u6 



GARDENING. 



Jan. /, 



native of the Cape of Good Hope, and 

 blooms in summer, while B. Hocotrana 

 flowers in winter and hails from the 

 island which has given it a name. 



Two more distinct flowering begonias 

 could hardly be selected from the long 

 list known in gardens, and the hybrid 

 certainh- unites the characteristics of its 

 parents to a remarkable degree. Resem- 

 bling B. Socotrana in a general way, 

 though the leaves and flowers are smaller, 

 yet it lacks the tuberous' roots of that 

 species. The leaves, also, are lighter in 

 color, and the flowers, produced in large 

 quantities from October to May, of a 

 more brilliant pink shade. We have seen 

 B. Gloire de Lorraine in full bloom, and 

 can safely say that begonia growers have 

 been given a treasure in this new plant, 

 which was introduced by Mons. Victor 

 Lemoine, of Nancy, France, in 1891. 



The excellent specimen shown in our 

 illustration was exhibited at Boston 

 recently by Mr. F. L. Harris of Wellesley, 

 Mass., and awarded a silver medal by 

 the Massachusetts Horticultural Society. 

 Apart from the difficulty attending its 

 propagation, which may disappear as 

 the plant becomes better known.it is said 

 to be much easier to grow than B. Soco- 

 trana. notwithstanding the fact that the 

 latter has been in constant cultivation 

 since 1880. 



Trees and Shrubs. 



AN EARLY WINTER GARDEN. 



This having been until now only a sum- 

 mer place, I am f njoying the new sensa- 

 tion of sitting in an artificially heated 

 room and looking out on the grounds 

 clothed with the early snows of winter. 

 From my windows I see mad white- 

 capped Lake Michigan tossing its restless 

 waves on the beach and hurriedly recall- 

 ing them asif infearof loosingits precious 

 liquid. Sunlight and shadow play hide 

 and seek far out among the billows, cast- 

 ing flitting shades of gold and amber on 

 passing ships, belated and hurrying into 

 port. At night the moonlight reveals the 

 dancing waves, and peoples their crests 

 with fanciful forms glittering in tints of 

 gold and silver forever changing. It is 

 the season of storms, the antipode of the 

 peaceful river of gold that the summer 

 moon always paints. All this is revealed 

 through a peep hole amid thenative trees, 

 showing just enough to whet the senses, 

 and almost create a desire for more. This 

 is as it should be, for this very desire 

 intensifies the appreciation of what is- 

 revealed, while more might satiate it. 

 Turning to the lawn I find the green- 

 sward transformed into a freshly formed 

 sheet of virgin snow, such a snow as one 

 never sees in the soot-stained yards of city 

 homes. 



Semi-tender shrubs stand as sentinels 

 on the border wrapped in their golden- 

 hued straw overcoats, and guarding the 

 flour barrels that shield the young tree 

 pa;onies from the winter's blast and 

 prevent the too early starting of the buds. 

 We have imbibed a military spirit from 

 Fort Sheridan, only two miles away, and 

 possess officers of higher rank for winter 

 service than the straw-clad sentinels. 

 These are found in the evergreens. We 

 must not attribute to this group the trait 

 of uncleanliness, and accuse them of never 

 changing their garments. The\- are 

 sleight-of hand fellows, disrobing even 

 before our eyes, yet in such a mystic man- 

 ner that we do not notice it. We know 



they do this, for the fact is evidenced by 

 the quantity of pine needles they cast at 

 their feet, but when and how they do it 

 is known only to the professors. To the 

 Colorado blue spruce we assign the 

 colonelcy. The little sno.w that has 

 lodged among its branches enhances the 

 beauty of its glaucous sheen, and it is 

 even more attractive than in summer, it 

 that be possible. The needles of this 

 species are sharp, stiff and pointed, repel- 

 ling too much familiarity, just such traits 

 of character as we attribute to a com- 

 mander of forces. Next in rank comes 

 the Douglas spruce, graceful in outline, 

 and soft and gentle to the touch. That 

 dark, fierce-looking shrubby tree, remind- 

 ing me of an Indian recruit, is a bushy 

 form ol our native cedar, transferred 

 from the woods on account of its beauty. 

 Two forms of the inverted spruce are at 

 opposite sides of the grounds, one an 

 evergreen obelisk straight as Cleopatra's 

 needle, while the other may be termed the 

 buffoon of the camp, somewhat resem- 

 bling a bear awkwardly endeavoring to 

 walk in an upright position. This is the 

 jester that whileprovokingmirth induces 

 pity. 



Looking to the right I see a tulip tree, 

 grand and majestic of aspect. Straight 

 as an arrow, its trunk tapering in beau- 

 tiful symmetry, and mottled and streaked 

 in harmonious tones of drab and gray. 

 It has a dignity of its own that seems to 

 say, "I am a tulip tree," as if t v at were 

 the acme of tree ambition. Nearby in 

 strong contrast to its regular form is a 

 weeping beech, weird, tortuous and fan- 

 tastic in mien. The branches here seem to 

 have started out from the trunk with 

 good intentions, then darted here and 

 there in erratic indecision, assuming a 

 form characteristic only of itself. Solid 

 wooden shutters, six or more feet square, 

 are placed on the windward side of favor- 

 ite evergreens to shield them from un- 

 kindly blasts. After all they do not look 

 as unsightly as I presumed they would, 

 but perhaps the sympathetic feeling one 

 has for these exotics, torn from more con- 

 genial climes and anchored here, dulls the 

 artistic sense. From my dining room 

 window comes a gleam of color standing 

 out more brightly on account of the back- 

 ground of snow. The pendant clusters 

 of the climbing bitter-sweet never looked 

 so handsome, never hung so gracefully or 

 seemed more brilliant in their orange 

 reds. Slumbering near this one in its 

 cone shaped straw covering is Magnolia 

 Soulangeana, almost a stranger in these 

 parts, for 1 do not know of another in 

 this section. When aroused next April, 

 and unwrapped, this small tree will cele- 

 brate its deliverance by unfoldirg the 

 white cup-shaped flowers, even before it 

 puts forth its leaves; and while buck- 

 wheat cakes are still included in the 

 breakfastmenu, we shallenjoy its charms. 

 Within range of this window there also 

 stands an American euonymus, glowing 

 with the pinkish red of its numerous 

 fruits, sprays of which make good con- 

 trast with the white-berried branches ol 

 Symphoricarpus racemosus. 



Glancing up, the still green leaves of the 

 akebia on the porch recalls the splendors 

 of the warm summer days, when its 

 shade was so refreshing; but a chance 

 look at the straw-covered honeysuckle 

 over the entrance dissolves that dream, 

 and tells again ol Jack Frost's stern pres- 

 ence. Away in the distance the common 

 privet still shows green, as do the hardier 

 forms of the climbing honeysuckles, the 

 latter further ornamented by the fruits. 

 The Rosa rugosa hedge is yet bright with 

 its red and orange-colored hips. The 



leaves are brown, and the plants stand 

 wholly unprotected, so different from 

 their cousins, the hybrid perpetuals. that 

 were put to bed some time ago with a 

 blanket of oak leaves and a comforter 

 of boards, while the more tender teas are 

 ensconsed in a snug cold-frame. In the 

 more formal part of the grounds are beds 

 of tulips, hyacinths, daffodils and scillas, 

 occupying spaces set apart in summer for 

 cannas and other tender plants and 

 thoroughly covered with leaves. Look- 

 ing out from another window, the scene 

 changes. The Japanese weeping cherry 

 throws out its long, arched branches, 

 naked and slender, yet full of promise for 

 the coming season. A weeping English 

 hawthorn has a place not far apart, 

 retaining most of its summer foliage. 

 Accustomed to the London fogs, it seems 

 to hang on to these leaves for use as a 

 mackintosh in case one ever comes. It is 

 taller and more pyramidal in form than 

 the chcrrv and weeps only at the tips. 



While I miss the mysteries of spring, 

 the glories of summer, and the ripening 

 shades of autumn's panorama, there is a 

 beauty to be seen in the outline of every 

 tree and shrub if one but studies them, 

 and there is peaceful satisfaction in know- 

 ing and feeling that all are well cared for 

 and resting contentedly. 



Illinois. W. C. Egan. 



HARDINESS OP THE GINKGO. 



I am much interested in Mr. Median's 

 note on this beautiful tree, the good 

 points of which as a street and orna- 

 mental tree are -not sufficiently appreci- 

 ated. I wish however, at this time rather 

 to draw attention to its hardiness and 

 wide range of adaptability. In Canada 

 as vet the tree is not generally known. 

 The late Charles Gibb of Abbotsford. 

 Quebec, (latitude 43°), planted it 15 

 years ago. In this severe climate it has 

 made a slow growth, but with oneortwo 

 exceptions has never been winter-killed. 

 These trees have not blossomed yet. 

 Throughout Southern and Western 

 Ontario it is quite at home wherever 

 it has been tried. Trees were planted at 

 the Central Experimental Farm, Ottawa, 

 Ont., eight years ago, which like those in 

 Ouebec have grown slowly but were 

 injured appreciably two vears ago when 

 the thermometer at the Experiment sta- 

 tion showed the temperature to have 

 fallen to 30° below zero. Even with this 

 trying temperature only two individuals 

 out of several planted on the grounds 

 suffered injury which took the form of 

 bud killing rather than twig or terminal 

 freezing. 



I heartily concur in Mr. Median's esti- 

 mate of the value of this tree for the pur- 

 poses outlined. John Craig. 



Ithaca, N Y. 



SOUTHERN TREES IN THE NORTH. 



A friend asked me recently why it was 

 that when he raised seedlings of sweet 

 gum, Liquidambar, from southern feeds; 

 they were partly winter killed always 

 while young, while seeds gathered in 

 Connecticut, where he lived, gave him 

 seedlings perfectly hardy. It is not diffi- 

 cult to understand that plants accus- 

 tomed for numberless years to what we 

 term a high temperature, cannot at once 

 accustom themselves to a lower one. 

 Although the sweet gum is a native from 

 the gull states to New England the trees 

 from the two ends of the line, for prac- 

 tical purposes, may be considered as dis- 

 tinct. 



It is an interesting question to consider 

 whether at some time the sweet gum, the 



