December 6, 1864. ] 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 



447 



time I shall endeavour to revive a taste for the more exten- 

 sive planting of ornamental trees and shrubs in our parks 

 and pleasure-grounds, as well as to convey some hints that 

 may be useful to those making alterations on their estates. 



,„, , ,..■;■» G. Abbey. 



(To he continued.) 



HAEDY FEENS: 



HOW I COLLECTED AND CULTIVATED THEM.— No. 5. 



Dtjbixg my absence from home I had a fernery made for 

 my spoil. I chose an open space of ground facing due souths 

 so that in the summer time the Ferns would have the full 

 light and warmth of the sun's rays. I did this, because I 

 had noticed that the most rare and delicate Ferns I had 

 seen chose for themselves situations of the like character. 

 The back of the fernery abruptly descended to the edge of 

 a pond, through which there was a running stream. On 

 one side there was an Elm tree, which overshadowed a small 

 part of the fernery. In making the rockery I had but one 

 idea, and that was to provide a suitable home for the Ferns 

 — one in which they could revel, and enjoy life as everything 

 was created to enjoy it. The beauty of the rockery was but 

 a secondary consideration, and, besides, at the best of times 

 rockeries are but shams, and I never yet found a Fern that 

 was taken in by them. If you transplant Septentrionale or 

 a Cystopteris from a rock, so bare that the wonder is how it 

 found sufficient food to sustain life, to si mil ar conditions, it 

 will die. All Ferns in cultivation require depth of soil and 

 good drainage ; so I had a large pit dug and filled with drain- 

 age, then I put in good rich earth and leaf mould. The 

 stones or rock were disposed so as to form compact little 

 beds about a foot square, rising tier above tier, the highest 

 within convenient reach. When completed, the fernery 

 looked like the terrace gardens one sees abroad, and it had 

 a beauty peculiarly its own — a sort of tidy fitness for the 

 purpose it was designed for. 



My fernery was like my book of dried Ferns : for a year 

 or two it presented instances of my failures rather than of 

 my success. I planted large Ferns at the top — Filix-mas 

 cristata, Filix-fcemina with black stalk, Onoclea sensibilis, 

 Lastreas, and Oreopteris. As time went on I found this 

 plan, would not succeed ; the drip from the large Ferns satu- 

 rated the nest tier of plants, and wherever the drip fell the 

 fronds became decayed and mouldy. This I have found to 

 be invariably the case. I also found the plants on the 

 side of the fernery under the shadow of the Elm tree gradu- 

 ally grow unhealthy-looking and dwindle away. A Poly- 

 podium cambricum, which is now a mass of healthy fronds 

 and brown creeping roots, for two years obstinately refused 

 to give me more than two little stunted fronds ; but directly 

 I moved it to an open sunny space it seemed to smile in 

 my face, and very soon new and fine fronds were sent up to 

 thank me. 



Onoclea sensibilis is a native of Virginia,, but it is so hardy 

 and free in its growth that no fernery should be without it. 

 The fronds are large and strongly ribbed, something like 

 the leaves of the Rhubarb : it sends up long bare spikes 

 crowned with fruit, as in Osmunda regalis. Onoclea sen- 

 sibilis is a very Bedouin in its wandering habits. It seldom 

 pitches its tent for two seasons following in the same place. 

 Give it plenty of house room this year, make it never so 

 comfortable, and next year it will pass up far away in the 

 midst of a bed of Dryopteris or Cystopteris. It makes itself 

 at home anywhere, runs up hill or down hill with equal 

 facility, and is never found where it is expected. I soon 

 found the limits of the quiet fernery too circumscribed for 

 the versatile habits of Onoclea ; so I moved it to a larger 

 sphere, where it wins general approbation, and brings up a 

 numerous family creditably. 



The common hedges of "Warwickshire furnished me with 

 Polypodium vulgare, which I planted in the rough crevices 

 of the sides and back of the fernery. It grows well without 

 care wherever there is thorough drainage. It prefers livino- 

 amongst the dibris of decayed wood; and the rich golden 

 fructification against the bright green of the fronds makes 

 it "a thing of beauty," and consequently "a joy for ever," 

 in any situation. 



From the lanes about Fillonghley I brought Asplenium 



trichomanes for the lower terrace. I also found Adiantum- 

 nigrum near Fillonghley. This I planted in the crevices 

 between the blocks of rock in several places, its wavy habit 

 making it very useful for the adornment of the rough stone. 

 The old bridge at Stoneleigh — about which so many a tale 

 and legend exists — furnished Ruta-muraria for my many vain 

 attempts at cultivation. 



In the neighbourhood of Corley Moor I found Lastreas 

 oreopteris, dilatata, and I believe L. spinulosa, also the 

 Filix-fcemina with the black stalk. 



The beautiful lake at Arbury contributed some Osmundas, 

 but they were not born on the soil, so I only placed them 

 by the pondside, looking forward to the time when I should 

 find them growing in a habitation of their own choice. 

 Blechnum spicant, with its curious spikes of fertile fronds, 

 is also common in Warwickshire. It abounds in the hedges 

 and lanes of Exhall, Fillonghley, and many other places, 

 and forms handsome tufts for the lower ranges of a fernery, 

 or for spare corners where wavy green is wanted. I have 

 found it with the ends of the fronds divided, as in the Hart's 

 Tongue ; but the divisions were never more than two, or at 

 the most three, and the duration of the peculiar feature is 

 very uncertain. I have lately bought of Mr. Ivery, at Dork- 

 ing, a very beautiful variety of the Blechnum called ramosum 

 The end of the frond is tufted. I imagine this tuft to have 

 been either made or increased by cultivation, as I have 

 never found a Fern in the wild state approaching to it 

 nearer than the cleft end I have mentioned. I sent to Mr. 

 Ivery at the same time for a Polystichum lonchitis, but I 

 received a plant which appears to be a mild form of lon- 

 chitidioides. The pinnules do not lap over each other; the 

 habit of the Fern is reclinate and flabby instead of firm and 

 erect. It is a young plant, but I fancy I have named it 

 rightly. 



The Scolopendrium vulgare grows plentifully in Warwick- 

 shire, but I have seldom met with any of its many varieties 

 there. About Fillonghley it may be found with its long 

 waving fronds measuring nearly three-quarters of a yard. 

 When the snow hangs in rich wreaths about the hedges in 

 the dear woodlands, and all nature seems dead and shrivelled 

 around, hidden beneath its snow-white veil — under the 

 friendly shelter of the hedge they have made their home, 

 the Scolopendriums hold high revel in their brightest suit of 

 green, laughing at winter's icy touch, knowing it has no 

 power to reach the warm sap that flows beneath their thick 

 coats. 



The woodlands of Warwickshire have a charm that belongs 

 only to themselves, and one that lingers about them through 

 every season of the year. Life there seems to take a richer, 

 fuller tone than elsewhere. The trees strike their roots 

 deep down in the soil, and send up their huge limbs heaven- 

 wards, forming shadows still and deep in the summer time. 

 The thickets are musical above with the song of birds, and 

 beneath lies spread a fairylike carpet of a million wild , 

 flowers. There the lark sings her sweetest song, soaring 

 heavenwards, and the nightingales fill the evening air with 

 melody ; and man, living amidst scenes like this, insensibly 

 shapes his life and inner thoughts into unison with the 

 scenes around him, and, as Warwickshire Will has it — 

 " Finds tongnes in trees, books in the running brooks, 

 Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 



The converse he holds with them is earnest and true ; 

 and whether the biting autumn wind makes him steel his 

 body to endure, or the summer air woos him to gentler 

 thoughts of soft indulgence, he feels in his inmost man, 

 "This is no flattery." 



The intellect of the people bears analogy to this ovrtei 

 life. It may have no wide range, there may be no versatility 

 of genius, but the Warwickshire artisan brings to the foundry 

 or the loom a mind so concentrated on the work before him 

 as to constitute him a workman unsurpassed by any county 

 in England. The language spoken by the people is essen- 

 tially strong and truthful. They tell you their sorrows and 

 their joys with a wonderful open-heartedness, and with a 

 power of thought and freedom of language I have never 

 heard equalled. Church and state are dear to a Warwick- 

 shire man in proportion as the parson " shows a good 

 light," and the master gives a " fair wage for a fair day's 

 work." But I have wandered away from Warwickshire 

 lanes to Warwickshire people — a short digression — for many 



