OF SHRUBS, MOSTLY EVERGREEN 37 
collina. Whether these are all names of one or of dis- 
tinct sorts I dare not dispute. Let me call my plant 
collina, and so praise it. It grows in any soil, quite 
robustly, though sometimes a branch dies off for no clear 
reason. It develops into a round bush of small, leaden, 
evergreen foliage, three feet high or so, and each straight 
shoot is capped, in June, by a head of deliciously-scented 
rosy-pink flowers, like those of indica. 
Daphne Genkwa is an outstanding, notable kind, very 
rare in cultivation. It hails from China and Southern 
Japan, and labours, consequently, under a reputation for 
doubtful hardiness. As a matter of fact, | imported my 
plants from the Tokio Plain, with the result that they 
turn out able to stand anything in the way of weather. 
A pot-plant, in the open, suffers far more, of course, from 
frost, than does a plant whose roots are safely buried in 
the ground, with only one surface to feel the cold. Last 
winter a number of Japanese Plums, even, in pots, were 
killed off by frost; not a single pot-plant of Daphne 
Genkwa took any hurt. This plant, economically impor- 
tant in the manufacture, I fancy, of paper, is a small, 
very frail, straggling shrub, deciduous, with thin, velvety, 
greyish leaves. ‘The bark is soft, dark brown. The 
flowers, born in few-flowered clusters before the leaves, 
are larger than those of any other Daphne, and of a 
very clear, beautiful, blue-purple, like those of a fine lilac. 
Of Daphne striata, a close cousin of cneorum, and reported 
a lime-lover, my imported plants turned out, after all, to 
be mere collina; Daphne arbuscula is a very rare little 
novelty, quite easy to do with, in peat, which seems to 
me exactly like a minute form of cneorum with the 
diminutiveness, but without the gorgeous blossom, of 
rupestris. 
With Laureola, Philippi, Sophiae—the dingy, greenish 
yellowish Daphnes, no rock-garden need concern itself. 
