366 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 



[ November 8, 1884. 



iter eye, called "Black Bess" by the coacliman, who, in- 

 stead of minding his horses, kept quoting Sir Walter Scott, 

 to the intense horror of one of our party, a superb four-in- 

 hand "whip." 



Oh ! the perils of that drive— the ludicrous mixture of the 

 sublime and the ridiculous. Black Bess scorned a whip, 

 and the coachman employed his to illustrate his quotations. 

 " There, madam, is the rock where Fitz James withstood 

 Roderick Dhu. 



' His back against a rock he bore, 

 And firmly placed his foot before.' 



Hold in, Bess, will you; what's up now?" "My good 

 friend," broke in the whip, " do let me have the reins. Do, 

 pray, be careful." " Bless you, sir, don't be frightened, 

 Bess is as gentle as a lamb when you let her have her own 

 way. Hold hard, old girl. Now for it ;" and like a mad 

 thing, Bess was tearing down a grip, and pulling might and 

 main up a steep ascent. 



A few more alarming quotations and we come to Loch 

 Katrine, lying graceful and beaming, with its little sunny 

 isles beneath the shadow of its mountains and its trees. 



A small steamer plies up and down this lovely lake, and 

 you find yourself looking out for landmarks given you by 

 Scott. The " beach of pebble bright as snow," the " silver 

 strand" are there, it only needs "fair Ellen's" voice to 

 take the place of the rough music of the paddles. 



Loch Katrine is a graceful preparation for the grander 

 beauty of Loch Lomond. I can hardly fancy a lovelier pic- 

 ture than that which bursts upon you as you near the inn 

 of Inversnaid, Ben after Ben rising in the distance, some 

 brown, some blue, and some with bright patches of green 

 here and there. 



I did not forget the Ferns. I spent hours hunting the hill- 

 sides at Inversnaid. Oreopteris grew in abundance, with 

 beautiful Filix-fcemina and other common Ferns. I had made 

 friends on the lake with a gentleman, armed as I was with 

 trowel and bag. He joined us in the walk. 



"What success ?" I asked, half hoping he had found some 

 rarity, half fearing lest his booty should exceed my own. 

 He shook his head. I opened my store triumphantly. 

 "Look here," I said, "is not this a wonderful find?" and I 

 displayed a graceful little Fern. "This is the Woodsia 

 ilvensis ! " 



I saw a twinkle in the "Fern-man's" eye; but he told 

 me gravely my specimen was only a baby "Filix-fcemina;" 

 and then he added, how troublesome baby Ferns always 

 were, and that one could not easily decide on a Fern unless 

 there was fructification. I might hunt for varieties of Filix- 

 mas and fcemma, but he thought I should find nothing else. 

 Then he discoursed of Ferns in general and of Fern-hunters, 

 how he found ladies looking for Septentrionale in a wood, 

 for Ceterach in a ditch, and for Asplenium viride on a wall. 

 " I do," said I. 



" It is a pity to waste time," he answered. " Find out 

 the whereabouts before you search. Know what you are 

 likely to find, and then take anything strange you meet 

 with." And so it came to pass I only brought away 

 from Inversnaid a few young plants of Oreopteris and a 

 Lycopodium or two; but I took to more diligent readings 

 of Moore, and wished there had been a few simple directions 

 as to the " how " of finding Ferns. 



Of course we made the tour of Loch Lomond in the 

 steamer, which was filled with a strange mass of human 

 beings bent on pleasure — the geologist with his hammer, 

 the young girl with her sketch-book, the botanist with a 

 round tin at his back, the pedestrian with his knapsack. 

 For five minutes we scanned each other, and then turned 

 our attention to the scenery. It was a glorious day — a day 

 of strongest lights and shadows — a day of sun and cloud; 

 and I could scarce fancy any luxury greater than lying 

 down on a sofa of plaids and sailing through this beautiful 

 world of waters — a world cut off, as it seemed to be, from 

 any outer world by high frowning mountains, by steep 

 shaggy rocks — every minute the scene changing, bold rugged 

 Bens melting away into bright green islands, and these 

 into a far-off distance of more gentle outline. Looking from 

 side to side as you approach Inverarnon, you come to a hill 

 covered with Firs, some standing, many fallen, and already 

 'barked.' A picturesque group of women in red petticoats 

 and white jackets are seated by a picnic fire cooking ; these 



are the 'barkers,' who live in rough huts built about the 

 wood during their season of work, and vividly remind one of 

 the Olive gatherers in the Olive woods of Sardinia. 



From the head of Loch Lomond a coach conveys you over 

 the Black Mountain and through the awful pass of Glencoe 

 to the hotel of Banavie at the foot of Ben Nevis, where I 

 was assured I should undoubtedly find Polystiehum lonchitis ; 

 and up the sides I tramped many a weary mile in the 

 search, now scrambling up a rocky path, now floundering in 

 a bog — but no lonchitis. Indeed, I may here own that I 

 have never found one plant of this most interesting Fern. 

 " Lonchitidoides " I have found in plenty, and some bearing 

 such close resemblance to lonchitis as for a time to create a 

 doubt even in the mind of Mr. Bree ; but the doubt cannot 

 last very long, for I have proved the fact that lonchitidoides 

 in time becomes lobatum, and after a while lobatum becomes 

 P. aculeatum. I have watched the plants changing from 

 year to year, and have had many an argument about it ; 

 but each Fern-grower can prove it for himself in three or 

 four years. 



I have one large plant of true lonchitis, which I bought 

 at a small nursery without being able to trace its history, 

 and from which I have this autumn divided three young 

 plants. There is one feature in lonchitis which entirely 

 divides it from lonchitidoides — the pinnules, even in thetiniest 

 frond, lap over each other like the scales on a fish's back ; 

 each pinnule is furnished with sharp teeth, with a projection 

 like an ear close to the rachis, which is covered with brown 

 scales ; the fronds grow stiff and erect, and its whole form- 

 ation gives one the idea of protection from wet. The fronds 

 spring from the centre, throwing up several sets of fronds 

 during the summer, the whole preserving a compact vase- 

 like form. During the extreme neat of summer, after water- 

 ing the Ferns I made a practice of pouring a little water 

 into the cup of the plant, thinking to encourage the new 

 fronds. After some time I observed a little frond quite 

 perfect, yet very small, spread itself like a guard over the 

 nest of young fronds. I gave up my system of encourage- 

 ment, and, instead, threw a little cocoa-nut refuse into the 

 centre of the cup as a protection ; and this has answered 

 beautifully, and the plant has thirty fronds on it of this 

 year's growth, but the long-continued drought has caused 

 these to be less fine than usual. 



In the wooded dells at the foot of Ben Nevis I found the 

 Pyrola, whose pretty bell-like blossoms of white with a rosy 

 flush were as fragrant as a bowl of Lilies of the Valley. 

 I brought several plants away, but failed to make them 

 grow. 



My next hunting ground was Oban and its neighbour- 

 hood ; and here I had great success with Cystopteris fragilis, 

 which abounds in many beautiful varieties. On the road 

 to the Kerrara Ferry I found angustata, with its acutely 

 drawn-out length of frond and pinna?; dentata, broad and 

 stumpy-looking, bearing a near resemblance to Dickieana, 

 save that the fronds are more robust and the pinna? not 

 quite so closely approaching each other. I have never found 

 C. alpina, C. montana, or Dickieana; but I possess many 

 healthy plants of each variety excepting montana, which I 

 have lately procured from Mr. Veitch's nursery. It pro- 

 mises to grow rapidly as the others do, but I daresay it will 

 need a little extra care. 



The walk from Oban to the Ferry will repay the tourist, 

 even if he be not a lover of Ferns. Amongst the heather 

 he will find the Golden Asphodel with its feathery blossoms 

 of exquisite form ; and in July there are beds of rich ripe 

 Strawberries scenting the air, which bldws pure and fresh 

 around him. He should go at eventide and watch the sun 

 setting over one of Nature's loveliest scenes. The sea, 

 broken into numerous still calm lakes by rocky islands, 

 reflects every golden cloud, while the distant mountains 

 form a frame of the softest blue; and above and beneath, it 

 is the same fair scene. 



Oban is a real Scotch town — you feel you are in the High- 

 lands. The people talk a patois of English-Gaelic, and 

 understand you with difficulty; the shopkeepers have an 

 English of their own. It is a strange isolated community 

 grafting English fashions slowly on northern stocks. 



You go to a " store " to buy calico or some little matter. 

 " Have you any good calico ? " you ask. " Yes — no — I think 

 — my calico is worth hardly anything just. Yes, it's very 



