332 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 443. 



need still more is a wider appreciation of and love for 

 natural beauty. The people who take a genuine delight in 

 natural scenery and are conscious of its soothing influence 

 are not likely to deface or destroy it. Besides this they 

 can realize that others have rights in the general beauty of 

 the land in which they live, and they can be persuaded to 

 respect those rights. Neither you nor I may have a legal 

 property right in Niagara or the field of Gettysburg, but 

 every American would feel that he was robbed of some- 

 thing to which he had a moral right if either of these places 

 were turned over to sordid use. The sublimity, the poetry, 

 the inspiration of places like these are a common heritage. 

 These influences should be guarded as jealously as any 

 other common right. 



Under the title of "The Coming Fruit," Dr. D. Morris, of 

 Kew, not long since wrote a letter to The Saturday Reviav, 

 urging upon the people of the West India Islands to estab- 

 lish groves of Grape-fruit trees of the best quality. When 

 passing through New York in the early part of this year, 

 Dr. Morris was very strongly impressed by the quantity of 

 this fruit which the New York market was demanding, and 

 our readers will, perhaps, remember an article in the 

 present volume of Garden and Forest, on page 163, in 

 which he gives a sketch of the origin and history of the 

 Shaddock, Pomelo, Grape-fruit, Forbidden-fruit and other 

 varieties which belong to this group of Citrus fruits, and 

 are botanically classified under the species Citrus decu- 

 mana. They are quite distinct botanically from true 

 Oranges, Citrons or other groups of the Orange family, 

 and since they have mostly been raised from seed with lit- 

 tle care given to selection, they vary widely in quality. 

 The frost which ruined the Orange groves of Florida has 

 temporarily shortened the supply, and Dr. Morris quotes a 

 paragraph from this paper recalling the sale of small-sized 

 grape-fruit at thirty dollars a barrel. This means a retail 

 price of at least a dollar each, and is, as Dr. Morris sug- 

 gests, probably the highest price ever paid for specimens of 

 the orange tribe. 



No doubt, it will be a long time before there is any over- 

 production of grape-fruit, since the demand for it increases 

 every year, and it is constantly becoming more popular as 

 a breakfast fruit. It is beautiful, is said to have medicinal 

 value, and the more it is used the more highly it is rel- 

 ished. Beyond question it would be a profitable fruit to 

 raise in the West Indies, and probably the English people 

 will in time prize it more highly than they now do, and 

 furnish an additional outlet for West Indian groves. Since 

 the Florida frost this country has absorbed almost the 

 whole West India supply, although much of it has been 

 very inferior in quality. How does it happen that the 

 enterprising orchardists of California have not been awake 

 to the situation ? There is no reason why they should not 

 supply the east during a part of the year with all the grape- 

 fruit needed. The limited quantities thus far received from 

 California have lacked weight and juiciness. Wherever the 

 fruit is grown it should be borne in mind that the highest 

 success will only come with the use of the best varieties. 

 There is no need to grow the thick-skinned and bitter 

 sorts, or those with a dry, cottony pulp, when there are 

 varieties both of the apple-shaped and pear-shaped fruits 

 with silky skin, full of juice and of a most delightful 

 flavor, with just enough bitter to give it piquancy and sug- 

 gest its tonic quality. 



An April Scene in Central Park. 



BY the time this paper reaches our readers it is to be 

 hoped that the weather will be cooler, but as we write 

 the country is passing through one of those periods of intense 

 heat, accompanied by a high percentage of humidity, which 

 are characteristic of our climate. The deaths in this city 

 and its suburbs, directly due to the temperature, during 

 the past week are numbered by hundreds, so that the 

 cool picture on page 335 seems like a mockery, or, at least, 

 not especially seasonable. We present it at this time, 



however, not primarily because of its beauty, although on 

 the day when it was taken there were many portions of 

 Central Park where the branches of conifers, bending be- 

 neath their weight of snow, made strikingly beautiful com- 

 binations. Just now, however, it will help to illustrate in 

 a forcible way the character of our short spring season it 

 the date of this snow-storm is taken in connection with the 

 weather which immediately followed. On the fourth of 

 April last the thermometer registered twenty-four degrees, 

 Fahrenheit, and on the day preceding the mean between 

 the lowest and highest temperature was two degrees below 

 the freezing-point. Just one week later the mercury had 

 risen to seventy-nine degrees, where it remained for two 

 days, then rose on the 1 6th as high as eighty-seven de- 

 grees, and on the 1 8 1 h , only eleven days after the snow- 

 storm, it touched ninety-one degrees, which is about the 

 temperature of these August days, when men and horses 

 are dropping dead in the street from the heat. Nor did it 

 at once subside to what may be called normal April 

 weather, but it kept about eighty degrees for several days 

 following. Of course, a temperature like this forced early 

 vegetation into something like a hot-house growth. As 

 the result of this August weather the Yulan Magnolias 

 burst into bloom in mid-April, close after M. stellata, with 

 the Forsythias, our native Spice-wood, Cornus mas, the 

 early Bush Honeysuckles and some of the Prunuses, while 

 the Peach-trees were in full bloom only a few days later. 



All this can be readily understood by persons who are 

 familiar with our spring weather, but it is so remote from 

 any experience of our English readers that they can hardly 

 appreciate such an abrupt transformation. As a rule, the 

 early bulbous plants commence to flower in England sev- 

 eral weeks before they do in this country, and then slowly 

 and gradually there follow two or three months of spring 

 weather until summer arrives in earnest. It may be prac- 

 tically winter here while Daffodils in England are at their 

 best. But in a few days the season here will be abreast ot 

 the year in London, as our summer follows hard upon the 

 heels of winter. One morning the woods will show a mist 

 of tender green and the next they will appear almost in full 

 leaf. Of course, such climatic difference as this must be 

 taken into account when we undertake to grow plants 

 which have developed under widely different conditions. 

 No doubt, the people of England prefer their springs, and 

 we can understand how attractive their slowly developing 

 spring gardens must be. But we do not forget that the 

 sudden leap into summer also has points of interest for the 

 lover of nature, wild and cultivated. The new creation is 

 a fresh surprise to us every year, and the suddenness with 

 which vegetation bursts into life never fails to bring new 

 surprises. 



The Pines in August. 



THE Pines near the coast are brilliant now with the 

 Swamp Hibiscus. This magnificent plant, with large 

 showy flowers five and six, and some even seven inches 

 across, are thickly scattered over large areas. Some of the 

 plants bear pure white flowers, others are white with a 

 deep crimson eye, while others have varying shades of 

 rose and peach-blossom color. It grows fairly well in the 

 garden. Three or four summers ago I planted a small 

 seedling in the border ; to-day it has six stout stems with 

 numerous branches laden with flowers, and is one of the 

 most conspicuous things in the garden. Some of the 

 flowers are seven inches in diameter, pure white, with 

 a crimson eye. Kosteletzkia is a handsome plant of 

 the same family, much like the Hibiscus, only smaller 

 every way ; the rose-purple flowers are about two inches 

 across and do not vary in color like the Hibiscus. It is 

 quite common near Wildwood, but not so abundant as the 

 Hibiscus. Not far from Kosteletzkia the Glade Mallow, 

 Napcea, is growing in a place where I supposed no con- 

 spicuous plant could escape me, yet here it was in an open 

 damp place near a railroad. It is a tall herb with very 

 large leaves, and the flowers are so arranged that with the 



