108 APRIL 



body 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 Weybridge, 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 hillside, an oakwood 

 at the foot, and a couple of level fields beyond. 

 Water-loving plants have been accommodated by 

 the excavation of two or three ponds in the gravel, 

 and in this month the surface of one of these is 

 closely studded with white blossoms of the Cape 

 pondweed (Aponogeton distachyon\ and the air is 

 loaded with their perfume of mingled hawthorn 

 and bitter almonds. But it is in the wood that, at 

 this season, the choicest flowers are to be found; 

 charming surprises abound there at every turn of 



