114 



IRISH GARDENlxNG. 



petals of crimson. Mrs. \\'hilela\v Reid was ot a 

 salmon-pink shade, edged with white. Duchess 

 of Portland was a g-ood red. Mrs. W. L. 

 Ainslie yellow, and Mrs. D. Paterson had pale 

 yellow flowers with rose edge. 



During the summer there is always an interest- 

 ing display of begonias in the greenhouses at 

 the Royal Botanic Gardens, Glasnevin. I had 

 the pleasure of seeing them at their best two 

 years ago. At that time the best-named sorts 

 included Marchioness of Bath, Countess Cromer, 

 and Miss Griffin — all double white flowers of 

 large size. Mr. F. W. Sinnock was a plant of 

 fine habit, w'ith flowers of deep velvety crimson. 

 Frilled Beauty and Hector were good examples 

 of the frilled section. The former had very large 

 flowers of a salmon shade, the latter a fine 

 scarlet. Comtesse O'Gorman was a double 

 yellow of immense size and good form. 



Current Topics. 



By E. KiNOWLDix, P'.R.H.S. 



"O! true and fervent are the prayers that breathe 

 Forth from the lips that pale with coming death." 



THE lines flash up when re-readingf the last of 

 those charming- articles Miss O'Brien g"ave to 

 Irish Gardeni.vg, the particular part of which, 

 pregnant with presentiment. Professor Stockley quotes 

 as a heading to the biographical notes of the gifted 

 Irishwoman (last number). .All readers are indebted to 

 Professor Stockley for the way in which he reverently 

 lifts the curtain closed over a good life, and we feel the 

 better for knowing a little more of that loveable nature. 

 One of the writer's earlier recollections is that of a 

 scrap-book with cuttings from Punch, one of which was 

 the representation of William Smith O'Brien (the lady's 

 father) as a schoolboy, being packed off to the cellar 

 with the injunction ** don't come up again vill you're a good 

 boy." (An episode in his Parliamentary career.) It 

 should not, perhaps, be mentioned here. Vet, one feels 

 on reading the brief but touching biography by Pro- 

 fessor Stocklej' — feels with him — " I wish I could but 

 hear her laughing at this little outburst. " Wish it — not 

 one but could wish it who followed her in " The Making 

 of Our Home. " To the gentle wielder of a graceful pen, 

 farewell — a long farewell ! 



.•\t last ! The centenary of Darwin's birth and jubilee 

 of" The Origin of Species," recently celebrated at Cam- 

 bridge, seems a recognition of tliose theories which 

 startled the world and were viewed by some as little 

 short of blasphemi. Well, we live and learn, each 

 generation seeing yet a little farther than its nose, and 

 perhaps the time 'vill come when we shall no longer 

 attempt to measure the infinite by our own poor, little, 

 petty standards. It has been said that " The Origin 

 of Species" upsets "The Six Days of Creation," but a 

 little reflection, surely, will eliminate all ideas of such a 

 catastrophe. 



In a bothy library we came across a book by Pro- 

 fessor Gaussen (to the best of recollection a Swiss clergy- 

 man), entitled " The Six Days of Creation," and 

 possibly published some years prior to Darwin's great 

 work, in which the writer interprets the Six Days as six 

 vast epochs of time. It was written in simple language 

 that any lad could understand, and although we left 

 that bothy and little book behind long years ago the 

 memory of it remains and its leaching has always been 

 associated with Darwin's doctrine of evolution - that is, 

 evolution of the simpler and cruder forms of life into the 

 form, law, and order as we see it to-day. Whether the 

 maternal lingual chastisement of "you young monkey," 

 or the compliment oft bestowed that so-and so is " a 

 hair\' one," has any remote connection with our own 

 ancestry we are not disposed to debate ; be that as it 

 may, Darsvin is recognised, if not universally accepted, 

 but he too, is beyond the pale of praise or blame. 



Speaking of books and bothies, by the way, in this Car- 

 negie age — and by the way, too, we thought to have 

 secured a few dollars worth from that freest library man 

 on earth for the Burbidge .Memorial Library, but failed in 

 the attempt — that first bothy was very small but very 

 snug ; Jts collection of books verj- modest, but they 

 were readable. But well we recollect in our anecdot- 

 age how all that was changed in the ne.xt bothy, a 

 comparatively palatial residence with an imposing 

 library which had been furnished with surplus volumes 

 from " the hall " — books in all tongues (Spanish, French, 

 Italian) save our own, and of all ologies save garden, 

 ology, although it may not be forgotten that our young 

 propagaters were stimulated by a first edition of Field- 

 ing's (the father of English novelists) Joseph Andrews, 

 whose virtue is historic. That, needless to say, ivas 

 in the vulgar tongue (in two senses) for which, alas ! 

 there was a strong weakness. 



The change of secretarvship in the Irish Gardeners' 

 Association (to which association the Burbidge Memorial 

 Library is attached) is now a current topic among the 

 members. Mr. Hall, who on his retirement as honorary 

 secretary for ten years, leaves it hall-marked (saving his 

 presence) with steady progress, and a sound constitution 

 has been pressed to remain, but is as emphatic as the 

 darkey waiter when repeatedly rung for — " De more dat 

 bell ring de more I won't go " — only unfortunately its the 

 other way about. But ten years honorary duties of clerical 

 work and excursion catering is, to say the least, a credit- 

 able service to Irish horticulture, and it is now the inevit- 

 able. Very pleasant, by the way, have been those ex- 

 cursions, and profitable too; "no profit is where no 

 pleasure is ta'en," said W. S., and it is hoped whoever 

 steps into the shoes of W. S. H. the same and its 

 attendant bon camaradie may continue. 



We caught hiin thinning his apples, Peasgood's Non- 

 such, taking off two out of every three. Said we— " Vou 

 are preparing for the fruit show in October." Said he — 

 " No ; I don't think of showing this year." But there was 

 a contemporaneous twinkle in the blue-grey Irish eye 

 that would make one weep for veracity, only we have it 

 on unimpeachable authority that " all men are ..." 

 and without even the saving clause that old showmen 

 are exempt. We shall watch those Peasgoods to the 

 finish, which we predict will be Ballsbridge, and the 

 decoration of a first prize card. So be it. .And "it's a 



