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JOUBNAI. OP HOBTICULTUBE AND COTTAGE OAEDBNEB. 



[ Mar SO. 18S7. 



in'diameter, I put in a ring of Viola comnta as an edging to 

 some of these, as well as several other hardy plants remarkable 

 for their compact growth, their foliage, or flowers. Arabia 

 purpurea, and the dwarf variety of Alyssum saxatile, have been 

 very ornamental, but are rather past their best, while Viola 

 comuta certainly promises to be more lasting, and at present 

 (May 20th) is the gayest plant of its class. If it eontinne as it 

 now is, too mnch cannot be said in its favour. Judging from 

 its appearance, I should be inclined to think it will suit the 

 north of England, or cool, moist situations better than dry, 

 sunny ones, and I fear mildew will attack it in dry seasons, 

 and on dry sandy or gravelly soils. This, however, I only put 

 forth as an opinion, and shall be glad if my anticipation prove 

 erroneous. I have no doubt that the merits of the plant will 

 be fully tried this season, in widely different situations. — J. 



BOESON. 



LILAC-TIDE. 



Bt such a name I designate one little period of the year, a 

 short period, for the Lilac soon sheds its beautiful flowers ; soon 

 are they faded by the sun, then embrowned by it, and at length 

 they hang withered bunches on the trees. 



But, although Lilac-tide is a very brief season — a mere 

 parenthesis in the year — still, it is a most beautiful period, 

 beautiful in rich possession, and beautiful in richer promise. 



Take a few other periods. There is hay-time to wit ; but 

 after the hay is gathered the landscape is injured ; not the 

 bright green of Nature meets the eye, but the yellow green of 

 art, for where the scythe has cut the luxuriant vegetation, there 

 the tint has faded down to paleness, besides a considerable 

 portion of the summer is gone with the hay. 

 _ Or, take harvest-time — man's rejoicing time, fields of com 

 ripe and ready, and rustling for the reaper's hand. As says 

 Bloomfield— 



*' A plorions barvest fills our e^gor sight, 

 Half shocked, half waving iu a flood of light." 



But soon the fields will be cleared, and then they will lie naked 

 and void, and we shall feel that another season is far on the 

 wane, another milestone of time in sight, and soon to be reached 

 And passed. 



But, in Lilac-tide all is different ; it is the beginning of the 

 season's beauty, its youth, its hopeful youth ; chilliness is 

 gone, genial warmth is come, but no thought of decline mars 

 our enjoj'ment by overshadowing the present ; the birds are 

 pealing forth their notes, warmed, but not hushed as presently 

 they will be, by the heat, while the rooks are filling the air at 

 intervals with their musical clangour. 



As I sit writing with breeze and sound coming to me through 

 the opened window, there lies before me a bunch of Lilacs of 

 both colours, placed there by a child's hand. (Whose pleasure 

 was the greater — the giver's or receiver's'?) Tlie white Lilac — 

 so white — those unopened flower-buds, not pearly white, for 

 no pearl ever equalled their whiteness ; what a contrast to the 

 broad green leaves ! The Lilac leaf has a colour all its own, a 

 dark yet clear and even greenness throughout. Then, there is 

 the other Lilac — the Lilac proper — the commoner and stronger- 

 growing variety, it has a colour in nature to itself, giving a name 

 to a certain hue. But although cut Lilac is pleasing to the eye, 

 yet commend me to the flowers on the tree. Horace Walpole 

 was wont to hurry down from London to Strawberry Hill to 

 enjoy Lilac-tide, amd verily if I must pass the whole year 

 In i>opulous city pent," 



still let there be a reservation as to Lilac-tide, for I must be in 

 the country then. 



Surely, when Londoners, if not Londoners born, see the 

 draught horses come into town with branches of blooming 

 Lilac nodding and bov.-ing on their heads, they must long and 

 pine, and " weary," as the Scotch say, for "the pure, pure 

 country air, where the Lilac trees are standing in unsmoked 

 beauty. And yet, happy Loudon, with its pretty suburbs im- 

 proved by the gardening art of centuries, beauty, country beauty, 

 is close to you. Go out westward, weary citizen, and the country 

 wiU soon meet you — pretty villas, with bright green lawns, 

 trim flower-beds, and Lilac trees all in binom. Go further, 

 and pause at the gates of many a country house overlooking 

 the broad Thames, and see how art and nature together have 

 produced a glorious English garden. 



But, it is not near London, no nor in Wilts, nor even near 

 the fair city of the west, beautiful Bath, that you can fully 

 enjoy Lilac-tide. You must go further west, to warm, green 



Devon, for a perfect spring. There the air is soft, and " winter 

 lingers not in the lap of spring." There yon may wander out 

 on early summer evenings, yea, even sit out as you dare not in 

 any other part of England. There the grass is greener, and the 

 leaves more fully out in April than in any other county, and 

 there the Lilacs bloom in fuller, richer beauty than in any 

 other part of our island home. 



Miss Eden in her interesting book on India, " Up the 

 Country," tells us we enjoy nature most, but remember art the 

 longest ; that of a day spent in the country, even in its fullest 

 beauty, the mind retains nothing distinct, that the beauty of a 

 landscape leaves but a haze on the memory, while on the 

 contrary a fine painting remains for ever engraven in all clear- 

 ness on the mind. We remember, too, the day, the hour, the 

 attendant circumstances, and the picture itself stands out 

 before us bright and clear, and as we saw it once we see it 

 always. I doubt this. There are days and scenes which never 

 fade from our memories, but are photographed on the brain, 

 and precious memories they are to us, and sure brighteners of 

 after-life. I can close my eyes and see the flower, or the land- 

 scape, as clearly as I can that Carlo Doloi which I saw years 

 ago in its greensilk-hung little room at Burleigh, and of both 

 nature and art I can say — 



" Those beauteoua forms, 

 Through a long absence, have not been to me 

 As is a landscape to a blind man's eye. 

 But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din 

 Of towns and cities, I have owed to them. 

 In hour< of weariness, sensations sweet, 

 Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart." 



But, to return to Devonshire, as the very land of spring 

 floral beauty. Not only in South Devon, where the Myrtle 

 blooms in the open air, but in North Devon (nearly as lovely, 

 and with a fresher air, where many can enjoy life who are 

 almost stifled by the soft air of the south), is springtide to be 

 seen in full perfection. Perhaps some of my readers know 

 Bideford, a famous port in the old Armada days, and although 

 it is a humble place now as to shipping, yet it is a bright, dry, 

 pleasant-looking town, as the old song says — 



" Bideford is a pretty place, it smiles where it stands." 



Well, after watching, some years ago, from its many-arched 

 bridge the catching of a fine salmon, I, house-hunting for a 

 fiiend, ascended a hill near, where a residence was to be let, 

 and found an old — scarce mansion, scarce cottage — but some- 

 thing between the two. A heavy shower had just fallen as I 

 entered the gate, a shower which had pelted the ground and 

 pattered on the new green leaves, and the grateful earth was 

 sending up an incense-like smell, and as to the flowers — • 

 " Their breath was mixed with fresh odours, sent 

 From the turf, lilco the voice and the instrument." 



Proceeding, I beheld a wavy line of Lilac trees in full bloom ; 

 a wavy line of Lilac trees hanging over the approach. Each 

 tree was shaking off in the sunshine the recently-fallen shower- 

 drops. Such a show of Devon-blossoming Lilac, the like of 

 which I had never seen before. 



" Lilacs various in array, now white, now sanguine." 



A group of laughing girls had taken refuge from the storm, 

 iu the porch of this old house, and were now essaying to escape 

 on tiptoe along the gravel path. 



And when Lilac- tide comes round each year, I think of that 

 scene, the clean west country town, the bright clear bay, the 

 Bristol Channel glittering in the sun, and Lundy Island 

 standing up above the sea as an oval- shaped jewel stands from 

 a ring ; it looked in the pure atmosphere like some faii-y land, 

 some home for beings, perhaps little children, too pure and 

 innocent for mixing with the throng in this tainted world ; and, 

 then, last of all — and longest of all — I think of the blooming 

 Lilacs, bending their beautiful heads, wet and perfumed, in 

 the sunshine. — Wllishiee Eectoe. 



THE APPLE CROP OF 1H07. 

 Froji information which has reached me from various parts 

 of Kent and Sussex, there appears to be an apprehension of a 

 great falling oHin the Apple crop of the ensuing autumn, owing 

 to the late severe winter, which has caused so many abortive 

 blooms, and this idea will be strengthened by the occurrence 

 of the severe frosts and biting winds of the past fortnight, 

 which have made havoc of and sadly disfigured the young growth 

 of nearly everything exposed to them, as well as of the Apple 

 bloom. On examination, however, of the orchard under my 



