88 SPRING FLOWEES 



regiments were brigaded in camp at Holmwood, near 

 Dorking, during the summer manoeuvres. A bicyclist, 

 who had come down from London to see the troops, 

 was bitten by an adder in the heather, and died in a 

 few hours. 



Even adders are not without their services to man. 

 During the great plague of field-voles in Scotland in 

 1891-2, the only adder I happened to see killed had a 

 full-sized vole in its gullet. 



XXXIX 



Few of us make enough of our gardens in spring. 

 We have trained our gardeners to conform to the 



spring vicious habit which draws people to the town 



Flowers d ur ing the first acts of Nature's annual opera, 

 and to concentrate all their skill and ingenuity on a 

 display of colour in autumn. Everybody admits that 

 spring flowers are the sweetest, the purest, and the 

 prettiest, but it is a rare thing to see much trouble 

 bestowed upon them. But a visit during this month 

 to Mr. George Wilson's garden at Wisley, near Wey- 

 bridge, would open most people's eyes to the brilliant 

 effect that these can be made to produce. 



A garden in the strict sense it can scarcely be 

 termed ; rather it is a champfleuri a field of flowers. 

 It is a piece of land wherein an owner, being as much 

 botanist as gardener, has collected from all parts of the 

 world the fairest flowers that are patient of our climate, 

 there to test, to multiply, and display them. The 

 ground chosen, some nine acres in extent, includes a 



