I had an
alstromeria, when a generous friend — bless his kindly
heart — gave me some of this rarest of irises straight
from the Himalayas. In my spirit was a doubt, and
therefore I evoked the giant " Slave of the Iris " : the
magician or jin who has won such world-wide repu-
tation by his marvellous feats with this marvellous
flower. He makes new irises as Paris makes new
fashions ; at his touch the wonders of the Oncocyclus
and Regelia groups blend and mingle ; at his nod
these coy queens of the garden come forth in their
royal robes to make even hardened horticulturists
stare and hold their breath. And yet an amateur,
a muddler, a duffer, who didn't know the root of
nepalensis when he saw it, dared to summon the
magician to his aid, and succeeded in winning from
him rich stores of knowledge by return of post I All
this is to say that Sir Michael Foster, with his usual
generosity and enthusiasm where the rainbow flower
is concerned, declared for nepalensis, and said that I
was a lucky man to have it, since, even with him,
the iris had become exceedingly scarce. Mark how
virtue is rewarded. The friend who had given me
my irises knew Sir Michael, and, on learning that he
lacked this treasure, swiftly supplied him therewith.
You see, my dear Cunningham, if you encourage
people who trust for a living to printed pages, you
must expect these surprises and find your light

THE IRIS 129

dragged from under the bushel, where you will
hide it.

Pardon this digression. I was naming the various
sections when led away. Beside those already men-
tioned, we must flit through the great rhizomatous
groups and glance at Apogon, embracing the beard-
less people ; Evansia, the crested family ; Pseu-
devansia, whose beards begin but never get any
forwarder ; Oncocyclus, the glorious company of
cushions; Regelia, heroines allied to the last and
much intermarried, with Sir Michael Foster as
Hymen. And finally we reach Pogoniris, or the
bearded folk.

Photographs of irises are never entirely satisfac-
tory. The purity of colour, the translucence of
petal, and the fantastic forms of many among them
cannot be reproduced happily. Even paintings are
of little worth. Take reticulata, for example. A
glance at the real thing will show the difficulties.
These small irises defy pictorial reproduction, just
as the small orchids do. You might as well try to
paint a minute piece of cunning jewellery. Such
living gems must be seen alive and examined with
a magnifying glass before you can appreciate the in-
finite delicacy of their mottling, the balance of their
frail parts, and the brilliancy of their pigments.

To begin with Xiphion, Xiphioides and Xiphium
are the two great branches of this group, and to my
mind the first, or " English " iris, as it is called, stands
ahead of the " Spanish" sort. They come quickly after
Xiphium, and soon make me forget it. Of Xiphioides

i 3 o MY GARDEN

there are many lovely varieties. Their colours range
from white through blues and lavenders to darkest
plum and purple, while Xiphium has rather a differ-
ent colour scheme from white through the yellows,
browns, and purples to those wondrous lurid hues,
as of an electric storm, that we meet in the Xiphium
lusitanica called "Thunderbolt." There are many
very lovely garden forms of both the " English " and
" Spanish " iris, and such is their cheapness that
anybody can mass them without a pang in his purse.
They seed freely, and if you are a scientific gardener
and not pushed for time, you may grow them thus,
and perhaps be rewarded by raising a good new form
or two.

Iris juncea flowers spasmodically with me, but its
brilliant yellow blossom in June is very welcome.
Another big iris belonging to the group is tingitana,
from Tangiers. This is a sun-lover, and likes a
roasting spot on the rockery. I find it a shy
bloomer, but such a lovely iris is worthy of patience.
Rather the same colour scheme as my favourite,
sindjarensis, marks it. Standards and style-branches
are a delicate lavender-blue, and the colour fades
on the falls to a paler tint ; a bold golden signal
spreads on the fall, and the pollen is also golden.
The style-arms are beautifully crested ; the standards
spring upright, and are slightly notched

Reticulata and its lovely varieties may be named
next ; but, despite the beauty of Histrio, histrioides,
and purpurea, there are no flowers in this group
more fascinating than the type. It is among horti-

IRIS TISGITAX,

.^S

THE IRIS 131

cultural blessings that these things are so cheap;
for my experience is that too often they deteriorate
steadily, though new, well-ripened bulbs fare and
flower to perfection through their first season,
then they lose heart, send up leaves for a year
or two more, and finally vanish. But reticulata
has no such weakness. Let me describe her most
usual form. Style, crest, and standard are of
an intense violet-red, and the colour runs far
down the long perianth tube; it deepens on the
fall to pure purple. The pollen is pale gold,
and the median line starts of the same colour.
It is much spattered with black along the claw,
but presently it leaps out on to the blade of the
fall, and glows with the most brilliant golden
orange that can be imagined. Upon each side of
this flaming "signal" the petal is white, splashed
with purple-black. Such a thing could only be
imitated in precious stones, and even they must
lack its infinite delicacy and fragrance. The scent
has been compared to violets, but there is an
under-scent that belongs to reticulata alone. Of
the varieties none, in my judgment, are equal to
the type; indeed, no flower that blows is fairer
in its fairy way than this gem from the Caucasus.
Histrio has a scheme of fine lilac colour, darkening
on the fall. Here the whole fabric is mottled,
streaked, and splashed with rich lilac upon a white
ground. Through the midst runs a thin yellow
line, touched with black specks. The standards
are narrow and bolt upright; the styles are large,

132 MY GARDEN

and break into irregular flakes at the crest. Both
are of a paler colour than the fall. Brought into
a warm room Histrio exudes sweetness, but appears
to refuse its odour out-of-doors. All these little
irises do very well in pots, though I cannot make
them ripen so. Like the rest of the reticulata
group, Histrio is a cheerful and beautiful flower.
Grow a dozen for people who are in the habit of
getting seedy and low-spirited at Christmas time;
place these budding things beside your suffering
friends, and the reward will be great.

Histrioides comes somewhat later than the last with
me and much resembles it, but opens a larger flower.
The standards have a graceful twist in them, and
to the fall belongs a peculiarly lovely form ; heart-
shaped, and narrowing to a point. The crest is
beautifully wavy, and the colouring matter passes a
long way down the claw along the stem.

Iris Bakeriana is another early bird. I had one
(potted) in bloom on New Year's day. The flower
is a wonderful combination of two purples. The
standards and styles are of the colour of the common
violet; the falls are tipped, splashed, and streaked
with the darkest velvety purple imaginable. This
tint lies on a white ground, and the contrast is unique
and lovely. The outside of the claw is striped with a
paler tone of colour, and the middle line has a slight
wash of yellow, but its tone is faint compared with
the hue of the pollen, where the anther lies under its
little style-cowl. The fruitful dust is a bright gold,
and the iris is most fragrant You shall meet no

THE IRIS 133

more distinguished little flower in any February than
this. It comes from the confines of Armenia, and
Mr. Lynch says that the foliage often attains to a
foot's length before it blooms. My cold frame speci-
men, however, stood up well above the spike of
curious eight-sided leaves, but these grew swiftly after
the flower had fallen. Herr Max Leichtlin chronicles
a white form, which must be a very exquisite creature.

Iris Vartani is less known. It comes from near
Nazareth, where Dr. Vartan found it, and is a com-
bination of dull lavender and pale yellow. I have
failed to flower it as yet

Another Xiphion (though some say it belongs to
the Juno group) is Mrs. Danford's wee golden iris
from Mount Amascha. This is a pretty mite for pot
work. The blossom is a fine yellow, with a few
brown splashes on the fall. The standard for floral
effect is non-existent, since nature has reduced it to
a mere thread. Why ?

So much for my Xiphions. To offer you pic-
tures of these small people is hardly fair to them.
Photography cannot reach or remotely suggest their
charms.

The Juno group flower with the earlier xiphions
and may next be named. In connection with
iris sindjarensis, one murmurs " that blessed word
Mesopotamia." Thence it comes, and its exquisite
mingling of lavender and French grey produce a
tender effect as of a dream flower. The falls are
almost translucent and of the palest blue, touched
with deeper tones along the edge, and marked by an

134 MY GARDEN

irregular upstanding median line of faint yellow. The
style branches echo the mingled colours in a darker
shade, and make a hood for the anthers. The pollen
is white ; the little standards drop abruptly between
the falls, and add their own tint to the harmonious
whole. Delicate lines mark their centres, and their
lobes are fretted round the margins. The grace of
this flower, half springing from and half nestling in
the great green clasping leaves, is felt by every iris
lover. The blossom, often four inches across, comes
in March. A combination of this delicate thing with
the purple and gold of reticulata, such as stands
before me while I write, actually helps to soften the
hard edges of life ; and if you retort that the tribula-
tion must be trifling to which a flower can minister, I
must reply, with respect, that you are wrong, and have
yet much to learn in the garden.

Best of this group I love the sea-green and purple
of persica. In 1787 the figure of this lovely thing was
given as the first plate of the historic Botanical
Magazine, and to-day, when I open the volume, per-
sica faces me as fresh as when her colours were first
laid upon the engraved outline by a hand that must
have been dust these many years. For accuracy of
shades, the modern mechanical processes cannot stand
for a moment beside the old hand-painted botanies*
I fail to ripen this fine thing, and a year or two sees
it decline in company with stenophylla (Heldreichii)
and Sieheana (persica magna). All these flower from
the ripe bulb once and only once. The comparatively
new Tauri has flowered well with me, but whether

-— - »-- —

THE IRIS 135

it will settle I know not. As the little soul comes
from the Eastern Taurus, and prospers at an eleva-
tion of 6500 feet, its constitution ought to laugh at a
west-country rockery. But our weeping atmosphere
is against us. If I could smother Tauri in snow
through three months of the year, he would doubt-
less be grateful. This iris is very handsome in the
fashion of I. reticulata, and a splendid laster. Mr.
Lynch gives it high praise, and I venture to do the
like.

Another fairly new iris of the Juno company is
Warleyensis, which flowers well with me ; but I fail
to find so much beauty in it as some report. With me
the blossom cannot be said to have a white margin to
the petals ; the general tone is an indifferent purple,
darkening on the blade of the fall, and having a
median line and signal of feeble yellow. The form,
however, even in my inferior specimens, is ex-
ceedingly distinguished and effective. It is a free
flowerer, appearing after sindjarensis. From Eastern
Bokhara it comes. Orchioides I blush to lack, and
the new and choice Willmottiana, happily named
after one of the greatest woman gardeners in England,
is still that rare thing — an expensive iris. Rosen-
bachiana, too, makes the purse shut thoughtfully ;
but it is a very great iris, and Sir Michael Foster
puts it, along with reticulata and alata, as among
his favourites. Rosenbachiana, he says, is of striking
beauty in its finer forms, but it varies much. At its
best this must be a gorgeous thing of crimson, gold,
and purple. " Expose to the sun, and shelter from

136 MY GARDEN

the wind/' directs the great authority : a good rule
that for all the Juno race.

Caucasica is also here, and with alata, the " scorpion
iris/' one may conclude the group. Perhaps this
sole representative of a Western Juno is the love-
liest of them all. The form is very fine, and the
best colour a rich purple-blue, while on each fall
flashes the orange " signal/' like that little flame on a
golden-crested wren's head. From October and on-
wards it blooms, but too surely passes away from
rectitude after a year of my garden, and hides the
lapse for a while in bunches of foliage innocent of
flower. Would that we had the climate and the
genius of the Dutch for these things ! Junos laugh at
cold, if only the summer has been of a sort to ripen
them; but with me it seldom is. Devon, in fact,
cannot be called a really good iris county, excepting
for the moisture-lovers. From what I have seen, I
would back the high and sandy ridges of Kent against
any part of the United Kingdom for these flowers.
The sustained cheapness of the noble family alone
keeps me here struggling with them in the mud :
because, while ripe bulbs are to be had at such trifling
rates, it matters but little if they perish. Nothing
suffers save a man's own horticultural self-respect

The Hermodactylus group is represented, so far as
I know, by iris tuberosa only. The li snake's head,"
or " little widow," prospers in half shade with me, and
sends up a modest company of quiet blooms in
March. The style-arms are delicate green ; the
standards are upright green threads folded in on

THE IRIS 137

themselves, and the falls are also pale green, darken-
ing to a rich velvety brown-black on the blade.
The pollen is yellow, and the blossom seems to
break out of the side of the green spathe-valve,
which overtops it. These spathes are, by the way,
double in my plants. Devon suits this Levantine
flower well, and it increases rapidly if allowed to
do so.

Another group of only one species is Gynandiris.
and I believe Sisyrinchium is its sole representative.
This is Parkinson's " Barbery nut," and Mr. Lynch
records that he collected a variety, near Genoa, that
was exceedingly charming and has fared well with
him at Cambridge. My specimens came from Holland
and prosper thus far. Their original habitat I know
not, as there are several places from which they may
have started. They make up for very fleeting flowers
by abundance of them; but these need sunshine
to make them expand, and if they reach the critical
flowering-day without it, they perish untimely. The
colour is a lovely lavender, with streak of yellow on
median line of fall ; a large white signal patch slightly
spattered with the prevailing tint also distinguishes
them. Stigmas and standards all spring up in a
cluster in the midst, and the standards, which are
delicately pointed, grow at right angles to the stem.
The little thing is hardy, and some in my garden
habitually throw double blooms with six of each part
instead of three. For this, however, I do not com-
mend them. Sisyrinchium is almost the least of the
irises, yet a spritely blossom and quite worth growing.

138 MY GARDEN

If you do not like it after a fair trial, you can eat
the bulb.

I now reach that rare and precious flower, I. ne-
palensis. My roots flowered during July, and I can
therefore give you a picture of the blossom. Last
year this dainty atom opened its eyes somewhere
under the snow-line of the Himalayas; this year,
with amazing amiability, it appears again in South
Devon. What a staggering change of scene is here I
It is a pity there was no I. Milesii out at the right
moment to welcome the other mighty traveller.
Nepalensis has a medium-sized flower of the softest
and most dovelike silvery lavender. Falls and
standards all droop daintily at the same angle, and
in the midst spring up the fimbriated style-cowls. A
good yellow-bearded crest runs far into each fall,
and the petal about it is veined with the prevailing
tint of lavender on white. 1 The bloom opens on a
stem six inches long, and the sprightly foliage is
about twelve inches high. Unhappily the flower is
very fleeting, and my efforts to catch it and convey it
to the photographer would win your admiration if I
recorded them. Nepalensis opens not much before
noon, and has usually vanished by half-past three
o'clock; but you shall seek far to find anything
more beautiful.

\ * Mr. Lynch specially praises the other variety of this species, which

is called Colletii.

CHAPTER X

THE IRIS {continued)

It pleased me not a little to see that the greatest living
biologist, and one of the greatest living men, Professor
Ernst Haeckel, quotes the iris amongst his examples
of sensible loveliness. Under the head of actinal
beauty (radial aesthetics) he shows how pleasure is
excited by the orderly arrangement of three or more
homogeneous, simple forms that radiate about a
common centre; and he cites the four paramera
in the body of a medusa, the five radial limbs of
the star-fish, and the three counterpieces in an iris
bloom. Beauty of order is apparent all through
nature, and never more strikingly than in this dis-
posal of nine in one — the three times three of the
iris — with its six perianth segments and triple style-
arms. In the matter of colours, also, the flower
generally conforms to a great, if an old-fashioned,
criterion of the beautiful Burke held that the
hues of lovely bodies " must not be dusky or muddy,
but clean and fair." He doubted if colours should
be of the strongest kind, but held that milder tones
of "light greens, soft blues, weak whites, pink reds,
and violets " were more appropriate. Since, however,
strong and vivid hues could not be excluded from

i 4 o MY GARDEN

the survey of any flora or tropic scene, he bar-
gained that these high colours should be diversified,
and the object never entirely dominated by one.
The peacock's neck, the opal, the rainbow, and the
rainbow-flower all answer to this test.

Let us now approach the great subject of cushion
irises. An expert has said that when the oncocyclus
group chanced to meet his eye in an English garden,
he was reminded of the gladiatorial hail, " Morituri te
salutant ! " And indeed these wonderful things would
usually seem to anticipate * their own extinction and
lift the fitful flower or aborted bud of farewell over
their own graves. We do not understand them, and
only a rare spirit here and there has succeeded in
bringing them to perfection and providing the con-
ditions they demand. But how great the reward 1
Their melancholy stateliness; their solitary habit;
their size, and the magic of their colouring and forms,
lift them above, not only all other irises, but all other
flowers that I have ever seen outside a dream. They
are to the garden what Chopin is to music. As he
was a genius apart who, out of suffering, and an
artist's joy that rose above suffering, poured forth
magic of harmony and beauty to delight men's ears,
and so intoxicated them with glory of sound that they
often forgot the quivering nerve-centres of the human
miracle who wrought them : so with these most
wonderful, beautiful, and sad of flowers, we sometimes
miss the spirit in them while overjoyed or overawed
by the substance. Without foundering in the pathetic
fallacy, I yet have always felt before cushion irises

IRIS NEPALENSIS.

(

IRIS SCSIAN.-l.

THE IRIS 141

that I behold something more than a flower. Many
men and women pass me by, or speak with me and
eat with me, and both affect and teach me less. It is
wrong, but it is true.

Take I. susiana, the great Turkey fleur-de-luce of old
botanists. When first I saw it in the market-place at
Toulon, I fancied that the women who sat beside the
mossy fountain there were selling artificial blossoms
of the sort that make hideous many French burying-
places ; but then I came nearer and found the verit-
able mourning flower of the Japanese — a huge iris,
with petals that seemed woven of transparent cr&pe.
Sorrow is written in cryptic language on its delicate
darkness : a fitting emblem of a nation's mourning,
and worthy to rest on the coffin of saint or hero, is
this sombre and solemn thing. As I write a specimen
stands before me, that trembled into life yesterday to
speak to the living of death. Its texture is a sable
silvered. Like arches of little caverns, the style-arms
with upturned crests bend over the anthers and open
above each signal patch — black as a pall. Closely
spattered with ebony are the falls, and between the
interstices of this mottling run tiny lines of wine-
purple. The hairs are black and widely scattered,
not only over the fall but over the standards also.
These standards spring gloriously up, and are densely
embroidered with black on palest grey. The mark-
ings are finest and smallest along the median lines,
then they increase in size, and finally stretch into a
delicate, dark venation at the petal edge. The falls
are five and a half inches high, and meet together

i 4 2 MY GARDEN

like wings brooding over the darkness within. Seen
against the light, a wonderful pattern of network
and splash that covers the whole flower will be found
not black but purple — a red purple on the falls and
style-arms, and a violet purple on the standards. No
man has spoken a better word upon this iris than
Parkinson, and none have so perfectly described the
colour in a phrase. " The chief of all/ 1 he says, " is
your Sable flower, so fit for a mourning habit that I
thinke in the whole compasse of nature's store, there
is not a more patheticall, or of greater correspond-
ency, nor yet among all the flowers I know any one
comming neare unto the colour of it" Elsewhere
he says that it is of the hue "almost of a snake's
skinne, it is so diversely spotted." The cast slough
of a serpent is certainly a simile of genius for this
extraordinary flower.

If susiana be the queen of irises, and fit adornment
for the bosom of our loved dead, then Lorteti may
be called king, and his brilliance, purity, and wonder
are worthy to stand for an emblem of life and dawn.
It is nearly as large as susiana, and I may struggle
vainly to describe the amazing thing from the plant
I figure. This, in its second year, has just given
me five blossoms. Certainly it is the most beautiful
flower I have ever seen, even in the tropics. The
great standards are silvery white most delicately
veined with purple; and the contrast of the falls is
striking, for these have a groundwork of golden white
or palest cream-colour, and are closely spattered with
crimson, which deepens on the signal patch to darkest

IRIS LQRTET1

IRIS KOHOLKOtVI.

THE IRIS 143

crimson-brown. The style-branches match the falls,
but are coloured a duller crimson, and the tint is
spread in a wash rather than spatter. At the edge,
however, they too are spattered; the median ridge
lifts a little, and the style-crest is dotted like the falls,
but much more minutely. Short reddish hairs lie in
the throat under the pale yellow anther, and the fall,
which is translucent, curves round under the flower,
so that its wondrous beauty is somewhat lost The
standards bend together like fairy wings, and their
claws are also crimson dotted.

From Lebanon comes this glorious flower, and
there, on the roasting cliff-faces and far beneath the
snowy peaks and precipices, it flourishes at a modest
elevation of two thousand feet.

Iris Gatesii, another magnificent oncocyclus, is at
home in Armenia, and is said to combine the qualities
of susiana and Lorteti. The prevailing tone is a
delicate grey; while in lupina, the " Wolfs Ear,"
another Armenian, the colour scheme is a combina-
tion of pale brown and yellow, producing an effect
as of bright wolf fur. I have failed with these, but
succeeded with I. iberica, a plant of great beauty. It
varies much, the colour scheme tending to purples
and crimson-purples. It comes from the Caucasus,
and one may picture its loveliness at the feet of
Prometheus, where he hung crucified against those
eternal rocks in the awful noonday sun. Paradoxa
has so far defied me also, but such an astonishing
thing must be flowered at any cost of time and
patience. " It is grotesquely beautiful," happily says

144 MY GARDEN

Mr. Lynch ; and it may not be mistaken for any other
iris that grows by virtue of its reduced fall and
immense, veined standard. Parvar is a good hybrid
raised by Sir Michael Foster between paradoxa and
variegata. I have a stout and healthy plant of this.
Ewbankiana, happily named after that great iris-
grower, the late Rev. H. Ewbank, and acutiloba I do
not know; but I would sooner possess the yellow
urmiensis, which adds scent to its other distinctions.
This comes from North- West Persia, and is still very
rare.

Atrofusca bitterly disappointed me last season.
This fine oncocyclus from the east side of Jordan
threw a splendid bloom-spike, but I did something
wrong, no doubt — too much water, or else too little
probably — and it withered untimely away. A friend
consoled me with a sight of atro-purpurea.

This oncocyclus had little of purple about it in the
flower I beheld. The colour harmony was rather of
rich sepia and gold. The falls were a deep, lustrous
brown, and they darkened to a broad central spot of
black that shone like velvet The beard was yellow,
each hair being tipped with black. The pollen showed
pale corn-colour, and the style-arms changed their
tint at the stigma from a gold shot with brown to
the rich chocolate tone which dominated the entire
blossom, and lent it a wonderful opulence and gloomy
splendour. Like others of the clan, it simply killed
any flower brought into contact with it.
. The comparatively new nigricans I have flowered
with success, and find it the darkest of all — as nearly

THE IRIS 145

a black flower as I have seen. But it is the warm
blackness of Indian ink, and, like others of this sort,
has a touch of gold on the fall above the signal spot
Its spathe valves were beautifully and regularly reticu-
lated with brown inside. Haynei is another new iris
declared to be exceedingly beautiful ; and Eggeri is
yet another, though this has been in catalogues for
some time. These are of the brown and gold char-
acter ; but sofarana and Bismarkiana, both from the
Lebanon mountains, are harmonies in purple. For
the culture of these treasures you must go to Mr.
Lynch, who chronicles many brilliant successes ; but
do not think a light task lies before you. Nothing
in gardening is much more difficult, and a large
patience under disappointments manifold will be
necessary. Take this, however, for your comfort :
Oncocyclus irises are exceedingly cheap* They must
flourish abundantly somewhere, and increase at a
generous rate. As to where you should go for them,
that i% a delicate question and not my business, yet
I shall venture to name Mr. Robert Wallace of the
far-famed Kilnfield Gardens, Colchester, in this con-
nection, and advise you to start with the strong, ripe,
and healthy rhizomes he can supply. Many of the
Dutchmen also provide excellent material.

The Regelia group is small and select. It has been
crossed successfully with Oncocyclus, and is certainly
easier to grow. My plants — also from Kilnfield —
flowered in their first year, and that abundantly. The
superb Korolkowi is a Turkestan iris, and was first

sent to his native country by the Russian General

146 MY GARDEN

Korolkow. Whether he happened to be a great
soldier I know not ; but he certainly contributed to
the beauty of the garden world when he found this
wonderful flower.

The shape of Korolkowi is exceedingly distin-
guished, and its contour reveals immense character.
Some flowers are utterly tame, and have an almost
inane expression, like the average sheep and many
men and women. Not so an iris. Even my photo-
graph indicates the forceful aspect of Korolkowi ; but
no black and white picture can give the silver-grey
texture of petal or the exquisite colour of the vena-
tion. Falls and standards are of similar hue in some
of my plants : the palest lavender white, or grey ; and
over both a purple net is thrown, that spreads from
the median line and breaks into little branches toward
the petal edge. The signal is purple-black, and from
it, along each fall, there drop a few delicate parallel
lines of a slightly darker hue than the surrounding
reticulation. The beard is small and black, and the
pollen, pale gold. The style-arms are short, purple-
veined, and crested. There are several varieties of
this species, and my picture answers to venosa.
Violacea is not so beautiful to my mind, and the type
has paler standards. This I lack, but it is probably
the best of all.

Regelia Leichtlini might be called " Bluebeard," for
the hairs, which occur on the standards as well as the
falls, are richly tipped with azure. The flower has a
fine habit and very neat shape, but is smaller and far
less splendid every way than Korolkowi. The colour

IRIS FWBRIATA JAFONICA.

IRIS RI.GHLIA LEICHTLINI.

THE IRIS 147

scheme is purple changing into delicate brown. A
russet network covers every petal, but the effect is
pallid as a whole. The variety Vaga Leichtlini I find
a better thing, of much richer and finer colours.
Regelias ask for care and summer roasting ; but they
are easier to manage than the cushion irises, and give
you two flowers for their one. Thanks to Sir Michael
Foster and Herr Tubergen, many splendid hybrids
of Regelia and Oncocyclus are now in the market.
Many of these have the grandeur of the latter with
the twin flowers and comparatively strong constitu-
tion of Regelia. They are of course still costly.

Now for another splendid and select little family :
that of Evansia. The subject is painful because it
reminds me of the perfidy of the Dutch. You will
remember their special little eccentricity in matters of
commerce, but one nurseryman — he shall be name-
less — arranged an ingenious variant of the rule. He
did not give me too little and ask too much ; but he
asked too little and — gave me something different
Observing this impostor's price for Iris cristata, I lost
no time in communicating with him. I think he
wanted but a penny a root for this! lovely crested iris
from Maryland and Kentucky. My stock of Ameri-
cans was pitifully low ; therefore the more greedily I
jumped at this attractive opportunity. You will guess
the sequel. Instead of cristata's noble and unique
lilac and gold, a mean and uninteresting hybrid of
Germanica appeared. My ignorance and cupidity
were well paid, for I ought to have suspected from
the first ; and I ought to have recognised the rhizones

148 MY GARDEN

sent as not belonging to cristata. I wrote and told
my Dutchman that this was not the way to make a
new customer his friend ; he did not argue the
question, but sent another catalogue 1

The queen of the Evansia * section is, of course,
fimbriata, or Chinensis, or japonica, the Chinese iris.
This is a tender plant, but makes strong growth in a
suitable situation, though I have not flowered it in the
open ground. As a pot plant it is much to be com-
mended, and flowers freely. Each lofty and delicate
stem carries from ten to fifteen blossoms with me,
but I seldom have more than three or four out simul-
taneously. It is a fleeting flower, and nothing can be
much fairer than its delicate lavender petals all bend-
ing at the same angle from the perianth tube in a
tender star of six rays. Not only are standard and
fall most exquisitely fringed, but the uplifted style-
branches break at their edges into a ragged turmoil of
tiny filaments, and thin away at their margins into
threads. The fretted edges and crimped crest make
this flower even lovelier than our own wild water
buck-bean or the villarsia. Fimbriata's standards are
of a colour so faint and pure, that it seems a delicate
shadow rather than a tint thrown upon the white
texture of the petal ; while over the falls, on a similar
ground, there lie rings of richer purple, which spread
into veins and die away on the blades. From the
midst of these rings there flashes the rich orange
" signal." The crest also is of brilliant yellow, with

1 Evansia, So called alter Mr. Evans of the India House, who intro-
duced Iris fimbriata from China somewhat more than a hundred years ago.

THE IRIS 149

a white fringe along it, and the spots of purple as
they reach the gold turn to pale brown, then merge
in the yellow. Seen through a magnifying-glass the
work on the fall is infinitely beautiful, and one
appreciates the actual texture of the bloom. Each
petal then appears like a piece of frosted silver
whereon the pigments have been laid in trans-
parent washes. The flower is fragrant, and I
think excites more enthusiasm than any iris I show
to friends.

To see fimbriata in full loveliness one must go
abroad. On the Italian Riviera it is a grand feature
of the gardens, and I remember a bank in full flower
where a thousand spikes and perhaps four thousand
blossoms scented the sunshine of a March forenoon
in Genoa. It is a precious sight in a formal garden
sprawling along some marble-edged bed. I have
indeed seen nothing more splendid in connection
with architectural details. One is reminded at Genoa
of what Landor says : " We Englishmen talk of
planting a garden, the modern Italians and ancient
Romans talk of building one." But surely perfection
lies in combining the two theories : in building the
garden first and planting it afterwards.

So far I can only admire Iris Milesii in my own
garden for its immense bright green foliage and
vigorous habit, but I recently visited the flower
at Kew, where it does grandly in the open border,
and found it a stately thing with plum-purple falls, a
slight yellow crest, and handsome standards of a
colour somewhat paler than the rest of the flower.

i$o MY GARDEN

The late Frank Miles, artist of fair faces and lover of
the garden, introduced it from the Himalayas.

Another Evansia is gracilipes, which I have quite
failed to flower. This is a Japanese plant ; and yet
another from the same country is my favourite,
tectorum — the roof iris — called also tomiolopha, " the
jagged crest" It came to England in 1872, and
began to find its way into gardens a year or two after-
wards. The flower of tectorum is a beautiful true
violet slightly mottled with darker colour. Not a
suspicion of yellow marks it, but the falls have a
wonderful frill, like our great-grandfathers' shirt-
fronts, and this broken, laciniated fringe is spotted
with purple^-even as our great-grandfathers' also
were sometimes after the second bottle. The pollen
is white, the stigma branches stand up clear of the
flower in the midst, and the standards are spoon-
shaped, and grow at right angles to the stem. Very
unusual grace and beauty mark this iris, and for
those who love to link a flower to humanity there
is the story about it from Japan, and the reason why
the plant won its trivial name. Moderns say that
tectorum is grown to strengthen the thatch in which
it creeps and flourishes ; but if we retrace our steps
a more picturesque reason may be found. Once
there was a famine in the land, and all things that
could not be used for food were banished from the
soil. On pain of grave penalty might a man plant
that which would produce beauty only. But the iris
of the jagged crest was stronger than necessity, and
answered a higher law than hunger. It belonged to

IRIS TOMIOLOPHA (TECTORUM).

fas

THE IRIS 151

fashion. The Japanese ladies used the powder of its
roots to whiten their pretty faces, and enhance the
brilliance of eyebrows, eyes, and mouths. Hunger,
indeed, might have been trusted to rob their little
cheeks of colour, but they could not face each other
without this precious powder ; and the irises, banished
from the garden, found their way to the roof. Doubt-
less, however, this is a legend, for the stories good
enough to be true so seldom are.

CHAPTER XI
THE IRIS [concluded)

I DO hope and trust that a touch of soil is over all
this little book. I should like it to appear in the
words, as it actually does on the pages. If you could
see the MS. you would often observe trails of red or
black or brown colour, according to the medium of
loam, or peat, or leaf mould in which I was grubbing
when moved to rush and set things down. Some-
times yellow or scarlet pollen is smeared upon the
folio. My typewriter forgives these things. Nothing
dismays her — not even the botanical names as they
appear in my writing. Let me thank her here for
her invincible courage and amazing accuracy.

I am now come from digging about certain beard-
less irises, and shall immediately begin upon that
subject Sibirica needs no more than grateful
mention. Its various purples, creams, and whites
are invaluable. The iris is a marsh lover, but my
clumps of half-a-dozen sorts thrive in a half-shady
corner far from water, and get no more moisture
than heaven sends them. They have, however, a
mulch of ripe cow-manure every autumn ; and upon
this fare they increase in vigour yearly. A giant
libertia flourishes along with them.

»5*

THE IRIS 153

Perhaps unguicularis, or stylosa, as one more often
calls it, is the queen of the beardless group. At any
rate, I always think so at Christmas, when her lilac
loveliness peeps from the grassy foliage. The great
flat purple and gold, lavender and snow white of
laevigata in July sometimes shakes this opinion, but,
upon the whole, stylosa wins — if only from associa-
tion. It was at my bedside in Algiers, when I suffered
some transient danger of death from pneumonia, but
secured a respite. Through the fever dreams of the
time flowers ran riot. Stylosa smiled, but the grand
strelitzias, which flourished in the hotel garden, took
shape of huge birds, and with their wonderful beaks
and orange-crimson crests strutted hither and thither
ferociously. The camels of the Arabs shrank to
the size of mice, and scurried in legions through my
brain ; the eternal bells rang and jangled old songs of
home ; all the thousand new ideas and impressions of
colour, sound, scent, and form that North Africa had
brought me broke loose at the beck of the fever fairies,
and played havoc with the nightly struggle to sleep.
A sinister turn marked these visions. My mind and
body alike were soaked with the contagion of disease.
The scent of olive wood and the name of Dr.
Thompson cling also to memory when I think of
the incident Because olive wood burnt day and
night beside me for a season ; and Dr. Thompson,
assisted by nature and science, brought me out of
that peril in a manner very agreeable to us both.
Another flower also I link with the occasion — that
very splendid thing, Bougainvillaea spectabilis laterita.

154 MY GARDEN

Great sprays of this glorious plant, brought to my
bedside in the hand of a friend, shone like a
flame there, and helped convalescence with the joy
it wakened. But stylosa was the second heroine of
the comedy — the first, of course, being the Lady of
my Garden, who nursed her stricken gardener back
to normal conditions.

Then, once more afield, with a dust-dry, genial
sirocco blowing, I went forth to find the iris of
Algiers. There she was amid the dewy hedges of
vineyards, her little heart touched with gold. She
peeped about from secret places, tangled wastes, or
the fierce arms of the prickly pear — that gigantic
opuntia whose silver-grey lights every hillside about
Algiers. The purest mauve she is — just deepening
in tone on the fall where the yellow signal ends with
a touch of orange. A delicious network of lavender
and white lies on either side of the signal bar, and
runs over it faintly. The standards are of the same
pure lavender, touched to a richer note at the claw.
To my nose the fragrance is exactly that of a bluebell.
I can shut my eyes and see an English wood in spring.
But when I open them again stylosa reminds me of
her own home. I note whitewashed hovels scattered
on a mighty hillside. They gleam like flowers there ;
and round about the wild olive climbs; vines, still
naked, stick their tortuous branches from a sea of
wild flowers ; heather's snow and lavendula's purple
dot the waste ; and far beneath spread orange orchards
ablaze with fruit. Crags of limestone sometimes break
out against the russet and tawny earth, and the

IRIS STYLOSA.

IRIS STYLOSA ALBA

THE IRIS 155

eternal silver-grey and silver-green of the trees and
familiar, sun-resisting plants festoon each hill and
drape each acclivity and slope. The tilled ground
stretches in terraces and climbs in steps; sinks
broadly to the valleys with wedges and squares of
corn and vine ; cuddles at the bottom of these terrific
declivities, and marks by an added warmth of colour
or luxuriance of foliage the presence of little water-
courses that wind beneath them. Against the pre-
valent pallor of the wind-kissed olive, the cactus
and aloe, the agave and the eucalyptus, is splashed
deep green of citrons, and the acacias flame above.
Far away the Djurdjura Mountains run south against
the blue, and beyond them a spur of the Lesser Atlas
lifts snow to the sun.

Stylosa alba is pure white with a tone of yellow-
green at the claw. If you take a bird's-eye view
of this iris, a beautiful six-rayed star appears. The
guiding line of orange stops very abruptly on the
fall in the midst of a silver-white expanse of petal*
It is a little stiffer in form than the type, and with
me it seems more shy of blooming. 1 My clump of
stylosa has increased immensely in a soil much like
that of its home ; and still I prefer the delicate native
plant before those various larger and richer-coloured
garden sorts now commonly to be met with. Nothing
rejoices a flower-lover more than a dozen buds of
stylosa picked the day before blooming, and despatched

1 Stybsa alba. I did not find this iris wild: it is very fare in that
state. But I had the pleasure of meeting its original discoverer, an
English resident, who has a beantifal garden at Mostapha Snpeneor.

f
156 MY GARDEN

with a little damp cotton-wool to keep their heads
cool in the post. Conveyed thus, they travel per-
fectly, and tremble out into life and sweetness
immediately on arrival.

Iris graminea springs very neatly amid its bright
grass-like foliage. The flower is rather dominated by
the size of its great plum-coloured style-arms. These
are much in evidence, and, with the neat, narrow
standards, are of a rich purple-red, that deepens to
pure purple on the crests and along the central line.
The falls are lilac, streaked on white and touched with
pale yellow, but towards the claw they partake of the
prevailing colour of the flower. The pollen is like
gold dust My variety appears to be scentless; but
the older botanists credit graminea with a plum-like
odour, as well as colour. It may be so, for my nose is
not as swift after subtleties as I could wish, and often
misses a delicate and exquisite odour .that makes other
people quite enthusiastic. This Austrian iris is bright
and shapely, but fleeting. There is no hardier plant, and
slugs seem not to like it as much as most of the tribe.

That grand iris, fulva, is too rarely found, but once
seen usually acquired. It must have moisture, how-
ever. The colour is a rich copper-red, quite unlike
any other member of the family. The anthers, with
cream-coloured pollen, extend beyond the style-arms ;
the flower is flat, and the falls and standards make
a star of alternate large and small petals. Fulva
grows with laevigata, and prospers under like con-
ditions in my little bog garden. It is a distinguished
iris from the United States.

THE IRIS 157

American irises in general are as beardless as Red
Indians. Upon the whole, they are not too easy to
grow. Macrosiphon and Hartwegi and Douglasiana
from California ; tenax from British Columbia ; Mis-
souriensis from the Rockies ; Hookeri and virginica
from Canada, and others, including the plant I. verna,
which may be, or may not be, an apogon, all, I think,
require moist peat and shade and careful culture. My
results with them leave no loophole for enthusiasm
so far ; but on behalf of " Tol-long," a very charming
and easily-grown hybrid, I should like to know if
a difference between Missouriensis and Tolmieana
does or does not exist. Longipetala is one parent,
at any rate, and may be proud of a dainty child.
Tol-long is bright lavender, with the habit of longi-
petala, narrow, upright standards, small style-arms,
and falls streaked with the prevailing fine lavender
colour on a white ground. A signal of pale lemon
fades away on the fall, and completes a very delicate
and graceful study. It is a vigorous iris, and the
flowers often come out so swiftly that we may see
two on a stem together. Verna, from the Southern
States, must be a very lovely iris, but so far I have
not flowered it It grew into a large plant on our
red earth, then began to perish. Now, in a lily bed
of peat, where the spot is cool and in half shade, it
looks healthier and well content.

The native English irises, the golden Pseudacorus
and the lead-coloured foetidissima, are exceedingly
common wild flowers in Devon, and having them
within a walk of my garden, it is not necessary that

158 MY GARDEN

they should dwell therein ; but our " gladwin," with
its strange smell, splendid dark foliage, and glorious
scarlet corals of fruit in autumn, has always appealed
to me as a fellow-Devonian, and I have wondered
whether culture and crossing with other apogons
might not produce something that should possess a
finer bloom than foetidissima, and yet retain its unique
and brilliant fruit Of course, I knew that what
mortal man could do in this matter had indubitably
been done, and accordingly wrote to Sir Michael
Foster. As I suspected, he had made exhaustive
experiments, but, so far, without any very encourag-
ing results. He tells me that for years he has worked
with foetidissima, using the pollen of spuria, Monnieri,
aurea, ochroleuca, sibirica, and others. Seeds have
appeared in some cases; but very few germinated.
Two, however, actually flowered, and they showed
no trace of anything but their mother. Here ap-
pears a sort of partheno-genesis excited by the
pollen, though the pollen did not actually enter into
the embryo. "This," says Sir Michael, "may seem
heresy, but there are facts recently observed in ani-
mals, as well as plants, which lend it some support"
He continues, "I believe I. foetidissima to be a
very ancient archaic iris. It has a wide geographi-
cal distribution, and yet varies very little — and then
only in colour (which is a trifle) and in size. Its
characters, from its great age, are so deeply stamped
on it that it will not, like the parvenus (pallida,
&c. &c), take to foreign pollen." He urges further
experiments, and characteristically remarks, "There

IRIS FULVA.

IRIS DELAVAYI.

THE IRIS 159

are few things that are impossible." There is thus
a field unconquered, and we may yet see an iris with
the grand fruit of our native and a great bloom as
well. Not that foetidissima is ugly to the iris-loving
eye. The colours are quiet, but the bloom is very
shapely. A yellow variety occurs in Dorsetshire.

I continue to experiment with the grand family of
laevigata, or Kaempferi, and am not yet absolutely
satisfied as to the best place for them. There are
dozens of desirable forms, and I wish I had an
acre of them. Good bog earth, but not absolute
marsh, may be the best treatment. On the other
hand, I understand that laevigata thrives nobly in
a foot of water.

Iris aurea, for some obscure reason, is a shy
flowerer with me, but his kinsman, Monnieri, does
well, and opens grand bright yellow blooms in June.
The hybrid "Monspur" — a child of Monnieri and
spuria — I also have ; but the plants are young, and
I must look in other gardens for this showy iris
until next year. Spuria is not a beauty, but the
apogon, Delavayi, should win some enthusiasm, and
is still rare in cultivation. I have had the good luck
to flower it, treated like laevigata, and can report a
very beautiful, rich violet iris with the habit of sibi-
rica but a much larger bloom. The whole plant is
one colour, but on the lip of the fall occurs a spatter
of pure white running under the style-branches.
The fall is very long and gracefully shaped, the
standards are narrow and nearly upright. Delavayi
stands on a hollow three-foot stem, and comes from

160 MY GARDEN

Yunnan in China. It is a desirable plant, but
demands copious moisture. Mine grows with his
feet actually in the water.

The white and cream-yellow pyramids of I. orien-
talis need merely be mentioned. This great iris rises
five feet high, and is a pleasant sight in my bog
basin during June. This year, when I counted upon
a worthy picture, it was shy and bloomed but
sparingly, though, as a rule, I have thirty to forty
spikes in flower together upon it. The giant variety
of orientalis is said to go six feet high, and must be
a great spectacle when well established. The plant
is more often called ochroleuca, and it comes from
Syria.

Iris Grant-Duffii, I think, suffers under its rather
trying name, and is a shy flowerer, while tenax also
fails here — from my fault, probably, rather than its
own. Now, in wet peat, it is promising well.

I keep the great family of the bearded irises until
the last It is the largest of all, and, upon the whole,
the easiest to grow. Pumila comes first, and late
March generally brings the first dwarf purples, while
the yellows, lilacs, and that curious silver-grey pumila,
known as "gracilis," follow swiftly. With me they
increase and thrive on a ledge of my white rockery.
The flowers need no special description, but are all
pretty. The variety Italica blooms with me at the
same time as the dwarfer sorts. I gathered fine
plants of it one March in North Italy, where its
purple spattered a little conduit upon the side of a
hill. Round about spread undergrowth of rosemary,

THE IRIS 161

myrtle, and mastic. 1 The stones were plastered with
moss and starred with rosettes of a mountain saxi-
frage ; from the mottled chestnut-leaves that strewed
the ground, there sprang pale crocuses, each with a
drop of red gold within. Far below, rounded to
a cup so seen, there spread great plains of olive,
and old grey mills dotted upon them, with tracts of
red earth and dark cypress spires that struck per-
pendicular rows and splashes upon the scene and
sprang dark from the pallor of the prevalent foliage.
On either side of the mountain rolled the Mediter-
ranean, and small towns clustered upon her margins,
like bright shells scattered along the edge of the
blue, while Corsica floated, like a dream island, on
the lofty horizon of the sea. Grand silence dwelt
upon those southern slopes, and through it, felt rather
than heard, came the whisper of bells that rang far
away. Beyond the misty glories of Italy outspread,
earth faded and a white diadem of mountains rose.
They ascended into huge sunny vapours that rolled
down upon them, until one might not separate shed
and unshed snows against the eternal blue that
reigned above both. It was a good home for Italica,
yet she left it with me, and in a large spirit of
contentment put forth rich purple blossoms in her

1 Mastic, The lentiscus, or pistacia, is a feature of Riviera flora. Martial
recommends the wood for toothpicks. There is a drink made from the
gam, which I once tried at Tripoli, in Syria, and remember as being
violently nasty. The liquor was colourless, bat curdled on water being
added to it. No doubt mastic is an acquired taste, like every intoxi-
cant. This gam has always been drank or chewed in the East, and our
" masticate " of course comes from the same Greek word.

1 62 MY GARDEN

prison here when the next season for blooming came.
She dwelt beside a wild and reckless aqueduct, which
my lady and I followed for an adventurous mile or
two, until it leapt out on to a little precipice and
defied us.

Italica is a variety of the pumila, Chamseiris, and
another variety is olbiensis — a plant offered in various
colours by the nurserymen. From Mr. Wallace I
have an exceedingly pretty variety of rich yellow
with a spatter of purple on the fall. Meda is another
fine, fragrant pumila which I lack. Mr. Lynch
speaks highly of it.

Next we may take the two-flowered pogons; and
of these one appears with the pumilas. Lutescens
will appeal to those who love a delicate colour har-
mony. It bears twin blooms on a twelve-inch stalk ;
and the standards, which are cream-coloured, curl
over each other in a very dainty fashion. Their
claws are veined with pale purple, and the style-
arms peep between. The pollen of lutescens is white,
and the filaments a delicate purple. The beard of
this iris is tipped with yellow, and it extends an inch
on to the fall ; while the fall itself is traversed by
delicate veins of purple-brown, which begin sharply
defined and pale away over the surface of the petals.
The plant came to me as a pumila, but soon showed
it was sailing under false colours. Thereupon I
marched it off to a gravel path and planted it there.
The edge of a gravel path, by the way, is an excel-
lent place for hardy rhizomatous irises; and if you
can borrow a steam-roller to plant them with, so

IRIS -MADAME CHEREAU:

THE IRIS 163

much the better will be your results. The oncocyclus
group should have the ground simply hammered
round them if they are to succeed in any degree
at all.

I am badly off for the two-flowered bearded race,
and, in addition to lutescens, possess only arenaria,
atroviolacea and flavissima. Perhaps it is as well that
I have no more, for none of these prosper with me
except the splendid scented atroviolacea, and the
pall of silence may envelop the rest. The entire
group must be tackled again in a humbler spirit

From these inexcusable failures I turn to another
great company of bearded irises, and with the Ger-
manicae strive to gain my self-respect. Of them I
have good store. The familiar germanica proper
may be first dismissed with a smile, and its richer
and grander variety, asiatica, with a blessing. This
latter plant is a noble, free-flowering iris, well worthy
of a good place. Perhaps the rarest in cultivation
is Barton i, for which I have to thank Mr. Lynch of
Cambridge. It is a pale yellow, mottled with pale
purple, after the fashion of lutescens ; and a special
feature are the pure white triple stars of the style-
branches in the heart of the flower. This flag, which
comes from Kandahar, is beautiful and fragrant.
Iris flavescens of this group is a fine lemon or
butter colour, and a kindly, free - flowering plant
Just a touch of brown about the claw of the fall
spoils the perfect purity of my plants, but this is
scarcely to be noticed. Flavescens and germanica
sometimes come together and make a grand contrast.

164 MY GARDEN

As a rule, however, the yellow flower is later. But
never mix irises when cut. A few spikes of one
sort together will please you best. Flavescens comes
from Armenia, and that fine iris, sambucina, of the
elder scent, is a compatriot.

Neglecta — a very free flowerer — is said to be a
hybrid between sambucina and variegata. It has lav-
ender standards and style-arms, and a handsome fall
of very rich purple-red streaked on a white ground.

But the noblest of the clan, to my mind, is Iris
hybrida, or amoena, as it is very often named. This
is exceedingly distinguished, and the almost invari-
able pure white standards and style -arms, rising
above the grand purple or white and lavender falls,
make a remarkable contrast. Few things are lovelier
than a good group of "Thorbeck" or "Mrs. H.
Darwin." To my own taste, hybrida is easily first
among the great company of the Germanics. Bili-
otti must also be very good, and cypriana is declared
to be very lovely. I have this great iris from Cyprus,
but as yet it has not flowered with me. Squalens I
do not admire. This fact, however, it has survived,
and is very often to be met with.

Perhaps the most popular group of all these irises is
that of the Pallidae. To them belongs the favourite
Florentina — precious above ground for its snowy
beauties, touched with the least possible trace of
pearl-blue upon the fall ; and below ground for those
plump rhizomes from which the fragrant powder of
orris is manufactured. Desfontaines found it in
Algiers on graves; and I met with the pure white

THE IRIS 165

variety of Florentina, named albicans, in a similar
position round about Jaffa. There, wandering by
the seashore, I came upon a ruined Mussulman
cemetery, netted from end to end with acres
of irises. Crooked and shattered, the tombstones
stuck from their green expanse. The time was
January, and no flower showed; but I ventured to
remove a few rhizomes, and with the spring of the
following year they flowered freely. This is a lovely
iris of purest white ; though it has the yellow beard
of its class. A pigment called verdelis, or iris-green,
was made from the flowers of Florentina, but I know
not if artists use it nowadays.

Iris Swertii is perhaps the least often seen of this
group. In delicacy of colouring it resembles plicata,
but has a rosy tinge in the lavender tone peculiarly
its own. It stands two feet high and flowers freely.
The falls and standards are white, touched with
warm but delicate rosy-lavender along the petal edges.
The beard is yellow in the throat and white upon the
fall ; the style-arms take the colour intensified, and
are exceedingly beautiful of tint. The Pallid® are a
small and select party, but in the remaining varieties
of it, viz. plicata and pallida proper, much has been
done by hybridising. Pallida, the pale flag, was
known as the Dalmatian iris. The flower is large
and of a soft and beautiful lilac tending to blue. A
feature to reckon with is the shrivelled, dried-up
spathe-valves. These perish before flowering, and
when first I came as an innocent to gardening, I was
horrified to see a fine spike of pallida apparently dying

166 MY GARDEN

before my eyes. Soon, however, the great flowers
laughed out of their withered wrappings, and I learned
what "scarious" meant. The foliage of this iris is
magnificent, and of a fine glaucous green. At home
it climbs the Atlas Mountains to the height of 7000
feet There are many fine hybrids, of which I have
two—" Queen of May " and " Celeste." The first is
nearer true pink than any iris I have seen ; the second
is a large and splendid flower of loveliest lavender.
With me this beautiful race does not blossom so
freely as many of their bearded kinsmen ; but when
once a flower-spike appears, it gives a most generous
display.

There remains plicata to mention. Mr. Lynch tells
us that this wonderful iris is only known in cultiva-
tion, and Sir Michael Foster suspects that it is a cross
between Iris sambucina and the last named. The
varieties are very beautiful, and " Madame Chereau "
is the best of them. She is white, with a regular
pattern of little parallel purple veins along the petal
edge of standard and fall. Sometimes these do not
go all round. " Gazelle " is another fine thing, and
very free-flowering. The markings are of a darker
shade of purple, and not arranged with the great
distinction of " Madame." The beards of these irises
are slightly touched with yellow, and the pollen is
white. I have one beautiful pale form, merely tinted
with colour, of which I do not know the name.

We may now devote a moment to the group known
as Variegatae. It embraces Cengialti, aphylla, lurida

THE IRIS 167

variegata proper and others, and I am not too well
off in them, though there are few finer sights in iris
circles than the spectacle of a hundred good heads
of variegata's barbaric gold and crimson displayed
under the sun. The standards and style-arms are a
fine, rich lemon yellow; the beard is also yellow,
and the fall white and most boldly veined with
crimson or crimson-brown. No iris has a more
striking system of venation. A few straight lines run
parallel from the tip of the beard to the lip of the
fall, and from them broad, bold curves of colour
bend away to right and left, overrun the petal, and
merge into a mass along its lower edge. Great frag-
rance is a virtue of this noble iris, and there are many
fine-named garden forms of it. Not a few of these
are even more striking than the type. You should
secure u Gracchus," " Rigolette," and " Malvina "—the
last a beautiful thing with orange-coloured standards
and falls veined and splashed with sepia. Variegata
is a common wilding in mid-Europe.

Iris lurida is not a favourite of mine, but bena-
cencis, which I do not know, must be a lovely addition
to the group.

So much for irises. I have not mentioned half the
known varieties of these precious plants ; but if your
enthusiasm wakens, it is well. Then I shall feel that
we have not dawdled for three chapters with the
rainbow-flower in vain.

CHAPTER XII

THE POND

I lately read a rather remarkable gardening book,
and the impressions that it has left on my mind are
high bamboos and still higher moral principles. The
bamboos were photographed, the principles adorned
the letterpress. There were little bits of good gar-
dening let into the mass of the work, like precious
stones set in lead. We were entertained by endless
discussions on ethics, and the symposium was sup-
ported by an earnest clergyman and a well-meaning
but inefficient agnostic. Above them sat the author in
his character of Solomon. He spoke the magisterial
word and calmed the angry passions of the com-
batants. He was always right, and always pompous.
He must be a wonderful man, but perhaps lacking
enough sense of humour to keep his prodigious
intellect sweet These perfect people make me irre-
verent I long to say wild, improper things before
them, that they may be shocked and scared. I long
to see them faced with some everyday catastrophe —
say, a bad egg at breakfast. I would go far to watch
this bamboo owner running after his hat in a gale of
wind, and see if his ethic stood the strain. I expect
his bamboos catch his spirit, and wave with sublime

168

THE POND 169

airs over the local vegetation. One rather wishes they
would all flower, and so perish, and leave a gaping
void. Yet that is a wicked wish, and I should be the
first to regret it if the thing really happened.

We take ourselves too seriously ; our neighbours
not seriously enough. This I believe to be true
of life, and it is also true of gardens. Too often
I have felt scornful of other gardens, and too
often my neighbours have scoffed at mine. Behind
my back they call my compound a 'stuffy little
nursery/ and I speak of theirs lightly as howling
wildernesses. This is wrong and unkind. We must
give and take in visiting other people's gardens, and
try to see from the standpoint of the owners. The
motive is everything. Some men merely garden for
health. In that case, you must look at the gardener
rather than the garden, to see whether his end has
been attained.

If we are to be sane and contented and possible
company for our kind, a toy is necessary to each one
of us. A garden is a very good toy, and, as in the
case of sportsmen, one destroys nature's rarest and
most ferocious creations at the cost to himself of
perhaps fifty pounds a head, while another, quite as
keen, has to be content with an annual fortnight
among the partridges; so in gardening, one man
may play with everything that grows, and keep fifty
gardeners to look after them, while another is re-
duced to a window-garden up three flights of steps.

Most of our gardens lie between these extremes;
but if the thing were practicable I would plant pine-

170 MY GARDEN

turns for posterity, and do my gardening in the grand
manner. I would secure half a county, and plan
forests, lakes, islands in the lakes, and marble temples
to Ceres and Pomona on the islands. I would
emulate the princes of the ancient time, and my
garden should resemble those classic and stately
plantations of the past, wherein "noble spirits con-
tented not themselves with trees, but by the attend-
ance of aviaries, fishponds, and all variety of animals ;
they made their gardens the epitome of the earth, and
some resemblance of the secular shows of old."

One cannot cram the epitome of the earth into an
acre, but birds, beasts, and even reptiles occur in my
garden from time to time. The little pond is the
centre of fascination for most of them. Here the
human boy shall be found harassing the newts and
water-man beetles, and the human girl also appears,
to the discomfort of dragon-flies and dismay of
water-snails. My higher vertebrates are, however,
better treated under the chapter devoted to garden
pests.

Of respectable wild beasts the hedgehog occurs.
He goes his nightly rounds and, I think, does good
according to his lights. If we meet, as sometimes
happens, in the dusk, he salaams very respectfully,
bows his head down between his paws, and remains
motionless in that somewhat servile attitude until I
have passed by. Squirrels cross my garden constantly,
with that little undulating run of theirs; but they
do not stay, as I have nothing to offer them. Field-
mice, on the contrary, are very fond of half-hardy

THE POND 171

Cape bulbs — with a fondness different to mine. They
build their nests in the rockeries, and have to be
destroyed. Frogs, toads, and newts all increase and
multiply here and are encouraged ; and once I saw
a large grass-snake apparently regarding a water-lily,
but he poured himself away, like a little stream of
amber and silver, among my marsh irises and never
appeared again. Dogs enter, though not by invita-
tion. The large dogs stroll round in a gentlemanly
way and work no harm ; the smaller sorts do evil,
and tear and scratch and refuse to keep to the
paths. When discovered, they bark insolently to
hide their own uneasiness, and dash about over the
borders and lose their heads, and forget how they
got in. There is little use for a dog or a cat in
a garden, though a cat certainly occurs here. His
name is "Gaffer," and he is a brindled or tabbied
beast of courteous disposition but colourless character.
He does neither harm nor good. I have heard of him
that he once caught a young thrush, who was sitting
with his back turned waiting for his mother; but
even that is in the nature of legend.

We count the usual birds, but only a few have ever
called for any special admiration. A pair of missel-
thrushes, with very great judgment, built their nest in
a large araucaria imbricata. From this lofty point
they commanded the situation ; and to see them dash
out if any jay or jackdaw dared even to pass by, was
an amusing sight. With harsh invective they would
flash from their nest like brown arrows, and flicker
about the intruder and scream their indignation until

172 MY GARDEN

he was far away. Then they flew back, talked together
about the dreadful characters there are in the world,
cooled down gradually, and so returned to their
young. No watch-dogs were ever more energetic
or more fierce. Jackdaws fled before them, and
when they came down to the lawn for food, even
blackbirds, who hesitate not to send the ordinary
thrush about his business, raised no sort of argument
with them. They reared a brood of two, and the
party quickly disappeared.

Our champion visitor, however, was a kingfisher.
What possessed this distinguished fowl to visit us
I never could understand. I suppose that he knew
the place for a " resort," and fancied a change from
the seclusion of Dart or Teign rivers. He came in
December and stayed a fortnight. The goldfish held
indignation meetings — in deep water — but he caught
a good many, and they suited him well. To study
his methods was exceedingly instructive. He sat on
arundo donex at first, but it was not quite convenient,
and so I arranged a stick for him hanging over the
pond. From this point he enjoyed excellent sport.
Suddenly, like a gem falling, he would drop with a
splash and then return ashore — a young goldfish in
his beak. My daughter sided with the fish, while I
ranged myself beside the fisher. She hated death, as
the young will, with all her might, and told me that
it was a cruel and abominable thing that these fish,
in the security of their home, should thus be cut off
by a ferocious murderer. I explained that kingfishers
were much rarer and lovelier and more interesting

THE POND 173

than any gold carp whatsoever; 1 and I added that
we might get plenty more goldfish for twopence
each, whereas another kingfisher could hardly be
hoped for. She answered that to buy more gold-
fish might be all right from my point of view, but
would not prove the least comfort to those that the
bird had eaten, and very likely not much to those
he had left. This, in its small way, was true ; but I
dwelt on the laws of hospitality, explained that the
kingfisher must live, and also made it clear that life
for him inevitably meant death for something else.
In reply she argued that I had never asked the king-
fisher, that he came without an invitation, and that I
owed no obligation to anybody who broke this first
and simple law of society. To come and stop with
people unasked struck my daughter as the unpardon-
able sin. Indeed, she has not forgiven the kingfisher
unto this day. At the end of his fortnight he
went as he had come, sans ceremony. I hoped
when winter returned that he might pay me a second
visit, but he did not do so. Probably, when the
novelty has worn off, goldfish are a poor substitute
for trout.

As to the pond he honoured, it lies in a wide
semicircle and contains water-lilies — white, rose,
carmine, pink, and cream colour — each with a
wonderful jewel of wrought gold in her heart The
space admits of a small selection only, and where

1 Gold carp. This is open to dispute. The Japanese fancy caxpt are
as dainty and exquisite in their colours and Jairy-like shapes as anything
to be seen in Nature. They are, howerer, exc ee dingly tender.

174 MY GARDEN

circumstances limit one to six or eight, I would
venture to advise the following :

Nymphaea Marliacea Albida is a strong, very
free-flowering, water-lily of purest white with rich
green foliage. Few are hardier or handsomer. N.
Marliacea Carnea resembles Albida in every par-
ticular, but the outer petals are delicately touched
with pale rose. These two hybrids, raised by Mon-
sieur Latour-Marliac, may be heartily commended
for their strength and beauty. Next, I would suggest
that grand American water-lily, N. "James Brydon."
This came to me from Philadelphia, and immediately
set to work with true Yankee pluck and energy. It
is a gorgeous carmine-crimson, with a heart of red-
gold and very distinctive rounded petals. I keep it
in a little tank alone, for its vigour is gigantic. It
was in flower six weeks after its journey across the
Atlantic; and "William Doogue," another splendid
and massive pink water-lily raised in the United
States, came with it, and blossomed in two months
from planting.

I may say here that, in my experience, hardy
nymphaeas raised in America are stronger and
healthier and every way better than those to be
got in England or from France. This may seem
a bold thing to declare, but I have proved the fact
to my own satisfaction — not only with the two lilies
above named, which are, perhaps, unusually vigorous
hybrids, but also with other familiar species, such
as the little dainty N. tetragona H el vol a and the
great familiar N. odorata. These things have all

THE POND 175

surprised me in their first season by the vigour of
their growth. It may of course be the sea-voyage,
but I rather think Mr. Henry A. Dreer, of Chestnut
Street, Philadelphia, U.S.A., would not agree with
me. At any rate, in justice to the finest and most
successful grower of all aquatics that I know, he
must be named here ; and I strongly advise those
who want grand water-lilies to seek his catalogue.

Nymphaea Laydekeri purpurata is a very free-
flowering French hybrid of dazzling carmine or rosy
crimson with a golden centre. I note a curious
fact about it. The first flowers, which come abund-
antly in early May with me, are of a shade quite
different to those that follow. They appear the
tenderest pink, and suggest something quite fragile
and tropical of the lotus type; then, as the season
advances, their character changes. This is a hardy
water-lily, and you should not be without it. Another
less vigorous plant, of a different pink tending to
rosy vermilion rather than carmine, is the beautiful
N. lucida, with large star-shaped flowers and foliage
mottled purple-bronze. N. Odorata Caroliniana is
also a true salmon-pink.

Of yellow water-lilies I have but two, the dainty
little N. tetragona Helvola, already named, and the
large N. Odorata Sulphurea. They are of the same
colour — a pale sulphur yellow. The first is too small
in all its parts to hold its own among the big species,
and should have a little tank to itself with that white
pearl, N. tetragona (or Pygmaea), as a companion.
N. Sulphurea is hardy, and of large size and most

176 MY GARDEN

delicate and beautiful colouring. It flowers on into
October with me. I have yet to grow a real bright
yellow water-lily. Perhaps N. chrysantha would meet
the case, or the apricot-tinted " Aurora."

I only mention these, because my very small ex-
perience does not extend beyond them; but all are
good, hearty things with fine constitutions.

Of other aquatics which float or stand anchored
among my water-lilies, I may mention the frog-bit
— hydrocharis morsus ranae ; menyanthes trifoliate —
the buck-bean — loveliest of native flowers; and
villarsia nymphaeoides — a very beautiful yellow
blossom, fringed somewhat like the buck -bean,
and rising three inches above its flat, heart-shaped
leaves. Elsewhere, orontium aquaticum, or golden
club, prospers and spreads foliage of the most
lovely mingled greens upon the pond. From these
spring his brilliant but trifling yellow flower-spikes
in June. Myriophyllum spicatum pursues its un-
eventful way, for the most part submerged; and
potamogeton crispus, I regret to say, is still with
me, although I have tried for three years to expel
him. In a weak moment, attracted by his beauty,
I gathered a strong runner or two and made him
free of my pond. But he abused this kindness, and
now I pull out many yards of him every year, yet
cannot eradicate his crimped purple streamers.
Another hardy Briton — stratiotes aloides, the water
soldier — fired by the example of potamogeton, pre-
pared to emulate him and fill my long-suffering
puddle from end to end; but I dealt with him in

SPIRJEA CIGANTEA

THE POND 177

time, and he has vanished. Anacharis alsinastrum
from Canada must also be avoided. It will speedily
become a pest, and give pleasure to nothing but your
water-snails. Of other foreigners I have pontederia
cordata, which was sent to me by a friend from
America. One cannot look a gift plant in the
flower, but the blue inflorescence of this pickerel
weed leaves me cold. It is an excellent thing — to
receive from a friend, but not to purchase. Thalia
dealbata is handsomer, though perhaps not so hardy.
Sagittaria variabilis is a beautiful aquatic, and increases
rather too rapidly with me. It thrusts its arrow-shaped
foliage and panicles of white-petalled, golden-anthered
flowers from two feet of water, or out of the mud at
the pond edge, indifferently. Sagittaria Montevidensis
is more beautiful still, but not so strong. This has
a dark crimson patch on each of the three petals.
Scirpus zabrina must go. He is handsome, but takes
up too much room; while eulalia zabrina in the
marsh hard by is choking my marsh irises, and will
also have to be despatched elsewhere. The various
meadow-sweets also under conditions of moisture
soon get out of hand. Observe Spiraea gigantea.
He comes from Siberia, but I doubt if he goes ten
feet high there. S. venusta, S. palmata, and S.
palmata elegans are all good. Astilbe rivularis must
be dragged off to a less luxurious position ; but A.
Davidi is worthy of a good place. Gillenia trifoliata,
too, prospers with the spiraeas. Of reed-maces, typha
angustifolia is mine. It prospers well, flowers freely,
and does not interfere with its neighbours over much,

178 MY GARDEN

though I pull out a good deal each autumn. Those
tiny and beautiful floating aquatics, azolla and salvinia,
are not hardy, and must be preserved and propagated
under glass, though they do well out of doors in
summer. From these to the mighty arundo donax *
is a far cry. The great reed does well in my marsh,
and increases steadily but has not flowered. Its
foliage rises above a large plant of caladium esculen-
tum, and the contrast between the glaucous green
of the reed and the mingled velvety tones of the
elephant's ear is very beautiful. Here also prosper
myrica gale, a native thing of delicious fragrance,
and various plants of mimulus, including M. cuprea.
The slipper flower grows here too; and there were
true lilies once — canadense and superbum — but they
have departed for the moment.

I have grown most known lilies in my time, but
of late the iris has occupied my first affection, and
lilies are just now very low with me. I get an

1 Arundo Donax. Humboldt marks three stages of civilisation by the
use men make of the Great Reed. First, in the days of palaeolithic man,
it serves for the spear-haft and the shaft of arrows ; next, the pastoral age
saw shepherds playing on the pipe of Pan ; while thirdly, when agriculture
came to be understood and developed, the great reed made baskets for the
fruits of the earth, and trellises for growing of vine and gourd. A fourth
use, higher than all these, belongs to our own arundo pragmites. Not
only for warfare, musk, agriculture, and thatching did the early men
employ arundo. It was busy at the dawn of books, and the first pens
used by our forefathers were cut from it Merlin wrote his verses with
the reed; Gildas, father of all British history, assaulted the Saxon
invaders of his country with such a weapon; though the pen was not
mightier than the sword in the sixth century. When I see an FwgKA
reed-rond, mark the purple feathers swaying, and hear the silky, sleepy
music of a thousand blades caressed by the wind and each other, I always
think of the first Saxon pen and the learned clerk sharpening it.

THE POND 179

annual box of L. auratum at one of the famous
autumn auction sales of Mr. Stevens. For a modest
sovereign or so one can replenish the garden with
this absolutely necessary lily. I have never really
established it, and will not pretend to a success I
covet. Auratum always deteriorates with me in my
peat-beds. Auratum rubro vittatum and A. platy-
phyllum are, however, at once hardier and grander
than the type. The unspotted A. Wittei is very
beautiful also. A. virginale is not unspotted, as the
name implies. My favourite lily continues to be
L. giganteum; but this year, though I particularly
wanted a good bloom-spike for my book, only one
appeared from the bed, and that but small. Other
lily disasters also overtook me. I had a grand L.
Henryi coming on with no less than twenty-five fine
buds on the spike. Never did I see such a promis-
ing thing ; but for some reason, hidden from me,
Nature lost her temper on the night of August 3rd,
and blew a whole gale out of the south-west The
havoc was terrific, and among the many sufferers
I found L. Henryi with his head off and his year's
work rendered futile. I grow hydrangeas on stan-
dards, and poor paniculata was stricken hip and
thigh. Great trusses of snowy bloom lay scattered
all over the garden.

So much has been said about the lily, and such
wisdom uttered by professional gardeners, that it
would be vanity for me to add any word. To
name but one: Miss Jekyll's lovely book cannot
have escaped you. My favourites, after L. gigan-

180 MY GARDEN

teum, are L. Sulphureum, his neighbour from the
Himalayas— a very glorious flower when prosperous ;
L. Japonicum Colchesterense ; L. auratum Wittei ; L.
Brownii ; L. Thunbergianum " Van Houttei " ; L. Um-
bellatum " Cloth of Gold " ; L. Pardalinum— the type ;
L. Speciosum Album " Kraetzeri " — stronger and more
beautiful than the type; L. Rubellum; L. Krameri;
L. Colchicum (Szovitsianum) ; L. Batemanniae; L.
candidum; L. Washingtonianum — a very beautiful
fragrant lily, with white, purple-spotted petals that
fade to pink; L. testaceum, the sweet, nankeen-
coloured, natural hybrid between candidum and a
scarlet martagon ; and L. martagon album.

Among new lilies, I care not for any of the
gardener's hybrids, unless it be "Marhan"; but L.
Bakerianum, a species from Burma, is very beautiful.
She has most delicate yellow petals tinged with green,
spotted with purple, and of a lovely shape.

Start with this little bunch and you will inevitably
proceed to the rest. The late Dr. Wallace's hand-
book on lilies taught me a great deal about them.
It is full of practical advice collected by that famous
horticulturist.

Another good English plant used to grow beside
my pond, but I have lost it now. This is butomus
umbellatus, the marsh gladiolus, as it is called for
some obscure reason. It should be planted in mud
to prosper, and under those circumstances opens
its clusters of pink flowers during late June. My
best plants were found in a west-country marsh
by my son, and did better than all others.

ULIUM SPECIOSUM ALBUM '-KRAETZERI."

THE POND 181

Of moist peat-lovers I have not as yet got a
collection worth mentioning. Such things as mer-
tensia, cimicifuga — the snake root, xerophyllum seti-
folium, gaultherias, adiantum pedatum, galax aphylla,
Sarracenia flava, shortia galacifolia, tiarella, swertia
perennis — with mysterious blue-black flowers, and a
few others occur ; but I lack the stately and impor-
tant things — the varieties of pieris, for instance,
a good collection of heaths, and the many fine
American swamp or moisture loving shrubs now
successfully grown in this country. My rhododen-
drons do well in peat, but the local soil is death
to them, and they must not even know that it is
near.

Lobelia fulgens makes a splendid show in peat, and
the varieties of meconopsis — Wallichi and Nepal en-
sis — like a similar spot Other plants that I possess
are gunnera scabra — with a respectful allowance
of space for his great achievements — podophyllum
peltatum, and p. emodi; rheum emodi and megasea
cordifolia. Phormium and solidago rear their heads
hard by, and the huge acanthus latifolius also finds
a corner. Rodgersia podophylla for some reason
sulks; but ferula gigantea — a giant fennel — and
heracleum giganteum have established themselves
to great advantage. Of course you want far more
room than I have got for these things — still, they
shall be found, and nobody can honestly say I
crowd them or let them crowd their betters. But
they should have a riverside or the bank of a large
sheet of water to show most of them in real

i82 MY GARDEN

splendour. Give me plenty of mud in the eye of
the sun, and I will grow a jungle of herbaceous
monsters that shall amaze you.

The greatest treasure beside my pond is a hardy
tree-fern from Australia. It prospers, and asks
only for a little protection for stem and crown
at times of actual frost. Another fern almost
hardy in a snug corner is asplenium nidus avus,
the bird's nest. This also came from Australia ;
and a third grand plant, that rare amaryllid, dory-
anthes excelsa of the scarlet plume, was of their
party. This winters within doors, and to lose any
of these things would be a sorrow.

From my dear brother they came — one who knew
plants better than I. His great spirit could not abide
the limits of a garden. The world was his garden,
and he roamed to the uttermost parts of it, and
beheld the beauty of nature and the wonder of
many growing things. He lived his life against
Nature's own wild heart, did man's appointed work,
and passed in peace beside the broad Zambesi. Of
the race of the pioneers, of the tribe of Thoreau
was he, yet of a larger soul and more human than
Thoreau. All men that knew him found their spirits
leap to him ; and many lonely hearts in lonely places
mourned when they heard that he had gone. May
the savage earth he loved lie light upon him and lift
eternal flowers above his tomb ; may the fierce sun-
shine that was his life, pierce the equator's bosom
and for ever warm his precious dust.

CHAPTER XIII

THE RED ROCKERY

I have sometimes dared to doubt if Adam was quite
the gardener we are accustomed to suppose. A con-
siderable antiquity has thrown some haze over the
actual facts, and one would be the last to dispel it ;
but consider his disadvantages, and ask yourself what
you would have felt if brought suddenly face to face
with the six thousand genera. Two words must
instantly have leapt to your lips : " Bentham " and
u Hooker." Then imagine your position on learning
that neither Bentham nor Hooker had arrived ; that
you were standing at the dim beginning of all things ;
that as yet no science of botany existed.

We have actually nothing named after Adam, except
" Adam's needle " ; and that should be called " Eve's
needle," because there can be no shadow of doubt
that it was the Mother of us all who deftly manu-
factured that first masonic garment from the leaves
of ficus. Note her immature judgment in the matter.
She had all the fine foliage plants of paradise to select
from ; Adam might have worn caladium esculentum,
or musa, for raiment; Eve might have donned the
autumn foliage of vitis Coignetiae, and trimmed it
with exquisite berries coloured ruby or sapphire, topaz

184 MY GARDEN

or amethyst. How delicious she would have looked,
with the tears in her lovely eyes, and her hair of spun
gold glittering down over those scarlet leaves ! Even
as a small boy I never liked much to consider the
cherubim with their flaming swords. Think of bully-
ing the first woman ! Picture her dewy loveliness
and her broken heart at the moment of expulsion
from the only home she had ever known. Why,
they ought to have tumbled over one another to
rush and comfort her ! No, the cherubim may have
had excellent qualities, but chivalry was not one of
them* As a reigning monarch is reported to have
said of another, so we may assert of the cherub : that
he is a very good fellow, but, unfortunately, not a
gentleman.

From a group of yuccas, which led to "Adam's
needle" and so to this reflection, we pass without
prolonged exercise to my red rockery. Here dwell
the things that love partial shade, and are happiest
when the sun is veiled from them. Having gazed
upon them at dawn, he swiftly passes by, and for
the rest of the twenty-four hours does not directly
regard them.

Three of the perennial poppy folk first occur to
me: stylophorum diphyllum, the two-leaved celandine
poppy; sanguinaria canadensis, the bloodroot; and
eomecon chionanthus, the cyclamen poppy. Of these,
the first has handsome foliage and a fine yellow
bloom; the second is a fairy thing, pure white,
and like a pigeon's egg in the bud. It opens into
a star, and springs singly above the glaucous leaf

I'OLEMQNWM CONFERTUM.
(Var-Mrtlitnm J

THE RED ROCKERY 185

that protects its infancy. This puccoon is a com-
mon weed in North America, and a mass of it
must be beautiful to see. Peat suits it ; but in peat
the cyclamen poppy disgraces itself, increases at an
enormous rate, and proves far too busy under-
ground to do anything worth mentioning above it.
The foliage is handsome, but not sufficiently so to
satisfy us without the flowers. Eomecon needs adver-
sity to make it bloom. Thermopsis, that lives with it,
also throws plenty of subterranean suckers; but its
fine, yellow, laburnum-like blossoms freely brighten
the shade. Physostegia is also here. An American
friend sent me half-a-dozen varieties. But I find
them not specially interesting. Virginiana is perhaps
the best. Helonias bullata has not been pleased with
his place, and his rosy flower-spike refuses to gladden
me. Perhaps since " helos," a marsh, is the derivation
of his name, I do not give him all the moisture he
demands. I shall transfer him to a very damp spot
elsewhere, and hope to see him become prosperous
with ramondia pyrenaica, soldanella, and certain
primroses. Haberlea, from Mount Rhodope, calls
for similar treatment. It is a pretty thing, but seldom
seen, though it reached this country five-and-twenty
years ago. Asarum europaeum, of course, does well.
This asarabacca is not decorative, but his chocolate
bloom has interest. Triosteum perfoliatum is another
plant that excites no enthusiasm. The horse gentian
it is called, also the feverwort. The flowers are a
thought dingy, perhaps, but there is nothing obtrusive
or assertive about them. Lobelia syphilitica next

186 MY GARDEN

occurs, and I much admire its rich blended shades
of blue and purple. There is a hybrid between this
and a scarlet lobelia which reached me from some-
where. The colour is a blend of blue and red, yet
agreeable; the shape is that of L. fulgens. Lobelia
tenuior does well with me in the summer, but this
delicate and dainty white-eyed beauty should have
a snug spot for her display. Bigelovia graveolens
resembles aster linosyris, but is not so handsome;
and next to him come two of the polemonium
family : Richardsonii and that very beautiful and
precious gem, confertum, var. mellitum. This new
and rare thing is worthy of great admiration, and
soon no September garden will be called really com-
plete without it. It was a glad day when the Rocky
Mountains yielded this treasure. A picture will better
bring it to you than can I, but note that the blossom
is pure white. 1 Many of the clan are good, but none
that I have met with so fair as this. P. Richardsonii,
by the way, is a synonym of P. humile ; yet it is by
no means a dwarf plant. Perhaps, however, a nur-
seryman sent me the wrong one. Too often have
such accidents overtaken us all. My plant is pale
blue with golden anthers, and stands near two feet
high. Homogyne alpina next catches my eye — a
little, modest soul, easily mistaken for some intru-
sive coltsfoot until seen in flower. It is one with
petasites alpina, but has no special charm except

1 Coulter's manual of Rocky Mountain ^botany describes coralla
as pale blue, or sometimes white, and tells us that P. confertum
mellitum grows with the type in Colorado, Wyoming, and Utah.

THE RED ROCKERY 187

amiability. Tussilago fragrans, by the way, is a hedge
weed in this district, and one will often find the sweet,
may -scented thing flowering during January and
February, far from habitations.

Saxifrages, thymes, and aubretias now help to hide
my red rockery ; then a few primroses appear. My
stock of these is mean, and must be replenished. I
best love the pure, drooping lemon bells of sikki-
mensis, and next to her would choose P. rosea — a
flower of delicious and brilliant pink. The gigantic
P. japonica, with its crimson scapes of bloom, is also
splendid ; while of alpines, P. marginata from Switzer-
land and viscosa from the Pyrenees are both kindly
growers and very handsome. The tiny P. Forbesii
prospers with me in my red rockery, but needs pro-
tection from vermin. Its little dancing flowers, of a
rosy lilac, win very general admiration, and appear
for nine months in the year. I have often been
tempted to try P. floribunda out of doors also, but
it makes such a magnificent pot plant that I am
refused the experiment. P. farinosa, the sweet, small,
bird's-eye primrose, came to me from a kind cousin
in Yorkshire, and has consented to settle beside
ramondia. Cortusa Matthioli grandiflora is a beautiful
being of the primrose order. The colour approaches
rather fearfully near magenta; but its habit is fine,
and it occupies a post of honour. Mr. A. W. Bennett,
in his splendid "Flora of the Alps," figures a cor-
tusa of a pure, pale rose-red. But I fear he would
be the first to say that his printer, and not nature, is
responsible for this attractive hue.

188 MY GARDEN

Cornus canadensis and the pure white Pennsyl-
vanian wood-anemone are fighting for mastery here,
and cornus is being beaten. I must take this little
dainty dogwood away and give him a place to
develop at ease. The anemone is a swift grower,
and has all the energy and determination to succeed
that marks so many plants I get from America. You
may know it and grow it as A. dichotoma. Wald-
steinia follows, with trefoil leaves and bright yellow
flowers, like a potentilla. Next one of my favourites
may be met with. From a dewy dingle beside Dart
I took her, and without a murmur she left that haunt
of beauty — herself not the least lovely thing, though
quite the tiniest, in that scene of flower and song,
glittering waters and green leaves. Sibthorpia
europaea, the Cornish moneywort, is rather a rare
British plant Professor Nicholson would not have
called it " more curious than beautiful " had he seen
its fairy-like loveliness spread at the footstools of the
great king-fern by river's brink, whence I brought my
specimen. It prospers well in a cool, damp spot;
but its cousin, S. peregrina, from Madeira, must have
a cold frame. A white phyteuma from the Tyrol is
here also, and campanulas do well along with it. C.
garganica and C. turbinata have to be pushed aside in
September for the upspringing blossoms of colchicums.

Pratia repens, a little gem from the Falkland Islands,
both flowers and fruits freely. It spreads fast, and
after being covered with pure white, lobelia-like
flowers, the herb produces pale purple berries of a very
ornamental character. Above it dwells that strange.

THE RED ROCKERY 189

coffee-scented bell-flower, codonopsis ovate, or glos-
socomia, if you prefer the name. The blossoms are
pale slate-blue, with an arrangement of orange and
black in the bottom of their chalices. Armerias and
hepaticas come next, and call for no particular men-
tion ; but the little dicentra cucullaria, or Dutchman's
breeches, demands censure for continually disappoint-
ing me. It develops abundant foliage, but, unlike
most of my American plants, is coy of flowering.
Trientalis europaea, a rare British plant, I much
admire. The little mite hangs out white stars from
among its leaves, and makes a pretty miniature on
the red rockery in June. Very small willow herbs
follow. At Kew I took a downy seed from one that
occurs in the superb rock-garden there. The seed
was doing nothing in particular, and would have
blown away to some other London suburb without
a doubt if I had left it. Therefore I put it in my
pocket-book. I hope no fearful penalties will over-
take this confession. At any rate, the mite does well,
and I can return Kew a hundred seeds for their one,
if called upon to do so. Salix herbacea is not a
willow-tree on which you could hang your harp, or
even your hat, for it only rises to an elevation of an
inch and a half. Beside it a real good mat of silene
acaulis flourishes, and its lovely green is starred in
spring with innumerable brilliant, rosy blossoms.
Some wet winter will doubtless destroy it. The only
hope is to plant perpendicularly. Loiseleuria pro-
cumbens, from Ben Lomond, has not taken the
change too kindly, and I fear designs to die. It is

190 MY GARDEN

a pleasant little creature, with many synonyms ; but
should be known after its godfather, the famous
French botanist, Loiseleur Deslongchamps. Hard by
trails linnaea borealis, the plant the immortal Linnaeus
selected for his own. With characteristic modesty
he chose this tiny thing, to make for ever precious
its humble habit and twin rosy flowers upspringing,
pendulous and sweet There is no pleasanter Alpine
atom than this, and the least rockery should have it,
for honour to that mighty name it bears. The little
thing haunts a few habitats in northern England and
Scotland; but it is rare and local in the United
Kingdom.

A dwarf funkia, whose name I know not, spreads
variegated leaves hard by; then coptis occidentals
occurs — a pretty little, moisture-loving soul of the
ranunculus order from the Rocky Mountains. The
flower is white, and comes in threes ; the leaves are
also trifoliate. The cut foliage and merry yellow
eyes of morisia hypogaea dwell next. It is an alpine
found by Professor Moris on the mountains of
Sardinia, and introduced — as Mr. Robinson tells us in
his grand " English Flower Garden " — by Mrs. Palliser
from the Valentino Botanic Gardens at Turin. The
plant is hardy, and makes a cheerful show in May.

Various bulbs may be passed over, but certain
masses of variegated nepeta are worth mentioning.
The plant is often seen as a fringe to the front of the
conservatory stage, and looks handsome so ; but it is
hardy, and will serve for a beautiful covering to steep
spots in the rockery.

THE RED ROCKERY 191

Gentiana Andrewsi is a fine thing, and young plants
are already flowering, though far short of full size;
while, hard by, claytonia perfoliata, a little purslane,
prospers and spreads shining leaves and scatters
racemes of pink flowers in prodigal profusion. Saxi-
fraga Burseriana — the old form — does fairly well in
clumps at hand ; but I know where it may be seen
to better advantage, and rather think it prefers lime-
stone to sandstone.

Isophyrum thalictroides is a pleasant miniature
plant, with fern-like foliage and sprightly white
flowers lifted above it This flower enjoys the cool
shade of my red rockery; but mitchella repens, a
dainty dwarf sent long ago to Linnaeus by Dr.
Mitchell of Virginia, fails as yet to earn applause.
It proceeds heartily about its business, but no little
fragrant blossom has peeped forth to win attention.
The leaves and habit, however, are pleasant to see.
Ourisia coccinea, called after Governor Ouris of the
Falkland Islands, is one of a considerable family of
ourisias that flourish in New Zealand and Tasmania.
They have kin dwelling in the Antarctic regions of
South America and the Andes. O. coccinea comes
from the Andes of Chili. He arrived in England a
year before I did. We are both still practically un-
known ; but fame has no charm for either of us, and
we creep about the surface of the earth and mind our
own business in a very contented manner. Ourisia
insists upon a moist soil and plenty of shade— differ-
ing utterly from me in respect of these predilections.
His scarlet flowers are good, and foliage handsome.

192 MY GARDEN

Nierembergia rivularis, from La Plata, wanders with
the last plant and enjoys similar conditions. Other
nierembergias are more beautiful, but I have only
this variety with white, yellow-eyed bells. There is
no better surface plant for a cool corner, but slugs
will go on long pilgrimages to come at it. The lilac
nierembergia of Veitch must be a fine thing, but I
know it not. Galax aphylla is here too, and flowers
well in spring-time with gaultheria Shallon, whose
bloom is like his grand relation the arbutus, and
whose purple berries are said to make excellent tarts.
It may be so, but my solitary specimen, with all the
will in the world, cannot produce harvests large
enough for such a considerable experiment.

An interesting plant, quite out of place, has grown
alongside galax this year and made a large shrub.
This is lopezia racemosa, so familiar to those who
visit the Riviera. I take cuttings and keep the
lopezia, for winter slays it presently. In a pot
it flowers freely during the spring. "To the philo-
sophic mind, not captivated with mere show, the
flowers of this plant/' says Curtis, "will afford a
most delicious treat." Rather more than a hundred
years ago it arrived at the Apothecaries' Garden,
Chelsea, from Mexico through Madrid. To the
botanist it presents a fascinating theme for inquiry ;
while the flower-lover sees bright, rose-coloured
racemes of cheerful inflorescence above good green
leaves of the habit somewhat of enchanter's night-
shade. But lopezia is really not of much use out of
doors with me, though in full sun I think it would

THE RED ROCKERY 193

do better. A great cerinthe, or honeywort, springs up
annually here too. I cannot remember whence it
came, but I think, dear Mrs. Kent, that I have to
thank you for this very handsome plant All who
see it cry out for a seedling, and such is the cerinthe's
generosity that all can be supplied.

Certain evening primroses next roam about and fall
over a shelf of rock. The beautiful lemon Oenothera
macrocarpa mingles with O. taraxacif olia, the dandelion-
leaved species from Chili, and both do well enough.
Geraniums and ferns lead me to eriogonum umbella-
tum, a little herbaceous perennial with yellow flowers
from the North-West of America, and next to him
comes calophaca wolgarica, a Siberian, pea-flowered
plant that is usually grafted on laburnum. Mine
has not thus far distinguished itself, and I have yet
to see the blossom. It is praised for its fine flowers
and subsequent red seed-pods. Rubus xanthocarpus
hangs over this steep part of the rockery. It belongs
to North China, and has white flowers and yellow
fruits. Another beautiful plant is here : anemonopsis
macrophylla, from Japan. It has small drooping
white blossoms faintly touched with purple.

One may mark also an andromeda, antirrhinum
asarina, biscutella laevigata, callixene polyphylla, the
fragrant cedronella, dalibarda repens, dodecatheons
of various sorts, a dianthus or two, that hate the
shade and ought not to be here, and more saxifrages.
I wish I could write a chapter about these last alone,
but there is no room to do so.

About a flight of rough steps that now occur are

194 MY GARDEN

various plants of no particular account, such as the
handsome common form of wahlenbergia, the mean
and useless vincetoxicum, tropaeolum tuberosum, the
Peruvian nasturtium, and some Wichuraiana roses
— though why these have taken Wichuray's name
instead of the far pleasanter one of Luciae, after
Madame Lucie Savatier, I do not learn. They come
originally from Japan and China, and are very
beautiful, late-flowering toys for steps, pillar, or
pergola.

But you will observe that I make no serious mention
of roses in this book. They are with us to the number
of a few hundred plants : hybrid perpetuals, teas,
hybrid teas, and climbers; but, as I feel concern-
ing lilies before the work of Dr. Wallace or Miss
Jekyll, so, when roses are the matter, the august
names of Paul, Hole, and Foster-Melliar rise to the
mind. There is another sufficient reason why one
should be silent : I am not a rosarian in any real
sense, and have never so much as cut or budded a
stock. But I am inventing a scheme by which it
may be possible to get more than twenty-four hours
into the day. If this plan becomes perfected and
published to the world, then we shall all bud our
own roses, and may even find time to chronicle our
experiences.

Speaking of the late Dean Hole, I am reminded
that in one of his fragrant volumes he has quoted
from an ancient jest-book put upon the world long
since by myself. The author, they tell me, was forgot
when the story came to be repeated; and therefore

THE RED ROCKERY 195

I may be pardoned for claiming my lost child again
and placing him, for protection, within the covers of
his parent's book. Did a section on vegetables occur,
he would belong to that, but, since the scope of this
work precludes such a thing, the tale may creep in
here.

It has to do simply with salads and a station-master,
and it is the sort of nonsense we write when we are
young and irresponsible, without any literary char-
acter to lose.

He was a serious-minded man ; his name was
Jinks; and he lorded it over a little station on the
South-Eastern Railway in Kent. There he did
immense good, converting engine-drivers and guards,
and even bringing an occasional director to see his
many faults. He had a strip of garden which ran along
near the main line, and he employed it to proclaim
and publish great moral truths, so that the thoughtless
might be improved and the thoughtful edified as they
rolled by. In the early part of the year one would
always look for virtuous maxims from that garden,
and lofty ideas. During a certain April I recollect
Jinks had " Little children, love one another " worked
out in cos lettice; while the following year he
arranged "Watch and pray" in spring onions; and
very beautiful and affecting it was. At my sugges-
tion he did " Patience is a virtue " with a scheme of
beetroot, and not only did it look well, but was
considered a very proper precept to impress upon
travellers by that lethargic line.

Jinks told me in confidence one winter that he

196 MY GARDEN

proposed eclipsing all former efforts in his garden
during the coming spring. He was going, he said,
to advertise the fact that "God is Love" in letters
six feet long, composed entirely of early spinach. I
praised this thought highly, and declared the idea
was worthy of him. The time came, and every eye
was turned to the bank whereon the station-master
made his annual effort. Presently from the earth
began to sprout pale leaves, and day followed day,
and the legend grew, yet in no manner suggested the
words that we had been led to expect. Finally dastard
deeds blazed forth, and a great truth, quite different
to that intended, burst from the teeming earth. It
was merely this :

"Jinks is a silly Ass."

The malice of the act, of course, lay in the vegetable
selected, for this crime had been committed with
horse-radishes, and by the time that its victim grasped
the fact, and set to work madly to grub them up, these
coarse herbs had proceeded after their kind, and
acquired a grip of the soil that earthquakes might
hardly have unsettled. Jinks did all he could; he
pretended to laugh at it, and kept telling people that
he had forgotten all about it ; he ploughed the land,
and planted it with potatoes; yet each succeeding
spring saw that virulent and malignant stuff struggle
up again to scream out, as it were, to every train in
the time-table, that Jinks lacked intelligence. His
spirit failed at last, and he took his life. He wandered
down the line one day at a time when an express

THE RED ROCKERY 197

was slightly overdue. He crept out of sight into a
secluded cutting ; laid his head upon the cold metals ;
waited with the patience of despair ; and ultimately —
starved to death there.

This, however, is a flagrant digression. To return
to alpines, when a gardener has immensely added to
your pleasure and is still not weary of well-doing,
one must name him to the world, and refer other
people to him, that they too may win some of the
delight that he dispenses. In this case, two famous
gardeners command my admiration, and I advise
all who want strong, well-grown, and exceedingly
low-priced alpine plants to go to Messrs. Stansfield
Brothers of Southport for them. They supply an
immense variety of rare and beautiful things; their
quality is of the best, and in the matter of saxifrages
and wonderful treasures from the Pyrenees and Rocky
Mountains, they stand alone; as they do in the
remarkable moderation of their prices.

CHAPTER XIV

OF MANY THINGS

If the fittest only survive in Nature — and who doubts
it? — then surely your green-fly is about the fittest
thing that ever made glad the glowing bosom of June*
Herr Thiele has set it down that the green-fly can be
destroyed in eighty different ways ; but the immortal
creature laughs at death. You may clean a rose tree
absolutely, walk round your garden, and then return,
to find grandfather green-flies awaiting you. Their
lives are short, but they get an immense deal into
them. Passionate love of offspring is their greatest
virtue. I suppose that a childless green-fly would be
a thing new to science.

I had hoped to discuss this and other such like
plagues at length ; but, after all, how little else
matters in a garden if you have children there !
Lesser scourges sink to absolute insignificance when
weighed against them.

Prime of garden pests is the human boy. In the
pupa stage this creature evadeth every lure, and
causeth much anguish of mind within the confines
of cultivated ground. He hath no eye to distinguish
between the grass plat and the garden knot, but
trampleth indifferently upon either, and loveth best

OF MANY THINGS 199

to frisk over soil wherein rare and curious seeds are
germinating. Glass hath an affinity or attraction for
him, and when he breaketh the same, he lifteth up his
voice shrilly in merriment; but maketh still louder
sounds to indicate anguish, when captured and
chastened. At the season of Spring he haunteth
shrubberies, and leapeth out upon the innocent
traveller with horrid, inarticulate sounds. The ear
may mark his unseen progress through plantations
by the snapping of green boughs and by the outcry
of parent birds. Occasionally, in his efforts to secure
the nurseries of fowl upon lofty trees or precipices,
he falleth and breaketh his neck ; but this seldom
happeneth, because he hath a feline plenitude of
lives, and, in the art of self-preservation, is ever very
nimble, discreet, and unscrupulous. During the
autumnal months he affecteth the place of fruit, and
by strategy may there be taken at any time in the day
with full pockets and full cheeks. He hath no special
taste in fruits, but devoureth with the impartial pro-
fusion of the caterpillar and canker worm. The birds
of the air surpass him by their wise patience, for
they know to an hour when the perfection of plum or
pear has come ; but not so he.

The human girl in lesser sort partaketh with the
boy, but, separated from him, doth venture upon a
humbler flight, and confines her trespass within
more reasoned limits. She weareth short petticoats,
and hath long legs cased in black stockings. During
the grub stage she is exceedingly fleet of foot — so
much so, that the custodian of mature years may by

200 MY GARDEN

no means come at her single-handed. If harassed on
the open border she betaketh herself to trees, and,
from the boughs thereof, uttereth scorn of her
pursuers. As the boy, so she also courteth the
society of lesser vertebrates, and may oftentimes be
seen at twilight leading forth coneys, caveys, and
white rats to take their ease upon the borders when
the guardian of the same hath made an end of his
toil. For many years she persisteth in these ways,
yet a time shall arrive when her hair goeth up and
her frock cometh down. Thereupon she is translated
in the twinkling of an eye, and haunteth the garden
close no more.

Aristotle has affirmed concerning boys and girls that
they are prone to pity, an assertion that may with
deference be questioned; but he also saith that our
young ones do push everything to an excess ; and
this I hold to be indubitably true. There is no cure
for the human boy save time. Then, by exceeding
slow stages, he groweth into the adult organism, and
either turneth from his mysterious courses toward
justification of existence, or else, as too often hap-
peneth, doth wax in wickedness, as well as in the
power to perform it

There are other banes of the garden, and some
have been already mentioned, but, perhaps excepting
a garden party, none can compare with these de-
scribed. It was a hope of mine to devote a whole
chapter to the subject ; but here is the end of my
little book, while half a hundred matters still clamour
to be discussed. I was just getting into my stride, to

OF MANY THINGS 201

adopt an athletic metaphor. My note-books regard
me with reproach ; many growing things wave their
boughs to catch my eye ; the annuals are especially
disappointed that no place has been found for them.
I must write the Book of the Annual for Mr. John
Lane, if a better man has not already tackled that
great subject. For the present, to my sincere regret,
this large class of flowers cannot be discussed, though
I have rich memoranda concerning the more un-
common beauties amongst them.

Again, I was going to tell you things that I have
gleaned concerning the world cultivation of Mint ;
of mole crickets and their manners ; of pearls in
cocoa-nuts ; of M. Henri Theulier's experiments on the
germination of seeds by electricity ; and of much else
to be gleaned from the amazing journals of the Royal
Horticultural Society. You must, however, imme-
diately become a Fellow, if you regard the garden
as a serious part of life ; and I shall be proud to pro-
pose you. There is nothing like one of the Society's
lordly tomes for correcting our horticultural per-
spective, and teaching us how much there is to know,
and how ridiculously little we of the rank and file have
yet acquired. Then join at once. If not already a
Fellow of this king among Societies, take my hand
and suffer me to lead you to the Rev. W. Wilks, M.A.,
the famous Secretary. You may approach this grand
old gardener without fear. He will beam upon you,
welcome you as a brother or sister, and anon crown
you with the distinction of fellowship. Remember
also what you might achieve hereafter. As the field-

202 MY GARDEN

marshal's baton is in the private's knapsack, so the
least gardener amongst us may presently rise to fame
and to glory. There is no reason why even you
should not some day earn the magic letters, V.M.H.,
and become for the rest of your life one of the sixty-
three great gardeners who have achieved the Victoria
Medal of Honour. If, in your benighted ignorance,
you ask, " Why sixty-three ? " the answer is that this
number celebrates the full years of Queen Victoria's
glorious reign.

Glance with me once more into my garden as we
walk to the gate. Here is Fusi- Kin-Go, in many respects
the most interesting tree that can adorn any estate.
With me he is but an infant, ten feet high ; at Kew a
glorious specimen, fifty feet high and more, shakes
out its gigantic maiden-hair-like foliage nigh the great
conservatories. Gingko biloba was separated from
the conifers in 1852, and since that date has enjoyed
unique dignity. Its isolated position among existing
flora, its narrow geographical distribution, and its
terrific antiquity, make it a thing apart, crowned with
mystery and the hoar of* eld. It scarcely exists out of
cultivation, but is common as a sacred tree in the
gardens and temples of the Far East. Gingko's fossil
remains occur abundantly in Mesozoic and Tertiary
rocks; it follows, therefore, that the strange things
which flew in air aforetime were familiar with this
tree ; that the flying dragons of the prime rested in
his boughs. Without doubt the gay pterodactyl clung
to his branches and nibbled his fruit. One may also
imagine that strange feathered thing, where bird and

OF MANY THINGS 203

lizard blend — the archaeopteryx — sitting aloft and
raising the first crude attempts at bird music amid
the gingko's foliage ; while at its feet the maternal
dinosaur perhaps laid her gigantic eggs. 1 This
prehistoric tree may be yours for two shillings.
Can you hesitate ? If only for the sake of the im-
proving conversation arising from such a noble
spectacle, the plant should adorn every garden
capable of growing it.

Round this corner is a fig tree, and you will observe
that I have caged him in. This was done to pre-
vent countless birds from depriving us of the crop.
Until the thought of building for this tree a house of
galvanised wire occurred to me, we had no figs worth
mentioning ; now the thrushes, blackbirds, and star-
lings sit outside when the fruit is purple and say
harsh things; but we eat the figs. The idea of a
cage is, I have since found, far from new. Gilpin, in
his " Forest Scenery," tells us how that the deanery
garden of Winchester held a great and ancient fig
tree in 1757. Through a succession of deans this tree
was cased up and sheltered both from robbers and
from frost "The wall to which it was nailed was
adorned with many inscriptions in Hebrew, Greek,
and Latin, alluding to such passages of the sacred
writings as do honour to the fig tree. After having
been presented with several texts of Scripture, the
reader was informed by way of climax, that in the year
1623, King James I. tasted of the fruit of this fig tree

1 Laid her eggs. If she did lay them. Experts differ concerning
dinosaur's family arrangements.

2o 4 MY GARDEN

with great pleasure." That paltry rascal never de-
served to see respectable fruit or walk in an honest
dean's garden. Concerning figs, if you want a
botanical fairy story, endeavour to secure "The
Phenomena of Fertilization in Ficus Roxburghii,"
by Dr. D. D. Cunningham, F.R.S. It is a wonderful
piece, and I have felt inclined to take off my hat to a
fig tree ever since reading it.

From fig to Phytolacca is a jump, but this Virginian
poke-weed must be dragged in, because I have a
charming picture of him. The red ink plant — for
that is another alias — has mean, greenish inflorescence
and a big, coarse habit of growth ; but his charm lies
in the elongated clumps of shining, blackberry-like
fruit that ripen with September. It is a strange,
interesting, and hardy herb, but poisonous. It will
grow anywhere, in anything, and its fruit, mixed with
a few of the dazzling scarlet corals of Italian arum,
makes a very remarkable decoration. Veratrum
nigrum is another fine thing — far superior in dis-
tinction to V. album of the same family. Its spikes of
deep chocolate, touched with golden anthers, and the
magnificent, crimped, pleated leaves, produce a very
worthy specimen plant if due attention is paid to it
Bees and other insects seek the flowers with great
assiduity, and are always flocking about it and gather-
ing honey or pollen.

Speaking of decorative things, I designed a note
upon that ocular indigestion so often produced in
a conservatory by scattering instead of massing the
contents. The ingredients are mixed like a plum-

PHYTOLACCA DECANDRA.

READY FOR THE VASES— OCTOBER

OF MANY THINGS 205

pudding as a rule, but nothing can be less effective.
Take the usual spring show of cineraria, primula,
daffodil, deutzia, azalea mollis, and spiraea. Imagine
fifty pots of each all mingled; then separate them,
mass each after his kind, and see what an enormously
improved effect you have achieved. This may be
elementary, but how few regard it. Even such things
as acer and ferns, added for the sake of the foliage, I
would not muddle up with the flowers, but arrange in
groups behind or before them.
^/ As to cut flowers, a word may be uttered in all
humility. My opinion is valueless, but the lady of
the garden has ideas on this subject, and they are
worth considering. Never allow more than two sorts
together under any possible circumstance. Indeed, I
think the Japanese would not permit even two ; but
certain combinations are so magnificent, that two
may be conceded if the end justifies the blend. The
best effects seem to be won by combinations of light
and heavy blossom. Thus good star asters and
amaryllis belladonna go very beautifully together ;
cactus dahlias and cosmos, or eupatorium, are a
pleasant mixture if the colour is properly considered.
You want lightness and delicacy of form in the
smaller flower, richness of hue and dignity in the
larger. Sweet-peas and the finer varieties of heuchera
blend nobly; but, of course, you would have peas
each of one colour alone. To mix sweet-peas is a
relic of the past and not good. Keep them separate in
their colours. With roses you must put nothing but
their own leaves. Never mix roses. You always do,

206 MY GARDEN

of course, like nearly everybody else ; but try bowls
of the different sorts alone, and you will perceive the
force of this advice, A dinner-table of one rose
is a pleasant thing ; but adorn it with a dozen
varieties and you sink into the commonplace at once.
^ Never overdo the leaves in your vases. It is a relic
of mid-Victorian times, when we used maiden-hair
with everything and thought it lovely. I should like
to write a list of a hundred notable combinations
for you ; but it is improbable that you would value
them. You have your own ideas. Yet try some
good feathery chrysanthemum of medium size with
flowering eulalia zabrina. Mingle them deftly in a
large Munstead vase, and you cannot fail to be
pleased. And once more — my own favourite for
winter work. Pluck iris stylosa and pure white Christ-
mas roses ; deck your dinner-table richly, and people
of soul will give no thought to the baked meats.

Here then, at the gate of my garden, permit me to
take courteous leave — to bow you out, in fact. We
have spent overmuch time with my toy, and I ap-
preciate the compliment that you have paid me.
Yet you and I shall agree that no sensible man puts
away all childish things. Gardening may be per-
mitted as a recreation even to the sober-minded and
serious spirit. It is not an intellectual pursuit, but
it can be conducted in a very intelligent manner ; and,
as an occupation for the amateur, it holds its own
against games of skill, against sport, and even against
politics. A time indeed must come when a man's
ardour cools a little ; when his amusement is to put