252 AUTUMNAL FLOWERBEDS 



cyclamens are so seldom seen in British gardens. The 

 autumn flowering C. hederifolium, or ivy-leaved sow- 

 bread, is as hardy as a buttercup. It is an exquisite little 

 thing that never fails to send up a display of delicate pink 

 or pure white flowers at this season. When the blossoms 

 fade the stems curl up to nurse the seeds, and up comes 

 beautiful marbled foliage, forming a close cushion over 

 them through the winter. This plant seeds itself freely 

 in light soils. The finest white-flowered cyclamen I 

 possess came up twenty years ago, a chance seedling in a 

 gravel walk. Why, then, have so many people to com- 

 plain of failure in its cultivation ? I think I have hit 

 upon the reason. When the corms arrive from the 

 growers they are dry and apparently lifeless. One side of 

 the flattened sphere is smooth and convex : the other side 

 is more or less rough, with a few scattered rootlets. Those 

 who are unfamiliar with the plant not unnaturally suppose 

 that the side of the tuber which shows roots ought to be 

 planted lowest. The reverse is the case. In the cyclamen, 

 leaves, flowers, and roots all proceed from the same side 

 of the corm, which, if it is planted upside down, perishes. 

 I blundered through many failures and losses before I 

 discovered this simple truth. 



So far, mention has been made only of natural species, 

 unadulterated by the florist's meddlesome craft. Many 

 lovers of flowers, myself among the number, share 

 Perdita's dislike to the meddlesome hybridiser, and wish 

 that there were some finality in the perpetual production 

 of new varieties. 



Perdita. Sir, the year growing ancient 

 Not yet on summer's death, nor on the verge 

 Of trembling winter the fairest flowers o' the season 



