4 A YEAR IN A LANCASHIRE GARDEN. 



places in Lancashire, and at Lytham, close to the 

 sea, I saw clusters of berries only the other day. 

 Sometimes I fancy there is a better chance of the 

 fruit setting if the pollen is from another tree, 

 and I have lately planted a second Arbutus for 

 the experiment. I am very fond of the Arbutus ; 

 it carries me back to the days of Horace, for we 

 remember how his goats, wandering along the 

 lower slopes of Lucretilis, would browse upon the 

 thickets of Arbutus that fringed its side. 



Lastly, the Chrysanthemums are in flower, 

 though not in the inner garden. Some I have 

 tended and trained, and they are now looking 

 handsome enough in the porch and vestibule of 

 the house. Some I have planted, and allowed 

 to grow as they like, in front of the shrubbery 

 borders ; these have failed very generally with me 

 this year they look brown and withered, and the 

 blooms are small, and the stems long and ragged, 

 while many have entirely disappeared. The best 

 of them all is Bob, with his bright, red, merry 

 face, only surpassed by a trained Julia Lagraviere 

 in the porch. Another favourite Chrysanthemum 

 of mine is the Fleur de Marie, with its large white 

 discs, all quilled inside and feathered round the 

 edge. Fastened up against a wall, I have seen 



