MY SHRUBS 81 
but has wintered well with the protection of a mat at times of 
frost. The flower is pink and the foliage curiously blistered— 
hence the name. The mature leaves turn a dull pink. M. Luma 
has snow-white, fragrant flowers and a fine free habit. I have but 
trifling plants ; but know of some in Cornwall that stand five and 
twenty feet high. This is among the most splendid of Chilians, 
and the shining evergreen foliage against the red bark of the 
boughs is a delight when the noble shrub is out of flowering. 
M. Ugni’s beautiful flower bells are a pale pink, and its berries, 
after a hot summer, ripen into the most delicious fruit. One 
cannot imagine a more aromatic and choice dessert. From 
Valdivia comes this invaluable myrtle, and it is worthy of a 
warm wall. Should Providence smile, and send you a crop of 
fruits, net them, otherwise your birds will have them before you 
do. Her Majesty Queen Victoria was fond of these myrtle berries, 
and they are really a dish to set before a queen. My plant 
stands four feet high, and is still growing. The real name of 
M. Luma, by the way, is Eugenia apiculata, but when you have 
once gone to the expense of a metal label, you ignore the vagaries 
of science, and cleave to the old paths. After all, it doesn’t 
really matter to you what I call my shrubs, any more than it 
matters to me what you call your golf clubs. 
Myrtus tormentosa, from China, must be a very noble myrtle, 
with white woolly buds, and bright pink blossoms as large as a 
penny piece. It flourished at Kew nearly a hundred and fifty 
years ago, but I know not if the Royal Gardens still possess this 
beautiful plant. Perhaps, like many a treasure from the past, 
it has gone out of cultivation. Curtis suspects that a greenhouse 
might serve its purpose rather than the stove; but possibly, 
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