210 THE FLORIST. 



ON THE HARDIHOOD OF THE FUCHSIA. 



The beauty at this season of the year of those Fuchsias that are 

 planted in the open ground, of which I have several, always makes 

 me think when I see a collection of them in a greenhouse that they 

 are not in their proper place. They never appear to me to shew so 

 well in pots and under glass as they do where they have more 

 freedom and greater advantages of contrast ; and my impression, 

 moreover, is, that they flower better out of doors. The form of the 

 blossom also fits them for open culture beyond that of almost any 

 other flower, by screening them from injury by rain. 



The difficulty, of course, lies in their tenderness, as it seems to 

 be taken for granted that they are totally unfitted for standing our 

 winters. Yet I remember being on a visit near Emsworth in Sussex, 

 in the autumn of 1834, and seeing a highly cultivated garden se- 

 parated from a field in which sheep were grazing by a hedgerow of 

 Fuchsias, that was as attractive to the eye in its contrasted livery of 

 green and crimson as it was useful as a servant ; for its gnarled 

 and intertwined branches were evidently as impervious to a rabbit 

 in winter as to a sheep at any time, and must have endured many 

 winters. And last year I saw a single specimen in Surrey from 

 eight to ten feet in height and twelve across, which had stood many 

 years, and was early in July in full bloom. That, however, received 

 efficient protection in winter, which the above-mentioned hedge did 

 not. 



These, however, were of kinds more hardy than the modern 

 tenants of greenhouses. Yet Serratifolia, I should think, may be 

 taken as a fair representative of the powers of endurance of these last. 

 Mr. Story says it is " decidedly tender ;" and a correspondent of 

 a floral periodical in the spring of last year, describing a specimen 

 plant he had bedded out, relates that the first frost early in October 

 destroyed it. Now I should like to know whether that frost, or all 

 the subsequent frosts of the winter, really did destroy it; for I doubt 

 the fact. I had a small plant that year in the open ground much 

 farther north, the beauty of which w^as destroyed by the same frost, 

 but it afterwards partially recovered itself, and finally died down to 

 the ground in the winter. Yet in the spring it came up again like 

 the others in my borders, and made a very handsome plant. In 

 fact, the root of the Fuchsia appears indestructible by mere frost ; 

 and even the stem and branches, if once well ripened (a difficult 

 matter, because of the lateness of its grow^), seem capable, with a 

 little assistance, such as that of dry sand or sawdust, of resisting our 

 ordinary winters as well as the Buddlea or Aloysia. 



Iota. 



