124 MY SHRUBS 
it, referred to Pieris or Andromeda. 1 mean Z. speciosa, from the 
United States, praised elsewhere as Pieris cassinefolia. This is 
among the most beautiful treasures in the garden. Give it half shade 
and peat, or good loam free of lime, and you should succeed, and 
rejoice at the splendid thing when June returns. 
Zizyphus 1 do not see in the catalogues, though Z. lotus, a 
South European, should be very nearly hardy. ‘This, according 
to legend, yielded the sweet fare of the Lotophagi. Z. vulgaris, 
whose fruits are still appreciated, is counted hardy by Nicholson. 
These good shrubs should be introduced. Z. jujuba is the Jujube 
Tree, a species much cultivated, but only to be grown in the green- 
house at home. The last-named grows under glass at Kew, and they 
have Z. vulgaris in the open ; but neither fruits there. 
And now, before you escape, let me say a few words. It must 
not be suspected from this list of names, for the most part ugly, 
that I am one of those hopeless subjects, a gardener who only collects 
plants as other people collect postage stamps—for their rarity. I 
spurn the suggestion. No plant is here for its rarity, and few are rare. 
I could not be a competitive gardener, and would deprecate the least 
effort at competition even if it were possible. A shrub that has 
nothing else to commend it but its rarity possesses no charm for 
me. One’s concern is to collect beautiful things for delight and not 
for pride. My garden is too trifling even to make a rite of showing 
it. You may complete an ambit in two minutes. The spot is 
merely an extension of study and workroom—a private sanctity in 
whose adornment I take my pleasure. There is no question of 
fashion here, for it violates all the latest theories of what a small 
garden should be; rather is it a manifestation of individual taste 
