84 MY GARDEN 



to require it. But, as a home for the young of the blue- 

 bottle, stapelia is worse than useless. That family 

 was merely hatched to perish, and its members 

 wriggled for a time, then passed uneventfully away. 

 Perhaps it would have been kind to look after them ; 

 but I had no leisure. There is a good deal of scientific 

 interest in this fact. Nature never jests, or one 

 might suspect a rather stupid practical joke here. 

 Do stapelias similarly delude the flies in their own 

 country of South Africa ? Or has evolution taught 

 them better ? Was it simply a case of the ignorance 

 of British blue-bottles ? Or was it some Unusual fool 

 of a blue-bottle who lacked the customary sound in- 

 telligence of her class ? Let science reply to these 

 questions. The useful blue-bottle likewise haunts my 

 dragon arums, where they raise black-purple, evil- 

 smelling heads above their speckled foliage in a corner. 

 But I know not if they regard those plants also as 

 possible refreshment for their young. 



Cereus is the shyest bloomer among my cactus folk. 

 Under glass I have flowered various mammillaria and 

 opuntias notably O. microdasys a lovely yellow 

 blossom. But cereus is stubborn, and pilocereus is 

 wanting. 



Let me mention the well-loved name of Miss Frances 

 Mary Peard in this connection. By happiest chance 

 that famous writer was at Bordighera on the occasion 

 of my visit, and thus it happened, thanks to her famili- 

 arity with Italian, that I was able to visit a remarkable 

 nursery there and bargain elaborately concerning^suc- 

 culents without the matter becoming too one-sided. 



