22 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 318. 



the effect of a forest-cover upon the maintenance of streams 

 and the regulation of their flow. There is little doubt but 

 that the Senate of the state will act favorably upon this 

 measure, and although the sum appropriated for carrying 

 it out is only $5,000, an amount which seems altogether 

 inadequate for the proper prosecution of the work, the state 

 is to be congratulated upon making the first step toward 

 establishing a forest-policy. Such a policy ought ulti- 

 mately to include an organization represented in every 

 township of the state, so that forest-fires could be kept under 

 control, and a corps of young men, brought into direct con- 

 tact with all the woodlands of the state, could be educated 

 in the elements of practical forestry. 



Northern New Jersey is a rolling country, much of it 

 broken and mountainous, a country of lakes and sparkling 

 brooks and wooded slopes, and it is a matter of more than 

 local importance that these woods and waters so near to 

 the millions of people who swarm around New York Bay 

 should be .preserved. With winter resorts on the Pine 

 levels, summer homes among the hills and a sea-coast of 

 unusual attractiveness, and all these within easy reach of 

 New York and Philadelphia, New Jersey has resources 

 quite as productive as her rich mines and fertile fields. 

 The preservation of beautiful lake and woodland scenery, 

 of wholesome and pleasant places of refuge, to which the 

 city-wearied can turn for refreshment, is certainly demanded 

 by the enlightened self-interest as well as the broad public 

 spirit of the citizens of that state. 



A Garden of Irises. 



OF the flowers which chiefly appeal to the poetic feel- 

 ing of the Japanese, and move their admiration and 

 enthusiasm, the Iris comes filth on the list in its time of 

 flowering. Earlier in the year the Mume, the Cherry, the 

 Pseony and the Wistaria have each in turn enjoyed their 

 fetes. Early in June the Iris has its short period of splen- 

 dor, and then gives way to the Convolvulus, the Lotus, and 

 finally to the Chrysanthemum, which closes the Japanese 

 floral calendar. 



Among the comparatively small number of plants to 

 which the Japanese have devoted themselves with the view 

 of increasing the beauty of their flowers, the Iris certainly 

 represents their greatest achievement. Other plants, much 

 cultivated in Japan, and greatly changed by cultivation 

 from their original forms, like the Pa?ony and the Chrys- 

 anthemum, are of Chinese origin, and were cultivated in 

 China for centuries before their introduction into the 

 Mikado's empire. But the Iris is a Japanese plant ; and if 

 the species (Iris laevigata) that is cultivated in Japan grows 

 also in China, which is probable, it is not, so far as we 

 have been able to learn, a favorite garden-plant, like the 

 Peeony and the Chrysanthemum, in that country. By per- 

 fecting the flowers of this Iris, and by raising the splen- 

 did varieties with which we have become familiar here 

 in America during the last ten years, the Japanese 

 have made a distinct and valuable contribution to the 

 aesthetic equipment of the world, which should in some 

 measure, at least, atone for the horticultural monstrosities 

 with which they have inundated us. 



The Iris, although its flowering makes a fete in the capi- 

 tal, is much less generally cultivated throughout the empire 

 than several other flowers. A corner of low ground is 

 sometimes reserved for it in large gardens, but its moisture- 

 loving constitution, and the fact that it only produces its 

 best results when grown under special conditions, make 

 its general cultivation difficult and unsatisfactory. 



The great centre of Iris cultivation in Japan is the com- 

 paratively small garden, of which a photograph is repro- 

 duced on page 125 of this issue, where the best varieties 

 imported from Japan have been raised. It is situated in Hori- 

 kiri, a suburb of Tokyo, largely given up to small florists' 

 establishments, and reached by the avenue of Cherry-trees 

 in Mukojima, which in April, when the trees are in flower, 

 is counted one of the chief sights of Japan. 



The Iris garden occupies an irregular-shaped basin, sur- 

 rounded by artificial mounds planted with evergreen trees, 

 and affording at different points opportunities to look down 

 upon the flowers from open summer-houses. Near the 

 middle of the garden stands the tea-house, which is found 

 in every Japanese garden, large or small, where visitors 

 are refreshed with small cups of straw-colored tea and 

 sweet cakes. Near the entrance is a large shed, which ap- 

 pears in the centre of our illustration, where the workmen 

 live and plants are packed to send away. The remain- 

 der of the level surface, perhaps half or three-quarters of 

 an acre in extent, is divided into irregular-shaped small 

 beds, divided by narrow walks, raised about eighteen inches 

 above the general surface of the ground. The plants are 

 set in the beds in straight rows, three feet apart, and are 

 arranged according to the colors of the flowers, each row- 

 being made of plants bearing flowers of the same colors. 

 The rows are also arranged in the beds according to the 

 color of the flowers, from the one with the lightest-colored 

 flowers at one end, to that with the darkest-colored flowers 

 at the other. The sunken beds permit the flooding of the 

 plants during their period of active growth, and during the 

 summer the surface of the ground, which is covered with 

 a thick layer of night-soil, is kept so wet that it would be 

 impossible to walk dry-shod through the garden without 

 the raised paths. 



It is not improbable that the limit of perfection in the 

 flowers of the Iris of this particular species has been reached 

 in the Horikiri garden. Certainly, none of the varieties 

 which have been raised in the United States or in Europe 

 equal its standard types in perfection of form or in bril- 

 liancy and delicacy of coloring. 



How our Conifers have Wintered. 



THE intense cold of the last week in February, fol- 

 lowed by the sudden heat of March, has injured the 

 little Conifers that have been struggling for an existence in 

 a wind-swept shrubbery through several dry summers and 

 autumns. Unless the ground is well filled with moisture 

 before it freezes up for the winter the roots of these trees 

 cannot honor the drafts for water which the leaves and 

 branches make as they dry out in the wind. This year 

 White Spruces have suffered severely, and young Norway 

 Spruces, planted last summer in a spot where they could 

 not be constantly watered, seem to be quite dead, in spite 

 of a mulching of strawy litter in the autumn. The tips of 

 Hemlock, not in moist places, always turn brown in the 

 March sun and remain in a discouraged condition until 

 late in May, when they seem to pull themselves together 

 and take a fresh start. Even some of those on the north- 

 west corner of the house, where they are not much exposed 

 to sunshine, look as if their upper branches were entirely 

 dead. The Carolina Hemlock does better with us under 

 the same conditions than the native tree. One that was 

 moved last summer shows a suffering top, but the one 

 which remained undisturbed is green and vigorous. It is 

 a beautiful little tree and a rapid grower, even in the dry 

 location where it has to stand. 



As to Pines, they are always a hopeless-looking lot in 

 early spring and have a distressed and wilted air which 

 looks like a protest against the climate. The foreign ever- 

 greens, on the contrary, bear up well, and the delicate 

 Japanese Cypresses, the Chameecyparis and the Retinisporas, 

 maintain a vigorous appearance, which is a reproach to 

 their lackadaisical and discontented Puritan cousins. Why 

 should Pines and Junipers, born beneath these vigorous 

 skies and exposed from infancy to the stony soil and bitter 

 blasts of a New England pasture, sulk and misbehave in a 

 cold winter, when a Japanese tree, apparently a much 

 more delicate and pleasure-loving Conifer, used to a politer 

 climate, can brace up and make no fuss at all ? 



Is it the old contrast between the thorough-bred and the 

 scrub, a certain adaptability and elasticity under new 



