July 2, 1890.] 



Garden and Forest. 



325 



intense reds and leads one to hope for a pure white form — 

 which would be a grand plant. 



Scabiosa Caucasica is one of the choicest of hardy plants, and 

 indispensable in any garden. The plants are dwarf, and the flow- 

 ers, thrown well above the foliage on long stems, of a light 

 lavender color and some three inches in diameter, areas pleas- 

 ing as useful for cutting. Stock of this plant may be readily 

 had from seed. The plants require a deeply worked soil, and 

 if necessary to shift, it should be done with great care, as the 

 roots extend deeply even in a young state. It seems reliably 

 hardy in all stations in this latitude. 



Silene inflata, the Bladder Campion of Britain, seems to have 

 become naturalized in some of the eastern states, which is 

 scarcely a matter of wonder, as some bits sent me have 

 proved very prolific and vigorous and well able to hold 

 their own among ordinary plants. This is an attractive plant 

 with white flowers, globular capsules and graceful habit. 



Elizabeth, N.J. Lr - 



A beautiful Rose in Mr. Waterer's nursery at Knaphill is the 

 result of a cross between Rosa rugosa and a Hybrid Perpetual 

 variety. It is not an exhibition flower, nor perhaps one that 

 show-flower fanciers would care for; but the blooms are of an 

 intense crimson color and as sweetly scented as the old Cab- 

 bage Rose, while the plant is free both in growth and bloom. 

 This is the kind of Rose that many would admire, although it 

 may show a little of its yellow centre, not only for its color, but 

 sweet scent. A scentless Rose is without its greatest charm. 



The Garden. 



Color in the Borders.— Natural and easy combinations of color 

 in the herbaceous borders are rare. They should not be diffi- 

 cult to obtain, although more forethought and time are required 

 to produce them than in regular bedding arrangements. As the 

 use of hardy plants for supplementing this expensive and un- 

 natural style of gardening is in its infancy, we may, and shall, 

 expect much improvement in the direction of proper arrange- 

 ment of color. To show where experience leads, I can give a 

 case where German Irises were planted indiscriminately 

 among Ghent Azaleas. It was found advisable to remove all 

 bronze and yellow-flowered varieties, as they marred rather 

 than increased the effect intended by planting them. Another 

 accidental case struck me as being to the point. A white and 

 a pink variety of Phlox decussata had been planted near to- 

 gether, so that about a dozen stems of Campanula glomerata 

 (blue-purple) from a neighboring clump fell closely amongst 

 .them; these together made a pleasing combination. For ex- 

 periment I tried placing a few heads of Lychnis Chalcedonica 

 (scarlet) with a view to effect, and also Coreopsis lanceolata 

 (yellow). The combination, I thought, did not need either, 

 and looked worse when both were added than with one only. 

 Tall Delphiniums (blue) and Thermopsis Caroliniana (yellow) 

 go very well together. 



Wellesley, Mass. l.U.rt. 



Correspondence. 

 The Study of Botany. 

 To the Editor of Garden and Forest: 



Sir.— The recent articles in your journal with regard to the 

 development of the powers of observation and the consequent 

 increase of pleasure which spring from even a rudimentary 

 knowledge of botany, have made me notice with especial 

 interest certain passages in that delightful book of Richard 

 Jefferies' called "The Open Air." Jefferies was one of the 

 closest observers of Nature who has ever lived and written, 

 yet throughout his life he prided himself on being a dilettante. 

 I do not know that he would have used this word, but it is the 

 one that fits the case. Nevertheless he was born to be some- 

 thing better. His dislike for the scientific student seems to 

 have been as great, theoretically, as his scorn for the artist. 

 Yet on every page he proves himself an artist born — one who 

 noticed every faintest shade of color, effect of light and sub- 

 tlety of form, and described them in words the full significance 

 of which only an artist or a keen student of art can fully ap- 

 preciate. And, on the other hand, he shows very often a 

 yearning for that exact information which only scientific study 

 could have supplied. In consequence of his neglect of both 

 art and science, he was always a discontented lover of Nature. 

 Finding no outlet for his passion, no purpose in his observing, 

 he was continually questioning why beauty existed, what it 

 implied, and how it was as beneficial as he felt it must be. In 

 the essay called "Wild Flowers" we find singularly contradic- 

 tory passages. For instance, he says, "The first conscious 

 thought about wild flowers was to find out their names— the 

 first conscious pleasure — and then I began to see many that I 



had not previously noticed. Once you wish to identify them 

 there is nothing escapes, down to the little white duckweed of 

 the path and the moss of the wall. . . . Plants everywhere, 

 hiding behind every tree, under the leaves, in the shady places, 

 beside the dry furrows of the field ; they are only just behind 

 something, hidden openly. The instant you look for them 

 they multiply a hundredfold." Does not this suggest a mood 

 which would have turned instinctively to botanical study and 

 to books for easily won information ? But no ; Jefferies 

 confesses how hard it is to discover common names from 

 common people ; he carries books with colored pictures 

 around with him and mourns over their insufficiency and 

 inaccuracy ; he would like a botanist at hand to tell him what 

 this thing is and that ; but further than this in the path of in- 

 quiry he will not go. "If," he says, "some one tells you a 

 plant, you know it at once and never forget it, but to learn it 

 from a book is another matter; it does not at once take root in 

 the mind, it has to be seen several times before you are satis- 

 fied — you waverin your convictions." Could anything be more 

 singular as expressing the feelings of a cultivated man ? It is 

 as though he thought books were something apart from men — 

 were not to be trusted, while the speaking voice might be. 

 And does it not show that, after all, his interest in Nature was 

 chiefly artistic — was concerned with beauty simply, not at all 

 with facts ? Otherwise he would have been impressed by that 

 tracing of relationships between one plant and another which 

 the printed page makes clear as spoken words very seldom can, 

 and would have found his interest immeasurably increased by 

 the ramifying facts thus made plain. It is, indeed, a curious 

 study in psychology that Jefferies' book presents. A careless 

 reader may be deluded by it into thinking that, since Jefferies 

 could enjoy so well and describe so exquisitely, ignorance 

 must be a blessing. But a more careful eye will trace on 

 every page the record of a mutilation of pleasure, a limiting 

 of intelligence, a missing of golden opportunities for which 

 his ignorance of elementary scientific knowledge was alone 

 responsible. He has given us a delightful series of books 

 about Nature ; had he studied a little botany they would have 

 been twice as delightful to us, and he would have got thrice 

 the delight he did from their making. He was always in some 

 puzzle that he could not read, and the naive confession of the 

 fact makes his essays often truly pathetic. Others, however, 

 may profit by his example. The best of his words for them to 

 remember are : " Once you wish to identify them there is 

 nothing escapes ; " and to these I venture to add on my own 

 account, They can be perfectly identified only by a study of 

 botany, and there is no study so easy (as far as the mere 

 nature-lover needs to pursue it) or so pleasurable in itself. 

 For few indeed must be the people in this time and land who 

 share Jefferies' prejudice against books or his greater confi- 

 dence in the spoken word of some chance companion. 

 New York City. George Camming. 



Anthracnose on the Maple. 

 To the Editor of Garden and Forest: 



Sir. — Since the appearance of the note on the Anthracnose 

 on the Oaks upon page 295 of Garden and Forest, many 

 affected Oak-leaves have been sent to me from various parts 

 of the country. Those from Salem County, Massachusetts, 

 were unusually bad, and Mr. John Robinson, a keen student 

 of dendrology, informs me that Buttonwoods never look well 

 there, the leaves drying up in spring as if killed by frost. 

 The purpose of this note, however, is to say that the same 

 blight of the Sycamore and the Oak, Gliosporinm nervisequum, 

 attacks the Maple. A large White Oak tree about a mile from 

 New Brunswick is badly infested with this leaf blight. Stand- 

 ing close to this tree is a Swamp or Red Maple {Acer rubrnm), 

 many of the leaves of which were brown and wrinkled in 

 patches.- These portions are found to be attacked by the 

 same blight and present the peculiar characteristic of forming 

 the spore patches along the leaf nerves as indicated in the 

 specific name of the fungus. The leaves of the Maple upon 

 branches interlocking with those of the deceased Oak were 

 noticeably the most distorted. This makes three distinct groups 

 of forest-trees susceptible to attack from the same Anthracnose. 



Rubers College. , Byron D. Halsted. 



The Blight of the Sycamore. 

 To the Editor of Garden and Forest : 



Sir. — In your issue of last week you ask for notes of the 

 Sycamore disease, Gliosporinm nervisequum. It has been 

 known here for the past twenty years, and those who have 

 been here that long say, "worse this year than ever." It is 

 common at Bloomington, in the central part of the state; at 



