THE DAHLIA 



FEW garden flowers have a more loyal following than the Dahlia. 

 Even in those days, apparently remote, yet in reality quite recent, 

 when Cactus and single varieties were practically unknown, and 

 when such epithets as "stiff" and "lumpy" could be applied to 

 Dahlias with a certain measure of justice, they had a band of 

 supporters which never wavered in its fealty. When the Rose- 

 lover criticised the Dahlia as a flower lacking in grace, and the 

 Carnation enthusiast commented on its want of perfume, the 

 faithful had to maintain a discreet silence, but they gave their 

 favourite flower the same unswerving allegiance that they had 

 always done. 



What is the secret of the hold on its admirers which the 

 Dahlia seems capable of exercising? When we find a human 

 being who is able to seize, and retain, the admiration of a large 

 number of his fellow-creatures, we expect to find something in 

 him at once uncommon and worthy. Making due allowance for 

 the fact that the Dahlia had established itself in this country 

 before some of our modern favourites fairly began their course, 

 and thus secured an advantage of no light character among a 

 people remarkable for their tenacious conservatism, it is only fair 

 for its critics to acknowledge that it would never have done 

 this if it had not real garden merit. Well, we can say several 

 things in the Dahlia's favour. In the first place, it is a plant of 

 very free growth. There is no namby-pambyism about it. It 

 does not take half the summer to prepare for growing and the 

 other half to prepare for flowering. Provided that it is raised 

 sturdily and given good soil, it buckles to its task at once, and 



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