ioo MY GARDEN 



since he suffers from almost chronic hydrophobia, I 

 cover him up in winter with a cold frame. This is 

 better than brake-fern, matting, or straw, which I have 

 seen advised, because, in these things, horrid forms 

 of insect life collect and cabal and adjourn to eat the 

 spears of calochortus during earliest spring before 

 you think they are above ground. But the light of 

 day has no charm for such sons of darkness, and my 

 butterfly tulips keep dry and happy under a frame. 

 Some sorts are hardier than others. Benthami and 

 lilacinus came up year after year with me ; others are 

 not so regular. C. Albus used to do well, but I think 

 it has gone ; C. Kennedyi I tried, in vain, but the fault 

 has been in the bulbs. C. Macrocarpus I must have. 

 The Venustus varieties of this beautiful Californian 

 flower are perhaps the loveliest, with their rosy petals 

 and brown and yellow blotches and markings. In 

 Kent they thrive exceedingly under intelligent treat- 

 ment, and I often think that some sandy ridge in Kent 

 would be the ideal home for most half-hardy bulbs. 



Brodiaea needs merely to be mentioned. It is 

 strong enough, and flourishes in respectable soil facing 

 south. B. coccinea is showy, and I believe B. Howelli 

 is worth growing, but few are to my mind. Cyclamens 

 do, of course, in a rockery. I dug up some large 

 ones in North Africa, and they ought to have been 

 at least tender, but they showed no signs of it, and 

 flowered gaily. The little autumnal and spring cycla- 

 mens increase rapidly, and do their own seed-planting 

 with that wonderful spiral contrivance of theirs. I 

 remember how about the foothills of Lebanon a lovely 



