2 MY SHRUBS 
equals. One hates the pruning knife, yet it has to be used, and 
if used at the right time (after flowering as a rule) no great harm 
is done. I can seldom point to “ specimens,” yet specimens 
occasionally occur here of precious things whose adult size permits 
them to reach perfection without hindrance ; and, happily, among 
these may be seen my favourite plant, Rhododendron campylo- 
carpum, a fine, well-favoured piece, seven feet high. 
Here, on our limestone crags, rhododendrons and American 
plants in general are a test by which you may separate real gar- 
deners from those who merely profess and call themselves such. 
There are, for instance, women in this locality who pass for dis- 
tinguished horticulturalists, yet exhibit neither rhododendron nor 
azalea in all their glades. If cross-examined, they answer, readily 
enough, that limestone is death to these fine things, and that 
they are therefore impossible. Yet these women, who would 
shudder at the thought of a ten-pound note for a peat-bed, will 
spend twice that amount on a hat. A glimpse of the glories of 
the rhododendron race is as nothing to them against a yard of 
ribbon and half a dead bird, or a stick of asparagus, perched above 
their fair brows. They are good and gracious creatures, success- 
ful mothers and wives, but they are not gardeners at all, and must 
neither claim nor be granted that distinction. Peat, then, we need 
here, but into no limestone graves are we to thrust it, as I have 
done to my cost. The peat should be heaped above the limestone, 
so that your rhododendrons, azaleas and the rest have their roots 
safe out of the reach of the nether fires. Build your peat in islands 
rising full three feet above the stormy seas of lime, that autumnal 
rains set flowing, and all should be well. In my experience few 
really choice shrubs have much use for lime save the roses. Many 
