52 MY GARDEN 



my own words are poor and cold in comparison, though 

 I share his admiration. The great nose appears above 

 ground at the very first hint of reassuring weather and 

 attains, hi an incredibly short time, a height of two 

 and one-half to three feet. At the top is a triumphant 

 tuft of greenery, and just below hangs the circular crown 

 of bells sometimes two crowns this kind called 

 Crown upon Crown; sometimes orange, again yellow or 

 scarlet, but always imperial and striking. It is Turkish 

 and looks its nationality. One fault it has, but I, with 

 Parkinson, am so under its spell that we make light of it. 

 He says: "The whole plant and every part thereof, as 

 well rootes, as leaves and flowers, does smell somewhat 

 strong as it were the savour of a Foxe, so that if any one 

 does but come near it, he cannot but smell it, which 

 yet is not unwholesome." I am not familiar with the 

 "savour of a Foxe," but this splendid plant has to my 

 nose exactly the "savour" of a skunk-cabbage, and 

 seems to permeate the world. It is at its worst, I have 

 observed, when it first appears above ground, as if it 

 were just "letting it-self go" after the long winter con- 

 finement; but, as Parkinson says, it is not "unwhole- 

 some." Ruskin speaks of the perfume of a flower as its 

 soul, and it would seem a worthy task for some patient 

 missionary hybridist to take in hand the terrible soul of 

 Fritillaria imperialis. 



A rich soil is generally recommended for Crown 

 Imperials, and I have found that the bulbs here planted 



