MY SHRUBS 13 
flowers feebly and dwells with a colony of dwarf conifers. Perhaps 
if I set it among flowering plants, it would discover its possibilities 
and hang out more snowy bells in spring. Again, if I were to 
call it “ Cassiope,” it might perchance declare itself, for all gar- 
deners can furnish incidents of plants that languish under one 
name, which will flourish at once when the synonym is provided. 
Anopteris glandulosa is a very fine thing indeed. Above the 
shining laurel-like leaves, hang white waxy flowers as big as a 
snowdrop. It is rare in cultivation, but by challenging your 
nurseryman and hinting that the shrub is beyond his reach, he 
may make an effort and procure it for you. Do not, however, 
suppose he will perform this feat for less than half a guinea; he 
may indeed want more ; and he will have earned it if he procures 
you a good piece. Anopteris flourishes in a garden of a friend, who 
holds it hardy. But his ideas on that subject must be discounted, for 
he dwells beside a tidal river sheltered from all winds that blow. 
Therefore give it your most sheltered spot in half-shade, and guard 
it jealously through the winter. 
A good silky shrub is Anthyllis Barba-fovis—a kidney vetch 
that grows six feet high. Mine, which I collected as a seedling 
beside the Mediterranean, on roasting sun-scorched cliffs, did 
well for many years before it passed away. Its early inflorescence 
of pale butter-colour was often discouraged by frost, but the 
plant prospered until I moved it—a course it resented to the 
extent of perishing. I remember the good thing at Kew, on a 
wall, but know not if it prospers there yet. 
Aralia supplies many handsome species for the garden and 
A. Steboldu, the Japanese evergreen, attains to a great size and 
splendour among us in the West. A. spinosa, the Angelica Tree 
