THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

V>Kc*~o

MY NEW ZEALAND GARDEN

MY NEW ZEALAND GARDEN

BY

A SUFFOLK LADY

' The monarch oak, the patriarch of trees,
Rises three centuries by slow degrees.
Three centuries he grows, and three he stays
Supreme in stat«, and in three more decays.'

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON

ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
1905

SB

CHAPTER I

I HAVE no hesitation in making the avowal
that I am blest with the craze for gardening
— that solid, real, satisfactory occupation pointed
out to us from the very first — and having worked
like a Spartan at my parcel of ground for nearly
twenty years, reducing spades, wheelbarrows, and
such-like lady-sized gardening paraphernalia to
atoms, I am tempted to recount some of the freaks
of the plants, myself, and others, especially on this
nurtured and revered spot of bad subsoil — ' worse
than the riddlings o' the Creation,' as Sir Walter
Scott's gardener has it.

To dress and keep our gardens is undoubtedly
a Divine injunction not to be neglected, and it
behoves us, fin gratitude to the Creator, to keep
our plots in order. Moreover, it is a significant fact
that such gardens seem to belong to respectability,
for I am sure those who have lived among the
poor in England can bear testimony that, as a
rule, the tidy garden folk are the best at sending
their children to school, paying their rent, clean-

i

824253

My New Zealand Garden

liness and tidiness of person ; that they are more
congenial, healthy and thrifty, and that their
surroundings are more satisfactory; for their
small premises are rendered wholesome in that
all rubbish is turned to account, instead of being
allowed to collect in heaps and stagnant pools
outside their doors ; their minds become elevated
by the recreation, and their neighbours' peccadilloes
are neglected ; in fact, they are more healthy in
mind as well as body.

The smell of Mother Earth alone is a preventive
against disease, and I can remember a governess
of mine having to ride behind the plough for
several hours a day to inhale the odour, which,
above all other remedies, contributed towards her
recovery.

We ought to be as healthy here as material
circumstances can make us, surrounded as we are
by fresh sea-air on all sides ; but it devolves upon
us so to order our ways that we may draw down
upon us the promised blessing of Him Who made
it, and Who alone can ' keep our foot that it shall
not swell,' and ' prosper our basket and our store.'

In a land fanned by sea-breezes, with an atmo-
sphere unpolluted by a dense population, and
with the trammels of society greatly modified, all
these impart a feeling of rest and freedom compar-
able to the exchange of a town life for a country
one. I know of some broken-down systems who

My New Zealand Garden

have found their way here in search of health to
revive permanently — a fact which speaks highly
enough for our surroundings.

The wording of this little book will dispel any
idea of my being a purist. I am also afraid that
abruptness of style will be very apparent from
start to finish. I plead guilty, too, to dishing up
stale anecdotes to suit my purpose, and before
rushing into the account of my garden, I must ask
the reader kindly to excuse blunders in phraseology,
which will be frequent, and may, perhaps, even
equal in enormity the statement that ' The Captain
was enabled to save his ship, his own life, and his
wife — she carried a full cargo of cement.' The
generic and specific names of plants may often
assume the appearance of the cart before the
horse. I am, however, determined to let others
know the pleasure and mental profit which I
have derived from gardening, and also to give a
fair account of plants which flourish here, and the
beautiful trees and shrubs that can be grown.

I have spared no pains in hunting up scarce
things, and I feel somewhat like a retired sleuth-
hound, but I am amply repaid by their beauty
and growth, and the intense interest derived
thereby. Owing to the habit of finding out the
botanical names of all my plants, one or two
chapters are fraught with them enough to make
anyone but a gardener flinch.

I — 2

My New Zealand Garden

Of hired labour I have had but little. My first
gardener was not a success : his pinch of brains
forbad it. Being asked one day to mow some
rushes in a distant paddock, to make sure that he
might attack the right spot, we added, ' where you
see the white heifer.' He obeyed orders, the
result of his work being a zigzag and circuitous
track, for he had mowed wherever the heifer was,
having followed her all day, mowing behind her.

However, there are gardeners to be had, from
this sort up to those who can grow orchids well ;
but I would rather be in the struggle than be a
looker-on, and so do all except the heavy work
myself.

As a tonic for nerves, speaking from personal
experience, I may safely say that gardening has,
in my case, achieved its object. I have been
enabled to squash worries and discard doctors
thus far — in fact, my only dose of medicine in
twenty years I used to kill weeds. Without
further rigmarole, I will commence with Rock-
melons, which grew larger than I have ever seen
or heard of; some said that the bees had been
at them straight from the Pumpkins, but as the
flavour was perfect and the netting complete, I
turned a deaf ear to the thrusts of these wet-
blankets.

I sowed the seed in two rows, like peas across
the kitchen-garden. The ground first received a

My New Zealand Garden 5

good dressing of paddock manure — this means
free from straw, as the majority of horses spend
their spare time in the open air, the more fortunate
of them being clothed in winter with a rug of
sail-cloth lined with felt, which will resist rain for
twenty-four hours. It is not every summer that
Melons will rush ahead without let or hindrance,
but the summer that yielded my best crop was
such as Melons love, with warm showers and no
wind, and the result of this harvest was seventy
fine Melons, the heaviest weighing ten pounds. I
was so elated at my good success that I gave
them away right and left, as three or four ripened
every day. But I was not to escape a nasty
knock from an ungrateful recipient, the gardening
man, who said he had ' biled it well and it woan't
no better than the t'others,' and he gave me one
of his own home-grown Pumpkins to prove how
much' better his was when ' biled ' ; and so it was.
Had it not been for the bad subsoil, my labours
would have been a comparative sinecure, but the
battle against it has ended in victory for me, and
I really enjoyed the fight ; or, perhaps, speaking
more truthfully, chiefly looking on at it, for I
found Mother Subsoil too heavy to deal with,
much resembling yellow soap intermixed with
iron-stone. However, the happy consummation of
all that labour is the utter defeat of that bad
mixture ; and, whereas it was only 6 inches

6 My New Zealand Garden

below the surface when I first set eyes upon it, it
is now nowhere less than 2 feet, and in one
part quite 5 feet, below.

Layer upon layer of thick turfs have annually
been laid upon it, and in four successive winters
shrubs had ditches dug all round them and rails
poked under them, and so were levered up out of
their water-logged holes to receive another layer
of good soil beneath them. Of course, the question
arises, Why not have done it all in one winter ?
This is easily answered. The undertaking would
have been too gigantic for me, so it was gradually
accomplished by the one man that nobody who
keeps a horse, a cow, and a garden can do com-
fortably without. A certain amount of risk attended
these operations, but only a few shrubs succumbed
to them, though the water-logged holes and bad
soil proved extremely fatal to many, the most
lamented of them being a Jacaranda mimosifolia.
I was told that these splendid trees would not
flower for fifteen years, so I heartily wished to live
that time to see them. Imagine my surprise and
delight when I found my four-year-old, 4-foot-
high specimen making for flower ! It managed
one beautiful panicle of bloom, and then died
from want of root comforts. I know how it
struggled to live, for I knew what was going on
underground. I had planted it as a tiny plant,
in a tiny hole to fit it, but in spite of that it grew,

My New Zealand Garden

and the next year I determined to give it a better
bed. Afraid to disturb its precious roots, I dug a
ditch all round its former bed, and filled it with
choice soil, leaving an inpenetrable wall between
the old bed and the new ; but what with the effort
of flowering and trying to pierce the wall with its
roots, it gave up the ghost. But more about these
beautiful trees anon.

CHAPTER II

THE low-growing plants which in England
would almost be used for carpet-bedding
here grow rather higher and more straggling. I
planted eight beds of Lithospennum prostratwn,
7 feet by 5, being three-cornered in form, which in
spring are eight masses of gentian blue. I started
them by putting in cuttings i foot apart, filling in
between with other small growing subjects, Aubrie-
tias, etc., which were intended to flower whilst the
Lithospermums were growing and spreading. This
they did, and when I dragged out these stopgaps,
the Lithospermums were quite nice little plants,
and the following summer flowered well, touching
each other everywhere. The only alternative to
this plan of striking cuttings where they were to
grow would have been to have started them in
hundreds of tiny pots, which I could not have
looked after properly. Although hardy enough
to propagate in outdoor beds, still, some subjects
would not lift when struck, especially the Litho-
spermum, which is over-particular about its long

My New Zealand Garden

wiry roots ; but perhaps in the hands of a trained
gardener they might have proved themselves
amenable to such treatment. There are twenty of
these beds, and the other twelve contain Saponaria
ocymoides, Phlox subulata, Phlox Nehonii, Campanula
rotundifolia, Echeverias, double White Violets,
Henchera sanguinea, Rock Arabis, Dwarf Pinks, and
last, and greatest, not least, Crassula coccinea, the
vivid effect of which was startling. Every piece
grew, and as they were put in 6 inches apart,
their flowers touched each other and became a
platform of dazzling colour, throwing all its
brother beds into the shade. These beds have no
grass round them, but gravel, and — oh horror!
shall I confess it at all ? — red bricks to separate
paths from beds ; these bricks were stood on their
ends with their lower halves in the ground.
Well, whatever faults may attach to such a gaudy
garden, it possesses the counteracting virtue of
never looking dull, dismal, or depressing. It is a
glowing little fore-court garden, ever bright, ever
trim and fresh. The Lithospermums never fail to
give a second, though small, display of flowers, and
most of the other beds, here and there, cheer up
and manage a flower or two sometimes, and are
scarcely all out of bloom at once, only indulging
in a lull until their general blaze-up. They are
all allowed to grow just over the edge, which
nearly hides the bricks, and as the beds are raised

io My New Zealand Garden

in the centre, they look full to overflowing. A
path surrounds each bed, which makes weeding
or replanting easy and clean work, and it is nice
to be able to inspect the plants to one's heart's
content without treading on earth. Mixed borders
surround this pet bit of garden, and a few of the
most flourishing inmates I will now recount.

Beginning with the shrubs at the back, first
comes Pomaderris elliptica, or Kumarahou, as it is
called by the natives. It grows on poor soil to
the north of Auckland, and its flowers are old-
gold colour. Mrs. Featon has an excellent illustra-
tion of it in her volume of New Zealand plants,
where she truly remarks, ' No artist can do justice
to its beautiful finish.' Its blossoms are in cymes
composed of numerous delicate, tiny flowers, set
in myrtle green foliage, which shows them off to
perfection. Toxophilea spectabilis grows and flowers
well, but its foliage is generally of a purplish hue,
which is a drawback to its appearance, and I
think its flowers are too squatly arranged round
the stem for great beauty, but they look in char-
acter with its very thick leaves. Rhododendron
arboreum, although I believe the oldest, is surely
the best of the reds, for its blood-red blossoms are
quite free from any rose colour, that undesirable
tinge so often found in other reds. Exocorda
grandiflora is a very welcome shrub, because of its
indisputably pure white flower and its adaptability

My New Zealand Garden 1 1

to any soil and circumstances. The double White
Peach and a clear bright red one from Japan are
special treasures, with which the most fastidious
could not fail to be satisfied : their perfect fresh-
ness is most charming ; and the same may be said
of the semi-double Japanese Cherry, with delicate
pink blossoms. Grevillea obtusifolia is about 4 feet
high, and nearly always in flower, but in spring it
surpasses itself, its peculiarly shaped flowers, of
an indescribable deep pink hue, possessing a satin
gloss which makes it a gem.

Romneya coulteri grew such fine blooms that
I set off to the photographer to establish the fact.
The largest that I measured were 7^ inches in
diameter. I don't suppose that any other white
flower can vie with them. Their huge crinkled
petals, surrounding that great yellow cushion, are
quite sensational.

Genista Andreana is a beautiful thing. One
is not prepared to come suddenly upon a common
thing like a Broom in new colours, and when I
first set eyes upon it I could scarcely believe them.
Its blossoms are blotched in the centre with reddy
brown as bright as a beautiful Calceolaria. Of
course, it ranks as a valuable novelty.

Telopea speciosissima (Waratah), which comes
from the Blue Mountains of Australia, is a most
conspicuous shrub. Its flowers are almost as large
and as round as cricket-balls, and are composed of

12 My New Zealand Garden

separate long-tubed florets of shaded red. My
largest shrub, which is about 8 feet high, had
sixty blooms on it, lately.

The Cape Waratah is more beautiful still ; the
flowers are smaller and more elegant, and of a
vivid scarlet. I brought one from Dunedin as
a large plant, but I don't think it ever recovered
the wrench, although it flowered for two consecu-
tive years.

The name the Bottle-Brush, by which the
Callistemon, another Australian shrub, is commonly
called, helps to describe both the pink and the
red. I do not know what this shaped flower
should be properly termed, but it is a most
accurate pattern of a bottle-brush. The Japanese
Maples are indeed treasures, but a few with varie-
gated pink foliage seem obstinately determined to
stop growing. I used to pick off all the foliage
which was not correct ; but they resented this
treatment, so I now let them have their own way,
forsaking the colours in which I bought them.
I am, however, truly thankful for any foliage they
choose to give me, for it is quite superb alike on
the tree or in the room, lasting for an amazing
time in water.

The wax-like pink flowers of Kalmia latifolia
make it an unmistakable gem, and it flourishes
in its soil of rotten turf. Andromeda Japonica
deserves all praise ; it grows to a large shrub, and,

My New Zealand Garden 1 3

like all the other gems, cannot be made enough
of. A . floribunda, its little relative, can only rank
as a footstool to it. The Queensland Lily, Dory-
anthus excelsa — so much ' excelsa ' that we have to
climb the step-ladder to look at it — has great
blossoms of dark-red florets somewhat resembling
a Turk's-head broom, handle and all, in its whole
contour. It only flowers once every four years.
One can forgive it for that, for its stalk is 9 inches
round, and must take all its time to manufacture.
Mine has increased to several off-sets which look
as if they could be taken away for separate plants.
Cristia grandiflora, with its bunches of wonderfully-
shaped yellow flowers, grows quite 10 or 12 feet
high, and seeds freely.

Brugmansias, both white and yellow, are cut
down by our frosts, but sprout up again in the
spring. The White Oleander and also Professor
Martin, a good red, do splendidly. Acacia cultri-
formis is a real gem, with its light pea-green,
curiously arranged foliage and flowers of deep
yellow — soft little balls which nobody can help
admiring. The great single Rose, Rosa rugosa,
both white and pink, sends up suckers rather too
freely, and is better on the grass, where the
mowing-machine cuts them off. Laburnum Adami
may vary in colour, but mine is a dull flesh shade,
and not very attractive. Laburnums, with their
inseparable friends, the Lilacs, seem quite happy

14 My New Zealand Garden

in their new country ; in fact, most English things,
as well as Australian, are very well satisfied here.

Among smaller subjects, the White Watsomia
is very handsome. Physalis alkekengi is a great
acquisition to any border. Its orange scarlet pods
are as large as hen's eggs, and a truly marvellous
sight. It dies down in winter, appearing again
in spring. The small yellow-fruited kind, com-
monly called the Cape Gooseberry, makes a most
delicious jam, and twice last summer I picked
20 pounds of fruit from that number of plants.

Gerbera jaminonii is one of my newest captures.
It is a Cape Daisy, and quite a sensational flower.
It is the shape of a Pyrethrum, with longer petals
and of a light, soft scarlet or terracotta scarlet.
The leaf resembles that of a Dandelion, but is
much larger and thicker. Fortunately, it is of easy
growth and increases very rapidly, for with careful
disentanglement of its long tuberous root it can
be divided every year. The flowers are on a rather
stout stalk ii- feet long.

When I am parading the garden with friends,
of course the striking and beautiful yellow flowers
of Arum Elliotiana causes a halt, and with it some-
times the remark, 'I like the white one best.'
I confess to feeling a little nettled at their coldness,
although I envy the pure taste of all those who
admire white flowers most. This beautiful yellow
Arum is quite as hardy, divides as well, and in-

My New Zealand Garden 15

creases as fast as the white. They are not hybrids,
and their descendants are just as large and yellow
as their ancient parents.

Fuchsia triphylla is killed down to the ground
in winter. It is simply splendid in summer,
growing 2 feet high or more. I think it is one of
those rather inconvenient subjects who wish to
come in for the winter like Sahia splendens, but
they fill up the greenhouse too much. S. splendens
emerges from its winter quarters in pieces about
every other spring, and each piece makes a nice
plant to come in again in autumn, as they do not
mind being taken up and potted. They flower
for some time in the greenhouse, and the next
summer make fine plants in the garden again.
The pink Lily of the Valley is generally voted
to be rather disappointing in colour, but every-
body likes a new thing. At present it is very
scarce, which, of course, enhances its floral value.

Portulacas get all the sun they can desire, and
respond accordingly ; but there must be something
peculiar in the light of some days, for sometimes
when, apparently, there is no sun, they are wide
open. It is a very pleasant deviation from their
rule, which, I suppose, this climate enables them
to indulge in so often.

The Australian Flannel Flower is very curious,
and grew well the only year that I sowed it. The
petals are just like white cotton velvet tinted with

1 6 My New Zealand Garden

green at the tips. It has a faint but peculiar and
pleasant scent, and the flowers will last quite ten
days or a fortnight without water. Linum trigyniun
is a very pretty bright yellow flower, and another,
with very much larger and deep orange-coloured
flowers, whose specific name I am not sure of, is
a perfect beauty.

We are near the end of this assemblage of
plants and their accompanying merits, which I
could not omit to mention. Among the rest that
occupy front seats on this border is Stokesia cyanca,
which deserves great praise. It inherits all the
best points of the Aster family, to which it belongs.
It is very floriferous, and continues its blooming
period nearly all the summer, and well into the
winter. The flowers, which are single with serrated
edges, are a good blue mauve colour, and last well
in water and on the plant. There are also Neritim
Fothergilii, with its brilliant scarlet petals, spark-
ling with the appearance of gold-dust upon them ;
the glistening white one and a pink Sarnunsis ; a
blood-red Canna, Lilium auratum, Inula glandulosa,
Adonis vernalis, Haemanthus, Hedychium, Brousve-
gias, and Aquilegias, some large single blue and
white, some with lemon and various mixtures of
amazing beauty— all from a packet of Veitch's seed.
It was indeed a surprise packet worth having.

CHAPTER III

LIKE all true lovers of flowers, I disdain
artificiality, and it positively grieves me to
see sham Palms and other plants in pots. I should
like to syringe them well. Paper Narcissi and
many other sorts of flowers, so beautifully done
that it was impossible to say which were real with-
out touching them, made their appearance here
at a flower show. Of course, they were not com-
peting for prizes, but only on exhibition to procure
orders ; but it seemed all wrong. I suppose we
shall next see sham garden plants warranted to
stand the weather. I think, if we hark back to
old times, we can see that ^Estheticism robbed us
of a great deal of reality when it came marching
in and upsetting our balance like a modern Eve.
There must have been considerable pretence when
people held up a Lily and tried to delude themselves
into the belief that they feasted upon it until they
were almost faint, or would have had us believe
it if they could. The extravagance of ideas has
not abated much since that time, and I see no

17 2

1 8 My New Zealand Garden

sign of the end of it. I think that Art, with all
her practical skill, took ^Estheticism by the hand,
and off they went together, and I seem to recognise
one of the results achieved by the amalgamation,
in pictures where some of our comely forms have
ceased to be portrayed in clothes. I quite agree
with an old nurse whom we once took to see some
statuary, when she expressed her opinion that
'they should have just a shawl or suffen.' She
had not attained to the acquired taste necessary
to appreciate the sight any more than the Suffolk
gamekeeper who was treated to the theatre, and
only uttered between his yawns whenever the
leading character appeared, ' Hinder 'ee be agin !'
Although I am such an ardent gardener, I do
not like even that work overdone. Where gravel
must be kept as smooth as a lake, and wheel-
marks removed as soon as made, I would just
as soon have the paths raked in patterns with
stepping-stones to walk upon like the Japanese ;
nor would I like my turf of such a velvety nature
that it is very treason to take a short-cut across
it. The spirit of ' dress and keep our gardens '
only means do not neglect them, and if we
overdo the keeping of them it surely brings a
reaction, of which the fashionable wild garden
is the result. It belongs to a vitiated taste,
just as a person who has lived too long on made
dishes, appreciates a chop.

My New Zealand Garden 19

Room decorations seem to have reached a crisis,
for the lavish profusion of flowers one sees is
almost suggestive of waggons and haymakers for
bringing and stacking them. With the advent of
specimen glasses, one naturally expected some
transformation to take place, perhaps to offer us
an opportunity of seeing flowers arranged singly,
in order that we might examine them all round.
But nothing of the sort : the tiny things are so
top-heavy with their lovely contents that when
they tip over in a draught one wonders how they
balanced up so long. The law of fitness demands
that excesses shall be followed by reactions, though
they may tarry long in coming ; and if, before long,
a new era of less extravagant wardrobes set in, the
wholesomeness of it would be very apparent. If
a happy medium ruled us in the matter of dress,
we should be happier and healthier, for the way
in which we slave to persecute our systems, to the
detriment of mind as well as body, is appalling ;
and tight shoes and such horrors do not do justice
to God's works, and therefore cannot be good.
But I must reiterate that a tidy garden does do
justice to God's work. I have often noticed that
when people have a shrub they value they will
weed round it, or cut the grass, or make a little
border round it ; and I am sure that shrub is
rendered more attractive by its orthodox surround-
ings, because justice is done to God's work — in

2—2

2o My New Zealand Garden

fact, His work is magnified by us, which must be
satisfactory to a well-balanced mind. The more
we become acquainted with God's doings, and the
more we come in contact with them, so much
the more good we shall imbibe. The influence
of gardening on young minds is especially valuable,
bringing out a love of the real and true. The
taste is implanted in us all, and should be nourished
in school-life, just as much as other knowledge ;
and if boys were taught to plant street trees, they
might learn to respect them, instead of pulling
them up and laying them across the path to throw
you down. And if a knowledge of plants were
taught, it would add another and lasting pleasure ;
and plants by the wayside might receive a share
of their attention, instead of gates, which do not
require to be taken off their hinges and broken.
Surely it is incumbent on us to teach the young
to till - the soil ; and speaking regardless of the
more important reasons, it would lead to the
production of good gardeners, for whom there is
an increasing demand.

What various excuses one hears for not garden-
ing ! One gentleman told me that his garden was
too hard to dig. Another neighbour said his soil
was quite worked out. I suggested working some-
thing in, but, plainly, digging was not his hobby.
A lady told me she had gardened so hard, and was
quite discouraged; and I felt by the intonation

My New Zealand Garden 21

of her two last words it meant good-bye to garden
work.

My friends tell me I work like a man — well, I
played like a boy, so there is nothing surprising
in that ; but had I all the strength of a man, I
should have done all the work myself, for wages
are higher than in England, and skilled labour
very scarce.

A greenhouse is almost as common an appen-
dage to a house here as a bathroom, but they are
not unmixed blessings, as they are apt to become
an eyesore if they are not well looked after and
blight kept down. Of course, the entire charge
of them is quite beyond the pale of the handy-
man, be he never so handy, so it was with great
trepidation that I left mine for a time. On my
return, I found that the inmates had been leading
the life of aquatics. Their saucers were full of
water, and judging by the earth splashed about,
and the holes in the soil all round the plants, the
water must have descended upon them in torrents —
in fact, frothed down. Their guardian said that I
told him to keep them neither wet nor dry, and
that he did not know what to do, so he kept them
wet. His intellect did not surpass that of the
maudlin man who saddled his horse with the
front of the saddle towards the tail, and when
expostulated with, only said, ' How do you know
which way I am going ?' I had a few Orchids

22 My New Zealand Garden

in the greenhouse, where Cypripedium spectabilis
always flowered splendidly, sometimes producing
twelve blooms on one plant ; but C. villosum was
not so free flowering. My treatment of Masde-
vallias and Dendrobiums was a marked failure.
They would persist in working to the edges of
their pots, as if they wanted to get out. They
gave me to understand that they received neither
the skilled attendance nor the moist heat befitting
such high-class subjects. And so we parted com-
pany. It is almost warm enough here for the
lovely Stephanotis floribunda to go through the
winter without artificial heat, as only twice in
twenty years were mine killed by frost. Salvia
splendens is quite contented with an unheated
greenhouse, as well as many other subjects which
crowd the hothouse in England. Hoya carnosa
will manage through the winter out of doors
against a close-boarded paling fence, with another
creeper spreading partially over it to keep off the
worst of the cold. Heliotropes, when large plants,
can be coaxed through some winters on a sheltered
border, and their condition is sometimes quoted
to indicate the severity of the winter. ' Look at
your Heliotrope, that will tell you,' I have heard
gardeners say. Glass structures can be too hot
here in summer, so my plants are migratory, and
go out under the shade of trees, or into a skeleton

My New Zealand Garden 23

shed with bushes round the sides and forming the
roof, commonly called a ' bush-house,' and for
summer these places afford much pleasure and
occupation ; but what garden enthusiast would be
minus a greenhouse — if only to sow seeds in in
spring and to dabble in in winter ?

CHAPTER IV

SOMETIMES I attribute my love for rake,
^5 spade, and hoe, to have proceeded from the
lack of a good education, which, as compared with
my own, most children received, for I was always
shaky about the three R's, nor much better read
than the old gardener, who could master every word
in his book except the long one at the end — ' Picca-
dilly.' And I might have been in the same dilemma
as the young student who was to pass his divinity
examination on the correct answer of the one
question, ' Who was the first King of Israel ?'
He said ' Saul,' but when leaving the room he
turned round and said to the examiners : ' I forgot
to say, gentlemen, that he was afterwards called
Paul.' Then, again, my wholesale ignorance
might almost have compared with that of the
youth in London who, unable to decide whether
to propose to Maria or Anne, found his help in
Ave Maria Lane, and settled to 'ave Maria. And
my spelling — well, I suppose I had a pretty good
ear for sound, but the word ' luncheon ' brought
24

My New Zealand Garden 25

me much humiliation, for I had not mastered it
when it appeared on the table, and the transfor-
mation of that memorable word into ' leonchun '
was satisfactory to me for years afterwards.

What procured for me too many holidays at
this epoch was the dull-green colour of ' Murray's
Grammar.' I know I went white at the sight of
it, and want of fresh air was often put down as
the cause, and I was sent out with the delightful
dismissal of ' Go and run about.' I did run about,
and was sometimes soon at the top of the highest
elm-tree, with my mouth packed with two rook's
eggs, ready for their safe descent. It was rather
interesting to be told by a dentist lately that my
mouth was rather large inside — the rook's eggs
flashed across me. Although climbing trees was
admissible for me quite as much as it was for my
brothers, the roof of the house was not supposed
to be infested with monkeys like us. One morning,
however, I suppose ' Murray ' looked particularly
sickening, so I escaped in good time, and to the
roof I repaired without delay, to explore. It was
a three-story house, and I soon gained the top
by an attic window ; but I had never seen the
other side of the roof. It was a great expanse of
large slates — not at all my idea of happiness — and
steep, and I actually thought for a moment. But
the grade deceived me, and wetting my fingers to
prevent them from slipping, I started backwards

26 My New Zealand Garden

on my hands and knees, slowly at first, but faster
and faster, like John Gilpin, and I quickly realized
that there seemed nothing between me and death.
However, instinct (I claim nothing more) caused
me to flatten out, and by the aid of my shoe-tips
and very sore fingers I not only stopped, but
dragged myself up again, and experienced an
exquisite sensation of escape from something
terrible. One more error of judgment I must
recount, which is still fresh in my memory, and
ever will be. I undertook to spring a rat-trap
with my fingers and to get them out in time ; and
oh ! the two first joints of those sticky extremities !
Shall I ever forget it ? Will those who heard me
ever forget it ? I soon had a small crowd round
me, and I thought I heard ' What a little fool !'
among the sympathizers. Suffice it to say that
I conceived the same opinion of myself, and have
ever since looked upon rat-traps as blessings in
disguise. The trap was ordered into the deepest
part of the pond, and some of my vanity was
simultaneously quenched.

I had one dear girl friend at this time who
helped to retain in me some of the girlhood which
I would so gladly have exchanged for boyhood,
and although this bosom friend was a few years
my junior, still, she was my leader in all
that was best. We ran riot together when we
could meet, and spent our time chiefly on the

My New Zealand Garden 27

bare backs of my mother's horses, which were
quiet though groggy. Tilting at the ring, stand-
ing on their backs, and endeavouring to get on
and off by the aid of a surcingle, afforded us
intense happiness. We had four of this class
of quadruped, so that when one pair was wanted
for the carriage we could still continue our antics.
I know that these meetings were considered almost
too blissful by my good mother, who thought that
pleasure should fill up only the very smallest
crevices of life ; consequently, our meetings were
not so frequent as they could have been. I am
quite sure that my dear mother had no idea to
what lengths Satan went to fill my idle hands
with mischief to stuff the gaping crevices of my
time.

My brothers had a resident tutor, or even two
sometimes, and it has often occurred to me that
my governess might have had a very gay time
had she wished, for her occupation of looking
after me was rather a sinecure. I much preferred
my brothers' companionship, for we were insepar-
able, although I was most deeply attached to, and
dearly loved, one lady who was with us for some
years. But I often lost sight of her, and some-
times my holidays were so long that those of
Christmas joined those of midsummer. Of course,
I was a harum-scarum tomboy, but my dear
mother had no misgivings on that account, and

28 My New Zealand Garden

only feared the opposite extreme for me. My
dolls were divested of their finery, that I might
not become imbued with a passion for dress, and
every care was taken that I might grow up quite
natural, which I naturally did.

My mother drove out regularly, and every after-
noon the carriage was at the door, and almost
as regularly I was captured and placed in it. I
used to hang my head over the side, and specu-
late which stones the wheels would go over.
This gave me a straight eye, which comes in
useful for gardening sometimes. After service on
Sunday afternoons my brothers and their tutors
took walks, and my governess and I were expected
to see any sick poor at the most distant part of
the village, and, curiously enough, we sometimes
all met. We children thought it lucky, and our
preceptors thought it well planned, I suppose.
The Hovell Arms was our furthest village
boundary in one direction, and we always under-
stood that the last representative of the Hovell
family was dead, so I was very interested to meet
Canon Hovell of Napier lately, to disprove the
fact. To think of him being connected with that
little wayside inn, bearing his name and arms,
brought back much of my past life, even the
sound of the village church bells. Bells ! Yes, I
am right in applying the plural to them, for bells
they just were, though perhaps the worst ever

My New Zealand Garden 29

rung. Yet there is much deep-seated beauty to
remember in them ; their efficacy was more power-
ful in drawing young men and maidens, old men
and children, into that little old church, with its
mouldy tombs, to praise the name of the Lord,
than many a fine peal might be now. My dear
mother loved their summons, because she was so
real, for it takes more than sentiment to like a
peal of three bells, one of them cracked. Oh for
more such mothers! and if one of the rising
generation should read this, and think that they
don't want mothers who admire cracked bells, I
can only wish them the same spirit that was
found in her. Alas ! I inherit few of her virtues,
but I do inherit simplicity enough to wish for
nothing more advanced than the simple services
set forth in these four little lines :

' Lord, how delightful 'tis to see
A whole assembly worship Thee !
At once we sing, at once we pray,
In this Thy house, on this Thy day.'

The choir does nearly all the singing for us
now, and we look on in a theosophistic sort of
way, trying to think it instead of joining. I am
amazed at my own voice if I try. This theme
suggests the appropriate mention of a little
chorister. The story goes, or rather the purport
of it, that an angel came to a little chorister when

30 My New Zealand Garden

he was in bed, and asked him why they did not
have their anthem that evening. The boy, all
surprised, started up, saying that he was confident
that they had their very best, and gave the angel
the name of the composer. Then the angel said,
' It never came up.' I often think of those
country services and their antiquated surround-
ings with lingering affection.

The hymn tunes were limited in number, but
that was as well, as it enabled the labouring class,
of whom the congregation was composed, to learn
the words, for a large majority of them could not
read. But it seemed to me they all joined in, and
I know that none could have been in that un-
happy condition of the plough-boy at St. Paul's,
who said, ' As they all sang what they liked, I sang
" Bob and Jo." ' I used to watch the men uncover
their heads when they got to the church door,
and I thought how reverently they did it, and
it seemed to add to the sanctity which pervaded
those precincts. Some of the women would even
drop a curtsey, and the men touch their hats as
they entered, out of sheer reverence for the House
of God, and for the sacredness of the occasion of
their coming together. I know that those country
folk valued their services, for, if I may so express
it, they seemed religiously business-like. Some
had a long way to trudge on muddy roads, but
those poor little bells reminded them of the

My New Zealand Garden 31

privilege awaiting them, and many responded to
their call.

My wild life ended when my darling mother
died, and I was sent to live in a town, all properly,
with an aunt; and ever since I have so sym-
pathized with birds in cages that I always feel
inclined to open their doors. I did my five years'
penal servitude patching up my education, and
then married. One of my poor dear brothers
I only saw again when he came to die at our
house a few years afterwards, the other also
died young, and had I been a boy, I believe I
should have been with them now.

It is very remarkable that we never dream of
the dead as dead — at least, I don't, and many
others say the same. I have tried to construe this
into a reassuring hope of some kind, building
vague castles in the air. I like to try and imagine
myself where I fain would be, and in raptures
saying, ' No wonder we could not dream of them
as dead;' and with all mysteries cleared away,
easily realizing how that they were not ' the dead
to bury their dead ' ; and then our unalloyed
happiness casting oblivion over the absent ones —
misty, harmless day-dreams, I hope. The well-
known typical allusion to our future state in the
career of the butterfly and its three changes is
very pleasant, I think. First the caterpillar walk-
ing the earth, seeking its staff of life ; then in its

32 My New Zealand Garden

shroud remaining withdrawn from sight till light
and beauty call it forth in its glorified state ; and I
wonder, if this were all so, whether we should
recognise each other, or whether such recognitions
would avail us anything in His presence, where
He is all in all.

CHAPTER V

I HAVE just seen Mr. Barr, the great bulb-
grower, who is touring the colonies, and
spared two half-hours to visit my garden, among
others. He enlightened me very much on the
culture of Blandfordias, which I have always
found difficult to grow and flower well. Mine
resent the kindness which I have bestowed upon
them ; and no wonder, for it appears that they
only require hard, baked clay, and flourish in full
exposure to Australian sun on the railway-banks
there, and are a magnificent sight at all the
stations. This they must indeed be, for their
large golden bells will tell out their own beauty.
I must fish up some of our subsoil for them, to
see how they like it. That they cannot bear
disturbance at the roots I have found to my cost.
One which I bought as Nobilis does better with
me than the other. Perhaps Australian light has
more red in it, which, the last new theory asserts,
forces plants along nolens volens. Mr. Barr also
admired the natural way in which Clianthus
33 3

34 My New Zealand Garden

dampen (Sturt's Pea) grew here, but as his visit
was near winter, I could only furnish him with
a small photograph of some branches which I cut
off the previous summer. It grows flat along the
ground, spreading out in all directions from the
stem, and measuring about 5 feet across. Its
flowers have a startling richness and perkiness
which is very sensational at first sight. It grows
larger in Australia and much more robustly, but
it is beautiful enough for anything here. He was
also much enamoured of a dwarf Pomegranate
(Punica granatum nana), and I should like to
know some fresh adjectives to describe it. Pellucid
will do for one, for its blossoms possess such
a clearness and delicacy of texture and colour
that it is quite unique. The petals are so thin
and of such a vivid scarlet that it fills one with
wonderment ; I stand and stare at it. Sometimes,
in buying plants, one is fortunate in getting a good
one of its kind and sometimes the reverse, and
J think this must have been an exceptionally good
one, as Mr. Barr pronounced it the best he had
ever seen.

It is very delightful to meet such an authority
on one's hobby, and I quite wish that a new
profession would start up to establish a resident
expert in every town to devote his time to visit-
ing amateurs' gardens. It would save many
great disappointments. Nobody seems sure how

My New Zealand Garden 35

big a new plant will grow, and it gets put into the
wrong spot and has to be moved, sometimes
unnecessarily, for fear it should not thrive in the
first spot ; and I know one gentleman who moved
his Gerbera to death. Now, this new profes-
sional gentleman, who I suppose would be called
garden doctor or expert, or something to that
effect, might have saved the life of that plant,
price 35. 6d., and its owner much tribulation.
I don't know what sort of fee would be forth-
coming for his services, and fresh air would not
fill his pocket sufficiently ; but he would find the
occupation a wholesome panacea for his frequent
infirmities, I am sure. A lady in England told
me that keeping fowls was the panacea for all
worries. She had purchased a hundred, the
incubator was on its way, and she was going to
manage them all herself, and reap no end of profit.
But I am afraid she must have found the panacea
worse than the worries even with the 'profits'
added on.

' Chacun a son gout? she would say to me when
I was still in England. ' What can you find to do
in the garden ?' It was a puzzling question, for
whatever I did in that garden, there was always
someone who could do it better and had plenty
of time to do it in. If I raked a border, ' he who
could do it better ' was sure to come by, and as he
passed I could hear little grunts, which, being

3—2

36 My New Zealand Garden

interpreted, were : ' That border does not require
raking, and when it does it will be done.' He
was a really good gardener, and we had recently
bought the place with him on it, for he had been
with the previous owner for eight years ; but he
had always been accustomed to receive all prizes
at shows as perquisites, which rather hampered
our doings among the flowers and fruit. We
watched his superior methods of gardening for
four years, and then found ourselves out here.

I must say that that man was one of the best
managers possible, for, besides a large garden to
look after, he had a huge conservatory and two
other greenhouses, one of which was a forcing-
house. Every plant was well understood and
attended to by him, single-handed, for a weekly
wage of fifteen shillings and no food! I often
think of him with reverence.

We soon came to the conclusion that this
climate, situated as we are — 100 miles north of
Wellington, our capital city, and about 250 south
of Auckland, our largest northern city— resembles
the Scilly Islands. There the vegetation looks
almost sub -tropical compared to Cornwall,
although only thirty miles off. I suppose the Gulf
Stream manages the temperature. Our vegeta-
tion matches that of Scilly and perhaps the
Channel Islands, but, of course, as New Zealand
boasts of about the same dimensions as the

My New Zealand Garden 37

British Isles, we are not swept by sea spray nor
wrapped in sea fogs, although we have a super-
abundance of the four winds that blow, and a
Wellington man is supposed to be known in other
parts by holding his hat on. His hat trick does
not minimize the curious tradition that his par-
ticular city is subject to two prevailing or trade
winds instead of one.

Hydrangeas grow very large in Scilly, and seem
to enjoy the mists which envelop them so often.
I saw no blue ones there, perhaps because they
have nothing but pure granite to grow in ; and I
should avoid planting them in that, for I had
rather have a blue, however small, than a pink,
however large.

In Auckland nearly all are a good deep blue,
growing on scoria soil. I have not yet succeeded
in growing a good blue one myself, though I have
tried many ways ; and as iron is supposed to turn
the colour of their flowers blue, I buried coils of
iron wire round their roots. As this plan failed, I
pulled the plants up in disgust, but left the wire
in the ground, which someone will vote a nasty
trick when they try to dig there. A friend of
mine had a very fine plant growing in a pumice
soil, which had beautiful large flowers of the palest
blue.

One of the advantages of a climate like this
is the large amount of fresh air that one can

38 My New Zealand Garden

enjoy, for we are seldom imprisoned by weather
for long. The winters are short, and enough
cannot be said in praise of our autumns, which
are long, glorious stretches of fine weather, which
launch us into winter in the most delightful
manner possible. I almost believe that this par-
ticular part has the pick of New Zealand climate,
but I may be prejudiced, for had I subdued sub-
soil in any other spot, I might have been equally
enamoured of it.

Spring is the most windy time, when we
occasionally get an equinoctial gale, which is
terrific — for want of a fiercer word.

I am told that here wind does not travel more
than half the pace that it does in England. If
such be the case, I am surprised, and can only
imagine that it must be assisted by sleight of hand
tricks.

One night, to our consternation, it tore every
gooseberry-bush out of the ground, and stacked
them in one corner of the garden. Of course,
this would not do ! It was plain that both top
and under shelter must be got up with all speed.
So high palings soon made their appearance,
whilst I sowed boxes of Blue-Gum seed. If I were
only told that those trees are now 80 feet high, I
could not believe it ; but there they are, a fine belt,
doing their duty well. I never heard of a Blue
Gum being blown down. I don't think such a

My New Zealand Garden 39

thing ever happened ; but I do know that in a
severe gale the whole place is strewn with minced
gum-leaf, about the size of a threepenny piece,
which no rake can collect : a brush and comb
would do it better. There may be something in
the gum-leaf peculiarly adapted for mincing, for I
never saw any other leaves so shattered. How-
ever, a broom gathers them sufficiently, and they
are conveyed to my rubbish hole, from which I
never fail to obtain twenty or thirty barrows of
manure every year.

Another gale took the opportunity of visiting us
after torrents of rain, which reduced the sub-soil
to such a pulp that you might as well expect a
spoon to stand up in a basin of treacle as trees in
those water-logged holes. Down went a long
row of Pinus insignis like ninepins ; they were
12 feet high. So when the gale abated, they were
restored to their upright position ; but with their
heads chopped off. They soon recovered from
their execution, and now contribute to our top
shelter.

Bad drainage, we settled, was responsible for
a good deal of this. The pipes, which were tiny
and a long way apart, were probably choked, and
had finished acting for ever. So we put down
drains here, there, and everj'where; not always
proper pipes, as the cost mounted up too much,
but makeshifts were substituted, such as stones,

40 My New Zealand Garden

broken brick and crockery, and boarded drains.
The best of these amateur inventions was fencing-
wire, twisted like a huge corkscrew, and laid in
the drain in place of pipes, with a thick layer of
pine-needles over them, and then filled in again.
These, I am sure, have formed permanent little
tunnels, acting well ever since. On wet days
I often enjoy an umbrella trip to the main outlet
of all these inventions, and gloat over the volumes
of water pouring out.

Of course, before the subsoil was vanquished
and buried to its present depth, beds had to be
dug at least 3 feet by 3 for the reception of any
tree or shrub, and into twenty of these beds I put
twenty Scarlet- flowering Gums (Eucalyptus ficif olio)
in a straight row down the drive. My bump of
order is to blame for this and many more rows,
and the poor things must feel like soldiers when
we inspect them. I gave one penny for each of
these seeds. They flowered in four years, and
every summer they are a sight to see. They are
covered with scarlet, or in some cases crimson,
inflorescence arranged in cymes or large round
flattish bunches, each flower composed of stamens
with delicate gray anthers, and it is difficult to
say which colour is the most beautiful. I believe
these trees would grow 40 or 50 feet high, but
mine are topped to about 15 feet to avoid damage

My New Zealand Garden 41

by wind. The seed-vessels have to be removed
for the same reason, as they are very numerous,
and soon become very heavy. The flowers secrete
a great quantity of honey, which the moths in the
evening seem to appreciate almost more than the
bees in the daytime.

CHAPTER VI

LAPAGERIAS, both the red and the white,
do well here on a trellis, a little shaded
from the mid-day sun. But slugs and snails find
the young shoots so appetizing that I sometimes
know when a shoot is nearly through the ground
by a snail endeavouring to reach down through
the soil to meet it. So, after removing the snail,
I replace it by a slug protector, which is like
a flower-pot made of perforated zinc ; and having
been welcomed up in this safe and sure cage, the
shoot goes on growing safely for a few weeks, when
it is too long for its cage. Then I put on it a
tube-shaped muslin bag, but much too long ; and
I keep putting down its skirt as the shoot grows,
and when it has outgrown this garment it is also
safe from foes. I have had these plants for more
than sixteen years, but they never attempted to
seed until this year ; and I attribute the happy
event to the instrumentality of the humble-bee,
which has lately been imported here, and has
proved himself an fait at the fertilization of red
42

My New Zealand Garden 43

clover, which baffled all other bees. Next on the
trellis is Akebia quinata, which has monopolized
30 feet in one direction, going at breakneck speed,
the young shoots clutching hold of each other and
forming ropes before one can look round. It tried
to gallop over the Lapagerias in the other direc-
tion, so the shears had to come and keep order ;
but its lovely real puce-coloured, sweet-scented
flowers quite atoned for its aggressiveness. Its
five-fingered foliage seems to suit it exactly, but
I always think each flower has the foliage which
suits it best — or it may be imagination. Next
comes the Gelsemium, derivecl from the Italian
name for Jessamine. It seems to like peeping out
among the Akebia, finding shelter for its young
shoots, which object to the frost. Here is a
beautiful Rose called Madam Fernet, though I am
not sure that it has not a third name. The colour
of it is the deepest, brightest shell-pink ever seen
in any shell, and the substance of its petals so
shell-like that an elastic imagination may see
a resemblance. It will hold out all night on a
ball-dress against all competitors, and its many
points of excellence have placed it as Laureate
in our garden. It has an exceptionally good and
large bed, which it shares with Poinciana Gilliesii,
its next-door neighbour.

What a wonder this Poinciana is ! The vernacular
name which the natives have for it in Mendoza

44 My New Zealand Garden

is ' Mai de ojos ' (bad for the eyes). I suppose by
that, the pollen is poisonous, but in another sense
the flowers must be good for the eyes— quite
a treat : a large bunch of long red stamens,
5 inches long, coming out of the centre of yellow
cups, and from ten to twenty flowers in each
group. Owing to the beauty of the long falling
stamens, it is called the Bird of Paradise Flower,
which helps to describe its conspicuous beauty.
It has fern-like foliage, which closes towards even-
ing. I bought experience dearly here, as I lost
my finest and oldest plant from the evil effects of
bad soil and drainage, for it loves cultivation.
Close to this is the Rose Acacia (Robinia hispida),
which, I think, must certainly rank among the
gems, with its bold but elegant foliage, like the
large White Acacia, and racemes of bright, clear,
deep-pink flowers like Laburnum. Mine is on its
own root, and its thin stem and branches all want
support. It has one drawback — that of throwing
up suckers, which I now take care to cut off,
thinking they injure their parent, for I lost one in
the days when I thought them too precious to
touch. I hail the approaching day when I shall
possess one grafted on to one of its rougher rela-
tions, and I expect, if time is spared me, to grow
it into a fine suckerless tree. The foliage of this
also closes at night. A Japanese Clematis comes
next — a new-comer which has not flowered yet,

My New Zealand Garden 45

but from the account of its feathery seeds I gather
they are to surpass all seeds in beauty, as well as
its own yellow flowers. Another Jap comes next,
a singularly good gem — the Japanese Daphne,
although I cannot vouch for the authenticity of
its name, only having bought it as such ; the
blossom rather resembles the Lilac, only more
loosely arranged and drooping, and the tube of
each flower longer. Unlike our Daphne, it has
no scent, but the extreme freshness of its brilliant
mauve flowers and its great floriferousness brings
it hosts of admirers. It is deciduous, and seems
charmed with our climate.

The Pride of California (Lathyrus splendens)
forms a sort of canopy over this in summer, and
is a mass of splendour: such an intense rich
crimson pea, with an extra rich dark centre, is
quite out of the common. Something white has
come at last on the trellis, in the form of a
Japanese Plum (Prunus sinensis floripleno) , which is
so covered with bloom that it deserves another
' floripleno ' at the end of its name.

Plumbago Capensis gets very ugly in winter, even
with a veil of scrim over it, so I let it take its
chance, as the old shoots shelter the young,
and do not look worse than the scrim veil ; and I
clip it back when the ugly time is over. It is a
splendid subject for a trellis here, spreading out to
a great distance, and flowering better than it does

46 My New Zealand Garden

under glass in England- The colour is also richer
and fresher, and the flowers larger. Passiflora
incarnata, or ' Little Gem,' as I prefer to call it,
and under which name I bought it, hangs itself
in beautiful wreaths, quite a yard long, thickly
studded with its red puce flowers, some open,
some closed ; and no one can tell those which are
going to open from those which are over. A long
string of them is a very fascinating sight. I am
told that it is a herbaceous kind. It should
rank among the many gems. Ceanothus dentatits
is a sheet of blue, though only for a fortnight,
but its bright, cheerful foliage for the rest of the
year compensates for its rapid display of bloom.
It wants to grow as big as a house, and would if
I did not cut it to the bone every autumn. The
Austrian Copper Rose is, I suppose, the most
brilliant little piece of copper colour in the world —
quite another little gem.

I have now got to the last treasure on the
trellis, which I have saved purposely for a bonne
bouche, for it is a good bush. I mean the Emboth-
rium coccineum, which grows from Chili to the
Magellan Straits. It has orange-scarlet flowers
like continuous honeysuckle all down its long
whip-like branches, interspersed with handsome
elliptic-shaped rich green leaves. It has a dazz-
ling, dancing, graceful look, which strikes admira-
tion into everyone who sees it. The branches

My New Zealand Garden 47

hang down almost like a weeping willow, so I tie
the branches of one tree along the trellis, to save
breakage by wind. It evidently looks down at a
trellis support with scorn, so I ventured to chop
off its head, which was soon replaced by a dozen
more shoots. Cuttings strike and seeds grow,
and it has proved itself willing and obliging to
all treatment, so I think it fairly entitles itself to
be called ' Dux ' of the garden. It derives its
name, I read, from en (in) and bothrium (little pit),
referring to the anthers. I hear Jacaranda mimosi-
folia calling out, ' I am Dux !' Well, if Jacaranda
is jealous, we must make a plural, so I will try
and describe all the ' Duxes.' This appellation
must refer to them as being more endearing than
the correct plural, and the reader must pick and
choose. I confess I have a very warm corner in
my heart for the Jacaranda. It is related to the
Tecoma, to which one can trace the family likeness
both in the shape of the flowers and the arrange-
ment of them. Nothing can surpass the beauty
of its clusters of soft, blue flowers, each one as
large as a thimble. These, set in mimosa-like
foliage on a tree 30 feet high, as they grow in the
rather warmer climate of Auckland, are a sight that
no flower-lover should miss. They can only just
stand the frosts here, and require wrapping up in
winter while small. I seem to have lost my white
one. Perhaps it was one that was moved, and

48 My New Zealand Garden

in the middle of the operation was dropped into
its new bed through awkwardness. I secretly
wish these sort of garden hands with those unen-
lightened Boers in South Africa who won't wash,
or if they do undress for that purpose are sure to
find some garment they had lost for seven years.

CHAPTER VII

I HAVE always been too fond of moving shrubs
and trees, and one gardener proved beyond
all doubt that Clethra arborea had been all round
the premises and back again to the spot from
which it started. And during a consultation with
him as to the wisdom of starting another semi-
invalid on its rounds in search of health, he
remarked : ' It will think there is something the
matter if it don't go a little way, mum !' I seemed
to hear their little chorus of ' Breakers ahead !' as
the spades were coming. However, all these
moves were promotion into better soil and situa-
tions, though the risk was great, and the change,
I doubt not, was often worse than useless. Clethra
arborea proved to be afflicted with red spider, and
is always a disgusting sight after flowering, but
recovers by the following spring, and produces
many clusters of its lily-of-the-valley-like flowers,
which smell so strongly of Tolu lozenges. Parallel
with the happy family on the trellis I planted a row
of twenty Cordylines, or Palm Lilies, commonly
49 4

50 My New Zealand Garden

called New Zealand Cabbage Trees, for the unin-
teresting reason that someone once boiled some
and ate them as a vegetable. Some of them are
20 or 30 feet high. They look like so many sen-
tinels, and their large, waving, palm-like tops
resemble plumes. I got them all out of the
Bush, with the exception of one other kind —
Draccena, Draco, or Dragon's Blood Tree. This
deserves special mention, as its famous ancestor
was killed by a violent storm in Tenerife in 1867,
aged three thousand years. I had an excellent
excuse for putting those Palms in a row, for
Wistarias are planted at the foot of most of them,
and will soon form a beautiful screen, as they
reach from one Palm to another. I do not allow
them to embrace their giant supporters, as I
am afraid that in time they would squeeze them
to death like boa constrictors. So the shoots are
conducted along on ropes, and as these palms
branch out at the top into several heads, the
Wistarias can always find a resting-place amongst
them for their highest shoots.

It is extremely interesting work helping
one's self to plants and trees in the Bush— so
much so that the first few years of our life here
found us in it pretty regularly, with lunch, spades,
trowls, hatchets, saws, and baskets ; and we soon
captured all the native plants we wanted. Some
of the Ferns are very beautiful. The Gleichenias

My New Zealand Garden 51

are a very distinct kind, with their ladder-like
fronds set in umbrella shape. Hymenophyllums,
or filmy Ferns, are very curious. Adiantums, or
Maiden-hairs, are in infinite variety. The Todeas
are very beautiful, especially Todea superba, which
is commonly called Prince of Wales' Feather.
Pteris scabeoula, or the common ' Bracken,' grows
and spreads everywhere where the soil is good.
All of these and many others are done full justice
to, both as regards description and illustration, in
' Ferns of New Zealand,' by H. C. Field, C.E.,
and member of the New Zealand Institute. His
illustrations are most perfect. I must mention
a Fern which I have come across under the name
of the ' Norfolk Island Fern ' as being exceedingly
pretty. It has fronds of substantial material, very
finely divided.

All our friendly visits to the Bush did not
constitute Bush robbery, but those who cut down
large Nikau Palms, which are the slowest growing
of all kinds, and use them for the decoration of
ballrooms and for other festive occasions, are
greatly to blame. These Palms only make about
one frond every year,- and when a dead one falls
off, it leaves a permanent mark, which forms a
ring round the stems, so the age of the trees can
be approximately told by the number of rings on
them ; and I have counted three hundred on some
victims. The argument is that there are always

4—2

52 My New Zealand Garden

more young ones coming on, but they are not
plentiful enough to talk of in that frivolous way.
The New Zealand Bush is gradually but surely
disappearing, and young plants with it. There
is one comfort, however, that those who take small
plants now, and ultimately turn them out into
their gardens, will so perpetuate them for their
posterity that in three hundred years, if all goes
well, they will enjoy some fine specimens. One
has been in this garden for thirty years. Where
they happen to be growing about 20 or 30 feet
apart in the Bush, and their fronds reach each
other and form great evergreen arches, suggestive
of architectural designs, they are a sight to behold.
It is hard to decide whether these Palms or Ferns
are the most beautiful. The Palms are, I think,
the more imposing, owing to their bold, giant
dimensions, although, when one is near a Tree-fern,
with its great spread of lace-like fronds, I think
most people are swayed in its favour ; but I rather
cling to the Palm as being more unique. Without
doubt they are a pair of Bush ' duxes.'

Were I not so well established on conquered
subsoil, I should have enjoyed making a home in
the Bush. Fancy the bliss of ready-made Tree-
ferns and Nikau Palms to do what you liked with ;
and fancy Tropaeolums and Passion-flowers on
them. A Van volximi Passion-flower or two might
cover a Nikau, hanging its long-stalked blooms

My New Zealand Garden 53

down among the fronds ! What a sight ! I would,
of course, encourage our beautiful white native
Clematis, but ugly things I would replace with
the beautiful. What an inexhaustible soil and sub-
soil they would revel in, formed of the fallen trees
and leaves of generations ! Then a Tree-fern for
a summer-house, or two or three together, perhaps.
You could have your own Vine and Fig-tree to sit
under as well, but that would be a place of penance
compared with all this. I would not be particular
about the winding of the paths as long as they led
to one of these wondrous sights. I would edge
them with Tree-fern stems, which last so well that
even pigsties are paved with them sometimes.
Whenever I enter the Bush I am seized with
a yearning to tidy it up — to remove old trees,
which have fallen upon healthy ones, compel-
ling them to support the old dying cripples, to the
detriment of their own appearance. Then other
things are being smothered or strangled by ugly,
worthless Lawyers and Supplejacks. Lawyers are
prickly subjects, from which it is very difficult to
extricate one's self. The Supplejacks hang about
the trees like ropes, and either trip you up or
catch your head. But they have a use, as they
furnish the world with millions of walking-sticks.

I have never been far into dense Bush, nor do
I wish to, for even when picnicking on its skirts
I am terribly nervous if any of my party get

54 My New Zealand Garden

beyond * cooee ' or call. My fears are put down to
broken nerves, but I think they are more connected
with common-sense. However, I am thankful to
say that one seldom, almost never, hears of anyone
being really lost in the Bush ; yet, with those who
are not blessed with experience, and who do not
know what precautions to take, it could be so
easily done.

Fern-seekers would have little or no sport in
the depths of the Bush, but just inside, it is
deeply carpeted with Ferns, sometimes interspersed
with Antler-fern (Lycopodium volubile), spread-
ing its creeping stems over 10 feet in length. I
venture to say that lunch or afternoon tea cannot
be enjoyed amid better surroundings, entirely free
from snakes and other vile reptiles. It is difficult
to believe that such hushed and untrodden soli-
tude should be free from every loathsome, creepy,
crawly creature.

Our beautiful and curious sights are not con-
fined to the Bush, as all know ; but as I seldom
leave my plants, I have not much to describe here.
The scenery on the Wanganui River is very good :
the banks are high and steep, and thickly clothed
with native evergreen, interspersed with Tree-ferns,
occurring so thickly in places that one might
almost describe them as growing in sheets. Now
and again lovely little peeps of back scenery seem
to pass by in panoramic style between the hills in

My New Zealand Garden 55

front as one glides along the water. Maoris
coming down-stream in their canoes, bringing
produce, are very picturesque, and give the scene
a finishing touch exactly its own. The number
of Quinces that they bring down is surprising.
Wild Cherries, which are excellent, they also bring,
but not an abundant supply. I am afraid that
Maoris are not very good gardeners — at least, I
have never heard of their flower-growing propen-
sities ; and when they weed they often sit down
and clear as far round as they can reach, and then
move on and repeat the process. They grow the
Sweet Potato, which is the Yam proper, I believe,
but it does not exceed an average Potato in size.
Mine were smaller; they rather outwitted my
gardening powers. The plants run along the
ground, and it seems more like cultivating Con-
volvuluses, which the leaves resemble. I kept on
taking off cuttings and planting them, as I was
told, and I was not sure when the process should
cease. We have also a mottled purple and a
black Potato, but neither look very encouraging,
and the flavour varies little from the type.

On some of the snow mountains is to be seen,
growing to perfection, the largest and handsomest
Ranunculus in the world (R. Lyallii), of which
Mr. and Mrs. Featon remark in their ' Art Album
of New Zealand Flora ' : ' The most graphic
description would fail to give an adequate idea.'

56 My New Zealand Garden

It has been seen with forty blossoms, each as large
as a half-crown, and of the purest white. The
stem grows 2 or 3 feet high, and has several
blossoms on each stem, which almost present the
appearance of a bunch of Water Lilies. My plants
soon became small, for their wants are too difficult
to supply, requiring as they do the two extremes
of heat and cold. The yellow one, R. insignis, went
the same way. It is rather tantalizing to think of
these magnificent plants blooming away in their
almost inaccessible home.

In Rotorua, near Auckland, there are to be
seen some sights of a very different nature, which
are no less than geysers of boiling mud and boil-
ing holes of mud, which in their spasmodic con-
vulsions frighten tourists, and add considerably to
their pleasure and excitement. Besides, the crust
of earth on which one walks between and round
about these sights is so thin in places that one
has to step with care. It sounds too risky to be
pleasant, but accidents seem very seldom to occur.
I should, however, take care to secure a light-
weight companion for that expedition.

About this district lives, or is supposed to live,
our greatest insect curiosity. It is called the
Vegetable Caterpillar. The specimens that I have
seen were large, dead Caterpillars, with apparently
the root of a shrub protruding from the region
of the tail. This outgrowth is pronounced by

My New Zealand Garden 57

scientific men to be really a fungus which grows
nowhere but in this Caterpillar, and during its
growth gradually saps its life, and finally kills it.
Those which escape the spores of the fungus turn
into a large brown moth. Some of the Caterpillars
are 3 or 4 inches in length, and their root-like
appendage as long as themselves. They are
found under the soil, and those who have dug
them up have told me that they are often in a
semi-live state.

CHAPTER VIII

\ LTHOUGH, as I mentioned before, I main-
jt~\. tain that gardening is in everyone's system,
the love of it was not forthcoming in my own in
my young days. We had always a large, rambling
place, which was made more rambling by indifferent
hands, for my mother preferred to give employ-
ment to men out of work in the village rather
than keep a regular gardener; and I may safely
say that the garden, in consequence, never looked
spick and span — quite the contrary. But during
my five years of incarceration in town our usual
walk was up and down the Botanical Gardens ;
and as my good aunt was very fond of flowers, and
knew the names of very many, she always imparted
her knowledge of them to me, greatly relieving
the up and down walk, which we performed with
the regularity of sentry-go. Greenhouses were
connected with these gardens, with plants for sale,
so we not infrequently each bore home a pot-
plant for her small drawing-room. The residue
of them we used to brighten up her very tiny
58

My New Zealand Garden 59

garden, so shut in by high walls that very few
things could be induced to flower there, unless
plunged into it while they were in the very act.

My uncles used to congregate at my aunt's
house, and I have seen her little drawing-room
quite full of them. It was their rendezvous, where
they could come and vent their grievances, which
grievances were always accompanied by adjectives
of a very pronounced type. I remember particu-
larly the occasion of one visit of an uncle who
was hand-in-glove with the Master of the Fox-
hounds. A rabbit-trap, declared to be of a sus-
picious nature, had been found in an adjacent
wood, and by the way in which the account of
the tragedy was delivered, one almost felt one's
self in collusion with the gamekeepers and poachers
— in fact, every human being seemed to be in-
volved, so powerfully did he handle his subject.
During the highest pitch of the excitement,
towards the end of the tirade, he described the
sinking of the trap in a moat, and I should say
that it sank in filthy water and execrations — equal
parts. Here I must give a specimen of the crude
comments which I seem to have been capable of,
and for which I suffered accordingly ; but I do not
think that I can have deserved such a fine collec-
tion of epithets as I received. An Admiral uncle,
who, of course, having been well grounded at sea,
knew how to administer abuse, had looked in to

60 My New Zealand Garden

tell my aunt of the reprieve of a notorious criminal,
and in reply to my uncle's remark that the death
sentence should have been carried out, I unfortu-
nately chimed in : ' Perhaps a great many people
deserve hanging who escape it.' I then and there
understood what a worthless seventeen-year-old
chit I was.

I have met all six uncles at a family dinner-
party, where the manners and customs of the
previous generation formed a common topic of
conversation, interspersed with the names of a
famous few who could contain most port ! I
gathered that my uncles' generation compared
very favourably with the past, and for talking
witty nonsense I thought no generation could
compare with their own. The Vicarage was the
chief seat of these family gatherings, where hos-
pitality, wine, and conversation flowed without
the least restriction. My uncle was Vicar of the
same parish for about forty years, and was as well
established and satisfied as the Vicar of Bray.
He was kind, charitable, and liberal to an ex-
treme, and his parochial duties seemed to flow on
so silently and quietly that I sometimes wondered
whether there could have been any. They were
carried on in close conjunction with a farm, with
which they did not appear to clash. His daily drives
in a pony-gig, as that kind was then called, to the
nearest market town, a distance of three miles,

My New Zealand Garden 61

spoke of the greatest regularity. His coachman
and four-wheeler occasionally replaced the usual
equipage, but my uncle became more faithful to
the humbler conveyance after the splashboard
had been removed to admit of his very lengthy
legs stretching themselves out to their full limit.
I also remember those wonderful extremities being
clothed in haybands, wrapped round them from
ankle to knee, or higher in severe weather, and he
used to say they were the warmest gaiters ever
invented. I saw him being prepared for his
outing one day, and thought how clever the
coachman was to make so many yards of neat
haybands ! He did so little walking, and at such
a slow pace, that these gaiters remained in excel-
lent order all day. They were rather conspicuous-
looking in town, but they always looked comfort-
able in snowtime, and, as their wearer remarked,
' comfort was the chief thing about them.' My
aunt lived to the age of ninety-three, and had not
my dear mother's delicate health succumbed to
disease, their eight ages would have formed a
record. If ever there were six hale old uncles,
free from artifice and malicious microbes, these
were they.

I hope the children's glass of port, which we
always found waiting for us when we came down
to dessert, may have become extinct now, for use
became a second nature, till wine ranked as a

62 My New Zealand Garden

necessity, and was ordered down everybody's
throat for every malady — the more grievous, the
more port — and one's often infirmities must have
been braced up to concert-pitch, if not flooded out
altogether. What prodigious wine-bills it took to
souse the system to such an extent, especially as
most butlers required sousing as well ! I remember
hearing of a large cellar where, on the departure
of the soused one, every bottle was discovered
to be empty, with the exception of one, which,
he confessed afterwards, he had left for his master
to go on upon ! Butlers and cellars are chiefly
imaginary here, and a full complement of servants
generally consists of one ; so the drawing of corks
and other troubles which stimulants involve have
ended in abstemiousness in our own house, and a
pop is seldom heard. Solids, on the contrary, in
New Zealand receive a great share of attention,
and cooking is, perhaps, the most useful accom-
plishment, and may fall to the lot of anyone. It
fell to mine, but I lacked the accomplishment, and
I speak from bitter experience of myself and
others when I say that the meat-pies had no
holes in their tops! It is surprising to see the
beautiful cookery produced by some ladies, and
equally surprising to see the entire absence of all
knowledge of it in others. One of our visitors
offered to roast the chops ! She would soon have
had them hanging in a row, suspended by strings

My New Zealand Garden 63

from the chimney piece ! Then she donned her
apron and proceeded to ice a cake. She procured
unbeaten whites of eggs, as she said sweetened to
taste, and immersed the cake in them to a great
depth and all round, and promised us that the
next morning it would look like snow. But, alas !
next morning the cake appeared to be suffering
from the effects of rain. It was terribly puffed up,
but no snow anywhere ; it was saturated with
white of egg and to spare. We grasped the
situation, and quickly had it into a basin, beating
it up hard ; and with the addition of lemon essence
it turned into an excellent pudding, the surplus
white of egg being beaten up separately for the
top.

Eggs were in such plenty that when one went
through some of the paddocks, up rose the hens
from their nests in the rushes, flying like
pheasants. A tame band, however, kept guard
outside the back-door, and a still worse band
inside. One took the liberty of laying an egg in
my daughter's doll's cradle beside the doll ; others
laid under the house, which gave us some trouble,
as the nests could only be approximately located
by the cackle, and a board in the floor had to be
lifted to get at the eggs. It was not so much the
value of them which necessitated the upheaval of
the floors as the knowledge that several hens
were using the same nest, and that through too

64 My New Zealand Garden

many stools the sitting would come to naught —
though not the stench for an unlimited time.
Some country houses are built on blocks of wood
a foot or more from the ground, with nothing to
prevent fowls and small quadrupeds from walking
under as they please.

One morning, having filled half the oven with
mutton, I exclaimed to myself, ' Oh that I were a
cook, with this house full of eggs within and
without !' and, unpacking the cookery-book with
all speed, I made something that would satisfy all
the out-of-door appetites, soon to return to dinner
— a huge batter in a flat baking-dish. No sooner
was this mixed than the conviction seized me
that the potatoes ought to be well under way,
and off I set to secure some. Imagine my dismay
on my return. I met those awful fowls coming
out of the back-door, apparently wearing lemon-
coloured gloves. They had been wading about in
my batter ! If fowls are fed at the back-door to
save trouble, or, in other words, to make cords for
your own back, they will pester that spot (the
back-door) from generation to generation.

Everyone, high or low, rich or poor, should
plant a Lemon-tree or two, not only for the great
convenience of having them always for cooking,
but also for making lemon squash — that most
wholesome, comforting, and efficacious beverage
in influenza. The trees do very well here, and

My New Zealand Garden 65

soon bear, although those grown from pips take
longer than those which are grafted.

Our sweet cookery was very successful on the
whole, and if I found myself in a tight corner for
variety, fruit salads were ready to fill the gap.
These are a great institution here ; every sort of
fruit goes into them — the more sorts the better —
and it is forthcoming all the year round, with the
help of Oranges, Bananas, and Pine-apples from the
shops. The fruit of the Japanese Persimmon has
little to recommend it, for it is difficult to detect
any flavour beyond a mealy ripeness. The tree,
however, is an imposing sight, for its large yellow
fruits hang on almost into mid-winter after the
leaves have gone. Water-melons are very
common, and most refreshing on hot days,
tepidly reminding one of snow melting in one's
mouth, with rather more flavour, which sugar
greatly enhances. Vegetables are plentiful and
easy to cook, and ripe Pumpkin in winter makes
an excellent stopgap, especially when baked with
the meat. Tomatoes make a standing dish ; they
ripen splendidly out of doors and last into late
autumn, so they have always furnished us with
sauce ad libitum all through the winter. With a
little extra work we could have Green Peas in the
winter, but only bon-vivants would care to go to
that trouble, I fancy ; for we can enjoy fresh
vegetables for so many months that one would

5

66 My New Zealand Garden

scarcely care for them out of season. Red, white,
and black Currants, make too much foliage at the
expense of their fruit, although in some gardens
they manage good crops. Gooseberries bear larger
crops than I ever saw in England. Mine are
clipped like little hedges, to allow plenty of room
to walk between. They grow towards each other
as much as they like, but their sides get a very
severe pruning.

We must not be surprised if we suffer great
deprivations among the fruit in future, for the
Blackbird has just arrived to help the Thrush at
it. The latter has been on this island for three or
four years, and has not ceased to sing all the
winter. I am glad to notice that he has brought
with him his murderous accomplishment of break-
ing snails on stones. The Myna, an Indian bird,
and a good size larger than the Blackbird, makes
great havoc among the fruit, and one grudges it
to him, as he gives no song in return. He is
only capable of a few loud, ugly notes, and some-
times a little quiet, conversational-like sound,
which seems as if, with a few lessons, he would
talk. I always thought that Starlings were war
ranted not to touch fruit, but they do not resist
the temptation here ; nor have I ever seen them
sitting in their right place, on the sheep's back,
but this I hope the farmers may have done. The
dear little Goldfinch is with us in numbers,

My New Zealand Garden 67

doing its good work among the thistles ; and as
you watch them, you hope that every little bird
is doing as much good as harm, until you find all
your new-born Peas beheaded by those horrible
Sparrows, and your Crocuses and Wistaria buds
picked to pieces, and away go your hopes. I
have buried forty of these pests in one grave —
the result of poisoned wheat ; but they soon
became too sly to eat it. We tried putting some
in empty pens among those occupied by pure-
bred fowls, but they were so cautious and clever
that they would only feed in those pens which
contained fowls.

5—2

CHAPTER IX

I MUST introduce a few of our native birds
with which I have actually come into contact.
I suppose the Apteryx (Kiwi) ought to lead the
van ; for a bird that cannot fly sounds almost as
uncommon as a pig that can. My acquaintance
with this wingless bird is very slight, as they are
only active in the night ; and those I saw were
shut up in a box in the daytime, quite drowsy and
curled up in the darkest corner as round as a ball,
looking most unbird-like. They have mottled,
hair-like feathers, and long bills to drag worms
out of the ground, which is their chief or only
food. As they are to be seen alive at the zoos,
and stuffed -in the museums, most people have
seen them. Our introduction to the ' Ka Ka,' so
called from its cry, or, rather, his introduction to
us (for we eat him), was with mixed feelings.
Plucking a parrotj seemed all wrong, but, accord-
ing to others, it was all right ; so I carefully
preserved his beautiful feathers, and wondered,
knowing the great age to which parrots live, how
68

My New Zealand Garden 69

tough he might be ; but the poor little thing was
no dotard, but very tender and good. Another
was given us to kill and eat, but we had had
enough, and so tried to tame him instead, but he
got more unhappy every day, till at last we had
to let him go, and I have since heard that they
do not stand confinement.

The New Zealand Quail, which was very
plentiful, is nearly extinct now: Bush-fires have
burnt it, and dogs, cats, and rats have eaten it,
but the Australian and Californian varieties have
filled its place. A pair of the latter are very
tame here, and every spring successfully bring
out a brood of young from some corner of the
garden.

The native Kingfisher is a very conspicuous-
looking bird, much larger than the English
species, but he is so shrug-shouldered that his
figure is rather spoilt. He has some white about
him, otherwise his colours are nearly correct.
He always chooses a post or rail to sit upon,
where he looks very ornamental ; but it is a
regrettable fact that from such vantage-ground he
has been seen to swoop down and spike tiny
chickens. He is also equal to mice and lizards.
His vocal powers appear to be confined to three
shrieks, or notes, in quick succession, so his
personal appearance is his chief attraction. A
small Owl flies about the garden towards night;

jo My New Zealand Garden

it is commonly called the ' Morepork,' owing to
its distinct pronunciation of those two words.
He allows one to go within a few yards of him,
and perhaps he lets the cats do the same, as I
sometimes find dead ' Moreporks ' which seem to
have died a violent death.

The tamest little bird we have is the Fantailed
Fly-Catcher. A few come into the garden, but
they do not show the trustfulness here which they
do in the Bush, for there they hover round your
dress as if they wished to settle upon it, now and
again allowing themselves to do so for an instant.
They use their beautiful little spread-out tails and
wings in a most fascinating manner. Most of
them are quite black, with here and there a gray
one. Another tiny bird is the Bush Wren ; this,
on the contrary, has hardly any tail at all, which
rather disfigures him, but he is so tiny and sweet
that it quite makes up for his taillessness.

The Tui, or ' Parson Bird,' as he is irreverently-
called, because he has a tuft of white feathers
on his throat which are supposed to resemble a
clergyman's bands, is shining black and metallic
blue. There is no mistaking his loud and curious
song above all other songs in the Bush. Some
have compared it to a laugh, a cough, and a
sneeze all at once. I never heard anybody
afflicted with that combination, but it would
probably be devoid of anything melodious, tune-

My New Zealand Garden 71

ful, or rich ; and to these merits the Tui's note is
slightly entitled. Perhaps some uncertain and
erratic notes of the flute might help to describe
his song, but to give him his due, some people
admire his liquid voice. He is very good at
mimicry, which makes him a favourite cage-bird,
especially as he endures prison-bars well. One
or two frequent our garden in early spring, and
treat us to some of their indescribable sounds.

The little ' Silver Eye ' or ' Blight Bird,' so called
from its very useful propensity of eating various
blights, has a silvery circle round its eyes, com-
posed of tiny white feathers which are sweetly
becoming. They are always extremely busy,
rapidly examining every atom of shrub and tree,
and filling their tiny crops with every kind of
blight. They look under twigs in a most intelli-
gent manner, seeming to say, ' Nothing shall escape
us.' I was delighted to see quite forty or fifty at
work one morning, keeping very much together
round a white Oleander, which looked quite alive
with so many small hunters on it ; and I thought
what a hearty welcome they must receive from
the trees. They are gray in colour, with some
rich tints, especially the male.

The Australian, or ' Shining Cuckoo,' is a lovely
little visitor, and comes pretty regularly every
summer. I often wonder what he gains by his
trip, for if he flies those thousand miles merely

72 My New Zealand Garden

to feel a few degrees cooler it scarcely seems
sufficient reason to come, so probably there are
other attractions. He also seems rather lost,
with his strange, tame ways, which give the cats
many opportunities, and his beautiful scattered
feathers tell the sad tale. He has a magnificent
back of blue and green, and his breast has the old
familiar family markings, but more minute to suit
his size. As for his song, or rather series of notes,
they are nothing short of ventriloquism, for they
appear to begin at a distance, and then come
quite close, and all from the very same spot. On
first hearing him, I could not imagine what was
happening, and looked about for others closer ; and
it was not easy to satisfy myself that he was alone,
but such was undoubtedly the case, and since then
I have had many opportunities of proving it.

The Wood Hen, or ' Weka,' is a common bird
about the size of a hen, but more ugly. Its legs
are placed very far back, and look strong enough
to carry a body double its size. It possesses
some small, useless wings, and so is obliged to
trust to its thick legs, which are extremely active
at times. It is rather pleasant to hear them in
the evening, when they begin their squeaks, which
certainly resemble the noise that might proceed
from a giant guinea-pig. They generally keep
on all night, answering one another.

My New Zealand Garden 73

Our Wild Pigeon is a very handsome bird with
coloured plumage and white breast, two or three
sizes larger than the English Wood Pigeon.
They are easily shot, and are very good eating,
especially in autumn, when berries, which con-
stitute their chief food, are plentiful.

CHAPTER X

WE cannot be too thankful that the great
plague scare which took possession of us
here ended in nothing more serious than the in-
disposition of one flea on one rat, and the good
result of it all is that we are left very much
cleaner. Everyone's premises underwent a good
scraping — in fact, the inspectors carried out their
duties with such vigilance that one gentleman
was deprived of all his leaf-mould for potting, it
being voted a suspicious-looking heap. We are
comparatively free from epidemics, and we have
not many indigenous ills other than human. I
want, however, to relate the bad as well as the
good traits of our rising English offshoot, but
when I come to put them in the scales together
the advantages often outweigh the drawbacks.

Those who live here, and love country life, will
agree with me that the absence of snakes is no
small item in a list of blessings, for their presence
would almost be the death of excursions to the
Bush, ferning, etc. They seem so undesirable,
74

My New Zealand Garden 75

apart from their venom, and one can only hope
that the Acclimatization Society will ever look
upon it in the same light ; and surely no private
individual would smuggle them here and turn
them lose surreptitiously. I am afraid their
appearance is only a question of time, for one or
two from Australia have already presented them-
selves. One arrived among the straw in a case of
wine but in an instance of that sort they can
hardly escape detection.

We have one small venomous Spider, the
' Katipo,' but as it is not in the least aggressive,
and is branded on the back with a red stripe, it is
easily avoided, particularly as it only inhabits
drift or dry wood which has been washed up by
the sea and lifted above high-water mark. One
other obnoxious-looking thing that we have is a
Centipede about 3 inches long ; but its bark is
worse than its bite, for it is quite harmless. I
was interested to dig one up on its nest of eggs
recently ; these were about ten in number and the
same size as snail's eggs, though hardly so white.
The cabbage-white butterfly, wasps, and hornets,
we are thus far free from, nor have I seen an
earwig, which used to be such a drawback to
picking a Dahlia in childhood, but bluebottles
and small flies are too plentiful. Possibly bac-
teria are not as deleterious here as elsewhere, for
a servant remarked to her mistress lately : ' I have

76 My New Zealand Garden

not seen any of them microbes about yet.' Her
ignorance was bliss, and perhaps best left undis-
turbed than made foolishly wise by microscopes.

It is a subject of congratulation for the rising
generation that periodical doses of that awful
concoction rhubarb and magnesia have been
superseded by more palatable medicines. Its
dreaded fumes pervaded the nursery precincts far
and wide by the time it was properly mixed.
Then the nurse might be seen to waver as to
whether she would add peppermint-water, which
was supposed to make it more swallowable, but,
on the other hand, increased the quantity to be
got down. In fact, one's cup was full, and one
had to drink it. However, the more mixture, the
more yells, spuming, and want of breath, for one's
nose was squeezed several degrees harder than it
should have been, but whether only in the ex-
citement of the struggle, or to pay one out for
the noise, no child could say. Unlike the man
who hated the French so much that he would not
grow French Beans, Rhubarb is plentiful with us.
This unpleasant reminiscence of childhood brings
up another to my mind — I mean the sleight-of
hand dentist — and although this chapter is sup-
posed to deal with garden pests, I must introduce
him here. This iron-hearted man convinced us
that he held no cruel instrument in his hand, and
only wanted to look into our mouth, when, as our

My New Zealand Garden 77

head was seized from behind, the cold forceps
came down his sleeve and, in our frenzy our
mischievous hands would break loose, and, were
it not for the short time at their disposal, they
would certainly have had something to answer for.
A short space of time was allowed us to brood
over the agony and gross deception practised upon
us, and all was peace once more. The dentist
received his fee, and we our half-crown — not
because we had been good, but because it had
been promised to us if we would go and have the
tooth out. Such torture would almost incline one
to patronize the American dentist, who, when his
patient entered, remarked to his assistant, ' Stun
him, Bill !'

The curriculum of New Zealand garden
' pleasures ' must include blight, and opinions are
divided as to the worst enemy we have to contend
against. The Codlin Moth plays dreadful tricks
with our fruit-trees. Its modiis operandi is to lay
the egg in the blossom, so that without much
further trouble it finds itself growing away in the
middle of the apple, where it plays high jinks,
and down falls the fruit half-size. The Physian-
thus, or Moth-catching Plant, acts splendidly, and
lately I found four moths securely held by their
tongues in one blossom, and two or three in
many more, but, unfortunately, when the Codlin
Moth is out and about, the Physianthus is not.

78 My New Zealand Garden

Syringing with Paris-green has to be resorted to
when the trees are in blossom, and is, I believe, a
sure preventive. The Leech, or a kind of slug- worm,
makes its appearance very regularly on the leaves
of the pear and plum. It skims off the surface
of the leaf, and every one would soon be brown if
its course were not impeded with a syringe and
solution of hellebore and water, which at once
puts an end to its pranks, making its food so
bitter that it prefers to go without. In about half
an hour there is a visible change for the worse in
its glistening brown skin. It has the most dis-
agreeable scent, and no bird, however bent on
blight destruction, would be likely to venture his
olfactory apparatus within sampling distance. I
suppose the mildness of our climate rather favours
obnoxious creatures, as they can pass through the
winter in safety. The snails make only a thin
covering for hibernating, and the worms do not
trouble to go down very deep to escape the frosts.
Dumb animals are far from being satisfactory
adjuncts to a garden, but my affectionate tom-
cats are very fond of watching me at work,
though if I am not watching them they are full of
evil tricks, and their gymnastic exercises invari-
ably take place on some forbidden spot. Nothing
seems to please them better than playing, which
play soon becomes a sparring match with a choice
plant, such as a heath, between them. They look

My New Zealand Garden 79

at each other through it, which acts as an incen-
tive to begin in earnest. Then comes the destruc-
tive stage when they lie down and kick, and the
poor plant is shattered ; only a storm in a teapot
to a disinterested looker-on, but there flashes
through me an unhallowed twinge, scarcely re-
pressible, whilst the cats scamper with lightning
speed. Now some of my best plants have to
wear a piece of wire-netting round them. It is
an eyesore, but it is better to be sure than sorry,
and it keeps off any stray hare who occasionally
looks round to see what tit-bits he can find.

There is some protection round almost all the
garden, but one evening a hare came in through
the gate who evidently was not well up in the
surroundings; for, getting frightened, he made a
dash to the opposite side, but finding wooden
palings there, he made one final, fatal dash in
another direction into some wire-netting, which
checkmated him, and resulted in his breaking his
neck. Animals have self-preservation implanted
in them so strongly that sometimes, I hope, they
appear to suffer more than they really do. A pig
makes more noise when he is caught than when
the knife is in such close proximity to his jugular
artery that he must be aware the operation has
commenced. I have seen this illustrated from
the nursery windows. I am afraid I resembled
the little girl who, being asked if she had enjoyed

8o My New Zealand Garden

her day in the country, said : ' It was just lovely !
I saw two pigs killed and a gentleman buried.'
Even this coincidence, like everything else, might
have been worse, for one pig only might have
been killed, and two gentlemen buried, or one pig
buried and two gentlemen killed. But with all
due respect for the fate of these gentlemen, they
have no business here among dead animals ; so I
hope, without unseemly haste, I can resume the
subject and refer to rats. I must record a most
hideous thing that they did one night. It was
not beyond the task of one cowardly rodent, so
probably only one was implicated in the dastardly
deed. The culprit crept sufficiently far under a
hen with a brood of chickens five weeks old, to
gnaw off the feet of two of them, and a lamentable
sight met our eyes next morning, for those poor
footless things came to their breakfast balancing
themselves along upon their stumps as best they
could. They plainly showed that they had passed
a bad night, but they proceeded to feed with the
others until they were despatched out of their
misery.

I cannot bear to see animals suffer now, and I
would rather walk any distance than sit behind
horses which are unfit for or unequal to their
work. It is a subject of inward rejoicing to me
that the Bible says, ' A righteous man regardeth
the life of his beast,' for it must have modified or

My New Zealand Garden 81

averted the ill-treatment of many poor creatures.
As usual, the love of money is exemplified in this
use, or rather abuse, of horses ; for there must be
gross covetousness and greed to sit with whip
and reins and add to the torture that those useful,
patient, hard-working, noble slaves endure at the
hands of their cruel drivers. If people when
hiring vehicles would, when possible, select them
according to the condition of the horse, much
would be done towards the amelioration of their
sufferings.

Animals repay one for kindness, and unless pets
are well treated I do not think that much pleasure
is to be derived from them, for their many curious
and intelligent ways are checked, and you never
see them. Indeed, to bring out their character
properly, and to gain their confidence, they should
be rather spoilt. I don't think chastisement is of
any use when the pet is sly and deep. Cats will
watch their opportunity, and so will collie dogs,
as I know to my cost ; and since my acquaintance
with them, it is easy to believe that, after killing
sheep, they have been known to wash themselves
in a pond before going home. We parted with
ours for a far less heinous crime in the eyes of
the world, though I pronounced it an unpardonable
offence, and deserving of transportation at least.
We saw in the garden, in the centre of a large
mixed border, one of the biggest holes that could

82 My New Zealand Garden

have been excavated in one night without tools.
It was large enough to receive a full-sized wheel-
barrow, and deeper than would have been required
for that purpose. All were thunderstruck at the
size of the mysterious cavern, and all were mysti-
fied. Had the gardener gone mad and spent his
night in scraping ? The horse could not scrape,
nor the cow, and I did not garden in my sleep,
diving down after subsoil. Someone suggested
strange dogs, but why and wherefore should they
pay us a nocturnal visit, and spend it in such an
undertaking ? Every plant was covered for yards
round with the earth which had been burrowed
out, and underneath were all the shattered plants
which had occupied the unfortunate spot. I
could have howled. Only about half of my
precious mould could be collected for refilling the
hole, for earth always mysteriously disappears on
such occasions. So more good soil was brought,
and all made firm, and replanted as well as could be
expected. It was a heart-rending plot, both mine
and the dog's, and it gave us a hard morning's
work to restore it to anything like decent order.
But that such a calamitous event occurred only
once in a lifetime no one doubted. The nine
days' wonder had not expired before I stood
aghast, looking at another excavation of the same
size and pattern, on the same border, and only a
few yards away from the last. Despair darted

My New Zealand Garden 83

through me as I darted after the collie, calling
him peremptorily. He came in a Uriah Heepish
sort of way, and I examined his front feet. There
was nothing suspicious, they were rather clean.
Perhaps he had washed his hands ; however, the
verdict went against him, so I undertook to
watch. I did not intend to sit out all night, so I
fervently hoped that the excavator's plans would
be in accordance with my own wishes. And
sure enough they were ; for on the fourth evening,
when it was getting dark, I just descried him,
about twenty yards away, selecting another spot.
I let him begin, and then — well, I caught him, and
he caught it. The most remarkable thing about
it all, next to the size of the holes, was that he
should have known, as I suppose he did, where
the deepest-made soil in the garden was, for he
chose the only spot where it was 5 feet deep. He
was a dog who never did things by halves, but by
' holes,' so we gave him away, bad character and
all. He was deceitful past endurance, and I hope
for all sakes that he met with the proverbially
sad fate reserved for dogs with bad names. He
should have been buried in the hole which he
had made, with this epitaph :

' Here lies a bad doggie who lied, with aplomb of degraded

humanity,

And smiled with capacious sweet smiles, to cloak his mis-
deeds with urbanity.

6—2

84 My New Zealand Garden

This grave where he lies is self-made ; 'twas an elfish design

of the night.
That he might have done worse it is true, for he's now out

of mind, out of sight.'

His only successor was a cocker-spaniel, whose
digestion did not wait on appetite, I suppose, for
whenever he received a good-sized morsel, he must
needs deposit it under one of my plants, and he
annihilated my most beautiful pansy by his horrid
time-honoured custom. I have watched his strong
nose replacing the earth over his tit-bit, and always
stole it when he was out of sight, to try and teach
him that his larder was not a ' safe ' place in one
sense. However, this only made matters worse,
as he redoubled his energies to find his bone. He
was well bred, and his beautiful long, silky ears
took him three first prizes ; but at last somebody
took him, for he would roam about the town by
himself, until, I suppose, someone could resist
him no longer. He had a wonderful mechanical
laugh, or grin, to show his pleasure on seeing us,
when he returned home after his rambles, and, on
the whole, he deserved a good reference on his
final departure. A large lizard was a contem-
porary pet with him, but he was far too much like
a young crocodile, both in size and shape, to be
pleasant. Snails were his favourite diet, and he
had to have them all cracked for him, which was
a terrible drawback. His inabilitv to crack them

My New Zealand Garden 85

for himself I found out almost too late. He was
in charge of the handy-man, who fed him con-
scientiously every day. My visits to this * pet '
reptile were very few and far between, in fact, I
left him severely alone ; but on looking into his
cage one day, I beheld him in a starving condition,
and I was on the verge of accusing his keeper
with cruelty to animals. I felt sure that the man
had not imitated the Greek philosopher, who
thought that he could by degrees accustom his
donkey to live without food, and just as he had
nearly triumphed the donkey died ; so on further
investigation I saw that the roof of this hermit's
den was encrusted with snails : they had crawled
to the top, and he had fasted because he could or
would not crack them. I commenced a slaughter
of them at once, and he devoured seven or eight
with great relish, and his well-filled larder lasted
for some time. I was told that if he were to
bite us, the only way to make him leave go
would be to chop off his head. So I took the
liberty of leaving his cage open one evening,
and I hope he lives miles away. I had made a
former attempt to set him free, but he was
retrieved by the cocker-spaniel and reinstated in
his den.

It is surprising what we witness when things are
under our own care, and the amount of interest
and knowledge we gain by common objects in the

86 My New Zealand Garden

garden. I really pity people who live in ' flats ' or
pensions to save themselves the trouble of house-
keeping and gardening, securing to themselves
absolutely nothing to do, and allowing the many
interesting revelations of Nature to slide by
unknown.

CHAPTER XI

AMONG native trees indigenous to this island
the Metrosideros family are the most
splendid. Their crimson flowers, like the scarlet
Flowering Gum of Australia, are almost entirely
composed of brilliant scarlet stamens, whose
colour produces a splendid effect. They flower
very freely quite at the extremity of the branches,
so that they almost cover the tree. They are
called the Christmas-tree because they flower
about that time. I have not seen the forests of
M. robusta, mentioned by the late Professor Kirk,
who says that they are too dazzling to behold
when the sun shines upon them. But one or two
good specimens in full flower are a sight not to
be forgotten. M. tomentosa (Pohutukawa), which
grow at the edge of the Auckland Harbour, are
a truly beautiful sight. They are large trees, with
their roots in the salt water ; and Mr. Froude, in
his book on New Zealand, says that oysters cling
to their roots. I planted sixteen of them just
about sixteen years ago, which now vary from
87

88 My New Zealand Garden

12 to 20 feet high, and flower well. They have
sent out roots for some distance up their stems,
so perhaps they are fishing for oysters on the
drive, and will have the same sport that the White
Knight had with his mouse-trap on horseback in
'Alice through the Looking-Glass.' The Rata
proper (M. robusta) makes excellent fuel, and is
used quite as much as coals, especially for cooking.
M. florida, with its white relative (albaflora), are
the chief climbers of the family, and top the most
lofty trees in the Bush, the red giving a splendid
effect in this neighbourhood, but the white is more
confined to the Bay of Islands. M. lucida (the
Southern Rata) revels in the cold of the South,
where the whole sides of high mountains may be
seen coated with its brilliant inflorescence. I was
determined to try one specimen here, but have
only its death to record. A yellow Metrosideros
has actually been seen, according to the best
authorities. How I should like to possess it !
and why nurserymen do not I can't understand.
The spot where it grows is well known, and though
quite among the Maoris and out of the radius of
catalogues, surely seeds and cuttings could be pro-
cured ; and if I were a man I would stride off and
try my luck this very minute. I have only just
realized that there is such a great curiosity
among us.

Clematis indivisa, clinging about on trees in the

My New Zealand Garden 89

Bush and hanging in snowy wreaths and clusters
in early spring, never fails to attract the attention
of all, and is in great request for the decoration of
rooms ; but as it often scrambles up to the height
of 30 feet, it is rather beyond the grasp of the
flower-seeker.

Leptospermum scoparium, usually called ' Manuka,'
is our commonest shrub or small tree. Acres of
waste ground are often covered with young plants,
their myrtle-like flowers giving a very pretty effect.
I had the good fortune to find a red-flowered
specimen, which is very rare. Of course, I con-
veyed it to my garden, where, under its altered
circumstances, I am glad to say, it still retains its
rich colour.

Meryta Sindairii is a very bold foliaged small
tree, and although not actually a New Zealand
plant, it must not escape mention here. In Auck-
land, where it is very much planted, it attains to
the height of 20 or 30 feet. It is said to be one
of the rarest trees in the world, and, according to
the late Professor Kirk, has larger leaves than any
of the New Zealand flora. My plant died in an
unusually hard frost when only 9 feet high. I was
deeply grieved at its death, because, although they
belong to an adjacent island to the north, I had
just seen one of these trees flourishing and quite
20 feet high in Wellington. Alas ! I had omitted
to protect mine.

90 My New Zealand Garden

Eleocarpus dentatus, which flourishes especially
well near Wellington, is so much like Clethra
arborea that it almost takes an expert to tell the
difference between them. But, judging by the
specimens which I have seen, Clethra arborea looks
the superior plant, being richer in flower and
foliage. But it is curious that two plants belong-
ing to different families and countries should be
so nearly alike. They are quite twin ' duxes.'

The Hoheria populnea is a beautiful, small tree,
fit for any garden, and it seems to do well in them
all. Its pretty foliage and snow-white flowers
render it a favourite native tree. Its vernacular
names are ' Ribbon Wood ' and ' Lace Bark,' for
when the bark is pulled off and cut into strips
it reminds one of insertion lace. Beautiful little
ornamental baskets are made of it, and even trim-
mings for hats. It has »yet another name of
' Thousand Jackets,' owing to the number of lace-
like layers of bark.

Corynocarpus levigata, or Karaka, sometimes
called the ' New Zealand Laurel,' makes a fine
large evergreen tree 40 feet high. It has dark,
shiny leaves, which contrast well with its long
yellow berries. They are poisonous when raw,
but the Maoris eat them after they have been
soaked or steamed. I had rather a horror of the
tree on first acquaintance, having been told that,
even when they recovered from its deadly effects,

My New Zealand Garden 91

the poison of the berries had been known to
leave disastrous results on Maori children, who,
unless buried up to their necks, with their limbs
in proper position, until the effects of the poison
had passed off, remained distorted for life. I
never actually knew an instance of any child
being so poisoned by them, and probably this,
like many other Maori legends, may require a
little salt. Fortunately, the berries have a nasty
flavour and are bitter. The trees are slow
growers, and require careful transplantation.

Olearia Forsteri is a very pretty evergreen with
peculiar soft, light-green leaves which are so wavy
at the edges that they almost resemble frills. It
makes a splendid hedge, as it does not want
much trimming, and the foliage sets itself very
prettily. It has short panicles of greenish yellow
flowers, crowded with insignificant-looking little
florets. Mine grow beautifully on a hot dry bank
in the full sun, where they must often be dust
dry at the roots. The spot is so hot that before
they were large enough to shade themselves they
must have had to put up with warm dust some-
times. They will grow 20 feet high, and I have
seen them acting in the capacity of a hedge
foliaged down to the ground. Some of the
Olearias only grow well in the extreme south.
O. angustifolia, which is by far the most beautiful,
with large bunches of mauve, daisy-like flowers,

92 My New Zealand Garden

grows there to perfection; I saw them doing
fairly well in Dunedin also, but mine dwindled
away. Clianthus punicens (Parrot's Beak) is the
most gaudy-looking plant possible, here in its
native land. Its flame-coloured flowers hang in
masses, and it does well either as a standard or
on a trellis. It grows to about 5 feet high in good
situations. The New Zealand Laburnum (Sophora
tetraptera, Yellow Kowhai) is a splendid deep
yellow, with much larger flowers and calix than
the English Laburnum. The flowers usually
appear before the leaves, which is unfortunate,
as they are rather massive-looking flowers and
require their greenery to set them off. I have
seen one specimen with the foliage well out with
the flowers, which left nothing to be desired.
S. grandiflora is the best, and is, I believe, the
one that has flowers and foliage together.

Acacia dealbata (Shittim Wood) is another bright
yellow tree, 20 feet high, and in early spring
smothered with flowers, and with its delicate
blue-green, feathery foliage, nothing can be prettier.
I should not have allowed it to trespass among
New Zealand trees, for it belongs more to tropical
countries, but better to be here than left out alto-
gether, so I let it remain.

Cordyline indtvisa, the handsomest of all the
Cabbage-tree family, seems to pine for colder
regions on our mountains, where it belongs. In

My New Zealand Garden 93

hot summers mine threatens to die, but perks
up again in the winter. Its soft blue-green leaves,
1 1 yards long and 6 inches wide, with a broad
brown stripe down the middle, surely places it at
the head of all bold foliage plants. The flowers
are also very ornamental and grand, hanging down
in bluish racimes nearly a yard long. My plant is
about 9 feet high, but I hear of them 20 feet, and
very much more robust, in their proper habitat.

A curious and well-meaning Bush tree is Pisonia
Brunoniana. The outside of its seed-pods are
covered with a fatally sticky kind of bird-lime,
which is very attractive to insects, but woe to
that bird who tries to secure one, for surely he
will remain there for ever ! As many as twenty
tightly-fixed small birds have been seen on one
tree, and, fortunately, sparrows are among the
enticed.

CHAPTER XII

AMONG New Zealand coniferae, Dacrydium
cupressinum (the Rimu or Red Pine), in its
young state, excels all the family in beauty. An
irregular green fountain might roughly help to
describe it. Its pendulous branches coming out
from the central stem, and falling all round, from
the top to the ground, have rather that effect.
These branches, which are about the thickness of
thin rope, are covered with scales of a brilliant
green. They are always looked upon as the
handsomest forest trees, and although they are
very pretty almost from their cradle, about 12 feet
high is the prettiest size, and I believe they are
rather stationary in growth at about that age, as
if trying to prolong their most beautiful stage.
The wood of the Rimu is very satisfactory, and is
used almost exclusively for building in this locality.
Perhaps the reader wants to know why we live
chiefly in wooden houses, and there are, or were,
good reasons for it. The material is plentiful,
the houses are very quickly built, they are much
94

My New Zealand Garden 95

cheaper, and are safer in the case of a shock of
earthquake, which we occasionally get. But now
that plenty of bricks are being manufactured, brick
is gradually supplanting wood. The rapidity with
which a wooden structure is put up is astonishing.
Small, prettily-finished houses can be built in two
months, when once the wood has been seasoned
by exposure to the air after it has been cut into
boards. Some of our villas are extremely pretty,
and, if sanded over, have all the effect of stone.
But they are usually painted in quiet tints, and
when a house gets shabby, a fresh coat of paint
makes it look new again.

Agathis Australis (Kauri) is the largest New
Zealand tree ; some giants, which are over 20 feet
in diameter, are supposed to be about four thousand
years old. They exude that valuable and wonder-
ful product ' Kauri gum,' which is found in the
Kauri forests near Auckland, from a few inches
below the surface of the ground down to several
feet. The wage of the gum-digger is very low, as
skilled labour is not necessary, so that it supplies
work for anyone who is industriously inclined.
The gum, when polished, looks exactly like amber,
varying just the same in colour, and the longer
it has been underground the darker it becomes.
It is cut into various little ornaments, and large
lumps of it are in museums. It is an indis-
pensable ingredient in making resin. The wood

g6 My New Zealand Garden

of the Kauri is exceptionally good for building
in every way, and is very durable, and in Auck-
land little else is used for that purpose. The trees
are quite confined to the North, but I brought a
young one away from its proper latitude just to
try. After acquiring the height of 9 or 10 feet,
and nearly ripening its first cones, it succumbed
to its surroundings. Too big to move, like its
neighbour the Rimu, it had but ' Hobson's
choice,' to die there or to come out and do it.
It was very interesting through all its associations
during its sojourn with us. Its leathery-looking
leaves give it a curious appearance, especially the
young shoots, which are completely brown.

Lebocedrus doniana is another beautiful tree
which belongs strictly to the North, and gradually
perished here.

The Podocarpus (Totara) supplies very valuable
timber, ranking next to the Kauri. Posts cut from
the heart of it will last in the ground for thirty
years. Some of our woods will last an incredible
time in the ground. There is a small thin post
in the garden which weighs as much as if it were
made of stone, and which has successfully resisted
both nails and staples, all of which it turned : not
one would enter. This wood is called the Black
Maire (one of the Oleas), and is almost black in
colour, and whilst I was trying to pierce it with
hammer and nails I perceived a small red streak

My New Zealand Garden 97

trickling down it, and my fingers had not suffered
such agony since the rat-trap adventure. I can
recommend this wood as absolutely impenetrable,
and everlastingly a Passive Resister.

A kind of Protea, commonly called Honey-
suckle, without any good reason at all — a la
Cabbage-tree — forms a bold and beautiful pattern
when cut on the cross, and, cut either slanting
or with the grain, it is exceedingly pretty. The
Fuchsia, which really is a Fuchsia, is another
which is quite as much admired by some, with its
black markings on a rich yellowish ground, and
there are many more, equally pretty, all of which
make a tempting display in the cabinet-makers'
windows.

Among exotic things worth having are the
Proteas, or Cape Tulips — handsome shrubs, with
large tulip-shaped flowers. P. filifera is a very
light pink in colour, and unless it is a good one
of its kind, it is more like a bad white. It does
not open more than half-way, and has quite a
network of stamens, etc., inside, which have the
appearance of preventing the flower from opening
further. There is a very grand variety, with
claret-coloured blossoms, which open wide and
are 8 or 9 inches across !

Leucadendron argenteum (Silver-tree), of South
Africa, belongs to the Protea tribe, and its ver-
nacular name describes it. Nothing can be more

7

98 My New Zealand Garden

effective in a shrubbery, or as a single specimen-
Its leaves are quite slippery with its soft, shining
down ; I have seen them pressed and painted
upon for book-marks. They seldom grow much
more than 20 or 30 feet high, and require good
soil. I, unfortunately, put mine near Pine-trees
for shelter, and they died, prematurely, 6 or 8 feet
high, having a poverty-stricken appearance all
their lives.

Benthamia fragifera looks the picture of health
and beauty, and is a most valuable tree. It is
first laden with soft, lemon-coloured flowers, suc-
ceeded by a fine crop of ornamental fruit like
huge strawberries, which remind one of the straw-
berry pin-cushions we used to make for bazaars,
with pins to represent the seeds. Fortunate1;-,
the majority of birds find the berries too disagree-
able to touch, so that they remain for a long time
unmolested in their beauty.

Banksia grandis is a large, handsome shrub
12 feet high, although, according to Mr. Paxton,
it should have stopped at 3 feet. The stiff leaves
are so deeply serrated that the lobes meet the
mid-rib. The leaves are i foot long and 3 inches
wide, and are prettily arranged in rosette fashion
round the great cone-shaped flowers, composed of
stiff stamens, which are pale yellow.

Paullinia imperialis grows to a fine tree, and
more rapidly than any other. One of mine made

My New Zealand Garden 99

a shoot ii inches in circumference and 20 feet
long in about eighteen months.

Brachychiton asserifolia, one of the Sterculias
(Australian Flame-tree), is, indeed, a blaze when
it flowers. It divests itself of its leaves for the
occasion, in order, it is said, to make room for the
flowers, with which it becomes packed. I saw one,
in Auckland, long past its best, and in places there
could have been no room for leaves. It was about
40 feet high. The owner told me that their best
specimen was taking a rest after an overflow of
inflorescence the previous summer. Mine is about
20 feet high, with dense foliage of leaves, which
are rather like fig-leaves in size and shape. If
these are all to come off, which seems a great
undertaking, there will be no opportunity of
judging how the foliage suits the flower. When-
ever a good leaf is discarded now, I hope the tree
is going to undress and don its smart robes,
and I have long prepared for the great event by
planting white flowering subjects next, to prevent
clashing of colour.

A loe arboreum makes a beautiful large plant here,
often over 4 feet high, and as much across, with
a spike of glowing red flowers coming out of
every whorl of its fleshy recurved leaves. The
edges are rather too prickly to dive one's hands
into to capture snails, so on wet days I intercept
them in their walks. I used to keep ducks for

7—2

ioo My New Zealand Garden

this work, but, as many have found before, a
mutual affection always exists between us, which
makes it very awkward and unpleasant when
killing time comes, for their deaths have been on
the tapis ever since they were hatched. They get
too heavy to go on the plants, nor do I think that
it improves things to be ferreted and joggled under
so often ; besides, they dirty the paths, so now
I take out a lantern some evenings and soon do
the work of a pair of ducks. I have found my
ducks with their crops taxed to their utmost with
green Gooseberries before breakfast, and it made
me quite envious of their iron constitutions, which
are able to defy such injudicious diet ; with the
omission in my case of not desiring sour Goose-
berries at such an hour, although we do enjoy
large ' crops ' of them in season and within
reason. These same ducks plundered the Straw-
berry-beds, and devoured everything that they
fancied, within their reach, although their for-
bidden luxuries were, of course, mixed with snails,
and, to my astonishment, these even when whole
and full grown were not beyond their capabilities.

CHAPTER XIII

FLOWER-SHOWS were among the few gala
days in the past. In fact, they were the
only out-of-door public enjoyments that I can
remember ; and they were well attended, as
flower-shows should be. Here we had ices and
heard one of the best bands play ; but the penalty
was smart clothes. My brothers had long white
trousers, which allowed of no romping, and
I had a starched muslin frock, with the raw, stiff
edges of the seams acting on my neck and arms
like a saw. But in spite of this irritation, I can
distinctly remember being spell-bound in front of
pyramids of Lapagerias in pots, and ever since
I have experienced a hankering after them more
than any other flower. But my readers will
endorse it when I say that we do not always
get what we want, and I never had any until
about seventeen years ago. Before I got them,
I asked a friend if she had ever grown them.
She said she sowed them every year, but added,
that if I didn't look out they would run over every-
thing ! It was a bad mistake of hers, because

102 My New Zealand Garden

when I went to buy a packet of Lapageria
seed in our small town I found it unprocur-
able ; however, I had a plant of both the white
and red sent to me from Australia, and a pretty
dance they led me, or rather we led each other,
for years. They scoffed at my efforts to please
them in the greenhouse, where they never should
have been, so out they went into a hot, sunny
spot and suffered relapse upon relapse, until the
jaws of death were gaping for them. Then up
they came, and into a tub of water to be washed
in order that they might make a fresh start with
clean roots, and that I might make sure that no
evil beast was devouring them. Nothing was
the matter, so, having read up their proper
treatment— especially their great hatred of any
disturbance at the root — I bore them off to
a good rich, deep, well-drained bed, in partial
shade, and they are the identical, flourishing pair
of * duxes ' previously introduced to the reader.
(This plural should have been applied to all my
floral pairs, as more endearing though less correct.)
Unlike the lady's warning to beware of sowing the
seed, an experienced amateur gardener told me
that I should not be able to succeed in growing
it at all, and though I have implicit faith in his
opinion, I am glad to say that he is wrong just for
once, for seedlings from my own pair of ' duxes '
are a foot high and one year old. I picked the

My New Zealand Garden 103

pod when it looked ripe, and sowed the seed at
once, and in two months up came the tiny pets.
I think the lady who told me of her great success
with them must have expended her skill on
Scarlet Runners.

Flower-viewing parties, which the Japs have,
sound very delightful, and could be made full of
instruction among real garden-lovers. We could
take pencils and paper and write down the names
of things we liked, making notes regarding their
culture. We could exchange cuttings and seeds
then and there, instead of promising them and
forgetting all about it. We could compare our
experiences, get hints, and get rid of mistakes, and
thus all learn and teach something. The difficulty
of issuing invitations would be great, and might
result in a large garden-party in a small garden.
Perhaps, however, if the conversation were re-
stricted to gardening it would prevent overcrowd-
ing ; but who would set a watch upon our tongues ?
Not even the aforesaid paid garden expert would
undertake it ! In fact, I am afraid that the nice
idea must drop, so far away from the Flowery
Land.

I sowed the stone of a common Date (Phoenix
dactylifera) ten years ago, and the plant is now
nearly 5 feet high — only a little smaller than the
twenty-five-year-old Nikau Palm. It has just
bade farewell to its flower-pot, and thrives in

104 My New Zealand Garden

a shady flower border well away from the baneful
influence of Pinus insignis, and there it will brave
any New Zealand winter that comes.

Josephus mentions a grove of these Palms in
Jericho, seven miles long, running from Bethany
(House of Dates) to the top of Mount Olivet,
when Palestine was the land of Palms — now a
thing of the past.

A sweet little booklet has just reached us con-
taining twelve pressed flowers from that blessed
land, gathered and pressed by the Rev. Harvey B.
Greene, B.D., with some information regarding
and some Biblical reference to each flower. They
are most beautifully done, and the colours quite
fresh. It is awe-inspiring as well as delightful to
look at these real flowers, actually gathered in
Palestine, and to think how near our Saviour's feet
must have gone to some of them, perhaps even
pressed them, and how often His eyes must
have rested upon them. Really lovable flowers,
stimulating our best feelings and making us feel
nearer to Him ; what pleasure they will give to
many loving souls ! Flowers and trees are one of
God's blessings to us. We read in Isaiah that
trees in plenty and luxuriance symbolize God's
blessing; the absence of them the contrary —
desolation and degradation ; and the degraded
state of many treeless countries visibly sub-
stantiates the fact. Balaam likened the striped

My New Zealand Garden 105

tents of the Israelites, in their arrangement, to a
'field which the Lord had blessed,' prosperous
in its full sense — characterized by success, with
hopes fulfilled, thriving, flourishing — glowing with
all the flowers which He made, and left to us
as emblems of Himself, reflecting His perfections,
as mementoes to tend and cherish and to imitate
in setting forth His glory. Such treasures ! They
have life ; we can learn of them ; we can see their
character coming out from the heart of the bulb ;
we can bring up our children by them : first the
blade, then the ear, that the full corn in the
ear may glorify Him. Alas ! our rising generation
(who should have been grounded in the faith on
the true foundation) go out into the world with
their heads stuffed with secular education in the
State schools, many of them convinced that the
Bible is an out-of-date old book, and they boast
of their up-to-date, vain, new-fangled ways ! A
Gourd climbed up a Palm and said : ' How old
are you ?' ' One hundred years,' said the Palm.
'Then I have out-topped you in one single
season,' said the Gourd contemptuously. Replied
the Palm : ' You will do more than that in one
season — you will die.'

CHAPTER XIV

OUR Maori population, who are supposed to be
of Polynesian extraction— as their dialect
indicates — seem to have been established here for
about five hundred years, and are a most interest-
ing people. Hospitable and generous to a degree,
honest and upright, so were they described by our
first missionary, Mr. Marsden. They look it, too,
with their fat, jolly faces, set off with good real
teeth, the secret of which one would gladly know.
It may, however, belong to back generations of
unsophisticated lives, simplicity of diet, and free-
dom from care and worry, which their whole
aspect betokens. The fat wives are not weighed
down by domestic duties, if any there be, other
than wearing a very good baby tied on behind.
They share their husbands' tobacco, and are not too
timid to frequent the hotels to quench their thirst.
There is a theory that their good teeth are due
to the rough and severe mastication imposed upon
them in the past, and that our teeth disappear
through want of something to do. We eat such
106

My New Zealand Garden 107

thoroughly prepared food that their services are
scarcely required. This sounds to me more prob-
able than that, as some maintain, they have imbibed
from the soil or water something of a preservative
nature. Possibly the natives did not over-indulge
in vinegar, which in its action upon the teeth
the Book of Proverbs uses as a symbol of some-
thing unpleasant and harmful — ' as vinegar to
the teeth and as smoke to the eyes.' That they
have good appetites I know, from what I have
witnessed at a Maori feast, where some of the
ladies were helped in buckets instead of plates,
and did ample justice to the contents. Consider-
ing what a huge repast it was, the gentlemen
indulged in a very moderate siesta before giving
us a war-dance. Cinematographs probably show
these dances now, but not the accompanying
snorts and ejaculations, and the thundering of
their powerful, well-timed stamping. The women
go through a pretty and curious performance called
the ' poi ' dance. Its chief feature is the excellent
time that they keep with their * pois,' or inflated
bladders, held by strings and thrown about with
the utmost precision to their weird, droning
notes.

One does not now see much nose-rubbing for
' How do you do ?' — at least, in the towns — but a
very mechanical shake of the hands instead. Their
dress is more or less European. The women often

io8 My New Zealand Garden

wear elastic-side boots without stockings, and a
shawl over a gaudy-coloured skirt, and they are
equally fond of a really bright-coloured blanket.
These articles of clothing are made in startling
colours and patterns expressly to suit their taste.
Occasionally some may be seen dressed quite
correctly, but many old ones adhere to their native
fashions. We found them rather amusing cus-
tomers at a bazaar on one occasion, for they
bought bright-coloured antimacassars and arranged
them on each other's shoulders, and most of their
purchases were put to the wrong use.

As an instance of their hospitality, I have
known them to insist upon walking tourists
eating their ready-prepared dinner, to which
they themselves were on the verge of sitting
down, and, furthermore, providing them with
new blankets at night, kept especially for the
accommodation of strangers, and they would feel
quite hurt at any remuneration being offered them
in return. It is difficult to associate such good
feeling with the cannibalism of a few generations
back. I privately suspect them of having eaten
up the great moas, whose eggs and bones are in
all museums, which bones, when fitted together,
look almost as tall as a giraffe, and the eggs as big
as pint jugs. I am sure they must have preferred
eating those giant fowls to dining off their friends
and neighbours ; they seem too pleasant and gentle

My New Zealand Garden 109

folk to have been guilty of such atrocities as
cannibalism. I like to think of them sitting down
to a roasted moa, and having a tug-of-war with
the wish-bone after dinner, with new-laid moa eggs
for breakfast, boiled in hot springs, and dished up
in egg-cups of hewn rock. Moas must have been
grand sights, but I think their skeletons are
preferable. I suppose they could have swallowed
babies whole, and no one could survive a peck on
the head. Moa-hunting might afford good sport,
and their joints give variety to the butchers' shops ;
but unless their cooked flesh surpassed that of the
ostrich, 'No moa, thank you,' would often be
heard at table. Nothing authentic has come to
light as to the date of their disappearance,
although some very old Maoris occasionally
declare it to have been quite recent ; and since
one egg has been found with the bones of a chick
in it, their statement has been more credited.
Those much-revered heirlooms called 'meres,'
which are something like huge flat, club-shaped
paper-cutters, made of greenstone, and which
were used in battle, are becoming very scarce, as
their owners so often have them buried with them.
But only a proportion go underground, as some
have been presented to celebrities by the Maoris
themselves, and some find their way into museums.
Many of these weapons are made of wood or bone,
but those made of greenstone are very costly, as

io My New Zealand Garden

well as difficult to purchase. The stone is
extremely hard to cut, which makes small orna-
ments made of it very expensive, but it is very
pretty when mounted.

Maoriland hedgerows are calculated to dis-
appoint a new-comer, for they deserve no praise
whatever. They are entirely lacking in Violets
and Primroses, and offer only a meagre selection
of wild-flowers ; but such glories belong to old-
established banks, of course. Many of our fences
are planted with gorse, so have no further attrac-
tion when their sweet-scented flowers are over. I
would like to collect in sacks all the spare flower-
seeds I could beg, borrow, or steal, and scatter our
hedgerows with them, and then see what happened.
I suppose one in a hundred might grow, and
perhaps even stand our long hot summers, when
banks must be purgatories to plant-roots. But if a
congenial spring favoured our sowings, it might
have a very happy result. It would be a pleasant
occupation for ' Arbor Day,' which was instituted
for tree-planting here, with some success for the
first year or two, and then dropped. Two sparrows
might be killed with the one stone by mixing a little
poisoned wheat with the flower-seeds. I should
like to do it ; but, to use my long uncle's favourite
quotation, ' The good that I would, I do not ;
and the evil that I would not, that I do.' Perhaps

My New Zealand Garden 1 1 1

our imaginary garden expert would like to under-
take the sprinkling of a few miles of country
when work in amateurs' gardens is slack. I
suppose farmers would have to be consulted
before the adoption of such a scheme, as seeds
might leave the hedges for fairer fields and
pastures new, and then our position might
resemble that of the man who is reported to
have introduced weeds into the rivers. They
say that he planted but one in a Cambridgeshire
river, and in time it spread and seriously inter-
fered with the boating. His name must be a
target for epithets !

Then, again, our neighbours' fowls might eat the
poisoned wheat, and so the stone intended to kill
two birds would include three, and our neighbours
might play tit for tat, for thoughtless deeds as well
as good and bad, often come home to roost, and
the whole transaction might engender strife and
hatred to ourselves, like the example before us in
the water-weed episode, which would be worse
than all. I am afraid that some of our farming
would shock a good bump of order, for farms
cannot be dressed and kept without plenty of
hands, and these take so much of the gilt off
the gingerbread that some families manage their
farms entirely themselves. Even gentlemen,
single-handed, do their own ploughing, milking,

1 1 2 My New Zealand Garden

cooking, washing, everything, with only some
help during harvest and shearing times.

I once saw a woman, quite by herself, success-
fully operating upon a crop with reaper and
binder. Perhaps she and her husband had
agreed to change places, like a couple before
them — ' You shall mind the baby, and I'll guide
the plough.' I wondered if he was getting on as
well in the house with his nursing and darning as
she was in the field. She seemed quite at home
with the machine, and was, no doubt, able to give
a good account of her day's work ; and let us
hope she had not all the housework to do on her
return ! Her costume was quite free from any-
thing that could catch in the machinery, and it
stands to reason that prevailing fashions must be
departed from for farm-work ; nor can they be
faithfully adhered to for gardening, especially as
regards skirts in wet weather. I had an ancient
friend who set a good example in the matter of
dress. During her long life she came into fashion
three times ; and she used to say that she watched
the fashions come in and go out, but she never
felt inclined to change to any of them. I remem-
ber her congratulating herself on her tight sleeves,
when her up-to-date friends were always upsetting
things on the table with their open, hanging shapes.
She had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Charlotte,

My New Zealand Garden 1 1 3

and she had seen enough fashion then to last her
for the rest of her life.

I really must cease singing the praises of this
loyal little land — so loyal that it took my gardener
off to fight the Boers suddenly, before he had
milked the cow ; but I must be allowed to reiterate
for positively the last time that I have found from
practical experience that gardening is conducive to
goodness, health, and happiness. I have realized
the necessity of weeds to keep us at our work, and
seen the pleasure and profit that the eradication
of them affords to the faintest bump of order ever
detected by phrenologists, on which bump should
be clearly decipherable, ' Dress it, and keep it.'

I have scribbled enough of our doings in our
adopted happy land, and although my account is
as lame as a tree, I am not sorry to have spoken a
word for the Embothriums and Jacarandas and
all the ' duxes,' if it will in the least degree help to
spread their fame or implant a wish in anyone to
grow them. I hope I have not boasted of garden
lore, nor flaunted my colours too high, in this
rambling and most imperfect account of all I love.
But, above all, I hope that I have not represented
the self-righteous old woman who, when told
that she seemed to think only herself and the
parson would be saved, said she was not so sure
about the parson ! I think I will go out into the

8

1 14 My New Zealand Garden

garden and contemplate the Fig-tree, which offers
the best lesson of all, and say, ' Good-bye.'

' A gardener was watching a priceless floret rare,
But missed it, notwithstanding his vigilance and care
' Who plucked that flower ?' he asked, displaying feelings

ill.

' The Master," was the answer, and the gardener was
still.'

THE END

Eltwt Stock, 62 Patcnotttr Row, London, E.C.

ANGELES

garden

FtB 4 1951

SB

U6o

NU5M9