COMPOSITAE 125 
known border Asters—especially the littler ones, and 
things like eretcoeides and dwmosus and their varieties— 
they need hardly be recommended. 
My own joy among the larger Asters is acris, with its 
fleecy cloud-masses of soft purple, lying across the upper 
garden like a mist of colour through late summer and 
autumn. Acris I remember in the south of France, a 
wiry-leaved dry-ground plant, with abundance of tiny 
ragged flowers, inexpressibly airy and delightful. In 
cultivation it never gets coarse, but blossoms with wild 
generosity, and divides endlessly in spring. I have just 
got a roseus and an albus variety—but without any hope 
that they can possibly surpass, or even equal, the fairy- 
like type. Aster Linosyris is a graceful native, dis- 
tinguished by abundant yellow flowers, from which there 
is now a hybrid Asterolinosyris Willmottiae, which I have 
hastened to procure, feeling hopeful that so high and 
august a name would not be lavished on an undeserving 
plant (yet what of Iris willmottiana and Lilium Bur- 
banki?). Aster sibiricus I have had for years, without 
ever having much affection for; so far I have found him 
a medium-sized plant, but a rampant spreader, with large 
but rather ragged and ineffective deep-lilac flowers. 
After Aster may come their miniatures the Daisies. 
The Swiss giant Daisy, Bellidiastrum Micheli, I have 
grown and lost and never replaced. It is a huge version 
of the common Daisy, and not, I thought, worth any 
extravagant fuss. Then there is the so-called blue 
Morocco-Daisy, like our own, but more graceful, and 
with flowers in varying shades of very pale blue. This 
lovely little creature is unmistakably half-hardy here— 
at least has always proved so in all the positions we have 
ever tried for it, though in light, hot soils in southern 
gardens it may be more persevering. Bellis sylvestris I 
have doubts of. Under this name I have grown on from 
