SION 



the beauty of the glossy dark leaves of camellias out of bloom, 

 of orange trees, tall palms, and ferns. Conservatories, whatever 

 their architectural dignity and those at Sion have much demand 

 colour ; to obtain which, at all seasons, is surely the raison d'etre 

 of a greenhouse. However, though, in the interior, colour may 

 sometimes be lacking at Sion, outside, in September, there is 

 veritably a feast of it ! 



Standing at the extreme end of the terrace, by the door of the 

 near conservatory, the angle of which in my drawing unfortunately 

 cuts off from view the curved line of the crescent-shaped houses 

 and the central dome, one looks across beds of delicately-tinted 

 flowers to the opposite and corresponding greenhouse, every 

 available inch of which is covered with Virginia creeper, which, in 

 September, changes rapidly from a warm green to scarlet, and 

 finally to blood-red. It compensates by its glorious hues for the 

 gradual weakening, as summer wanes, of the blaze of rose and pink, 

 touched here and there with white, and occasionally with a splash 

 of pure vermilion used with much reticence at Sion but which, 

 when present, strikes the final note of a colour-scheme of wonderful 

 beauty. 



I may return ere long to the subject of colour in gardens to 

 Jboth the abuse and timid avoidance of scarlet, the untutored 

 eye welcoming contrasts, but ignoring harmonies. 



The terrace is a vantage ground. Thence the eye is led gradu- 

 ally onward, down the broad walk between the beds of pink 

 geranium and purple heliotrope, and less familiar plants, which 

 blend admirably ; past the far end of the conservatory, with its 

 mantle of creeper just described ; past Cyprus, and cedar, and 

 Scottish fir, the dark foliage of all three contrasting with the 

 brighter greens of the deciduous trees, already painted with patches 

 of yellow ; on, right on, beyond all this to the open space of sky, 

 and stretch of quiet park, where cattle are grazing, to where the 

 glint of sunshine on a white sail, the occasional glimpse of the 

 red funnel of a steamboat, the distant objects moving on the farther 

 bank at the point at which the gardens of Kew descend to the 

 towing path, sufficiently indicate the position of the invisible 

 channel of the river. 



Turn a little to the right, keeping now the Gibbons vase upon 

 your left, and a wider view of the flower-garden presents 



ill 



