40 THE PABKS AND GARDENS OF PARIS. [Chap. II. 



we can conceive nothing more beautiful than a veil of such a one 

 as Clematis montana suspended from the branch of a tall tree. A 

 ■whole host of lovely plants may be grown in this way, apart from 

 the well-known and popular climbing plants. There are, for 

 example, many species of Clematis which have never come into 

 cultivation, but which are quite as beautiful as climbers can be. 

 The same may be said of the Honeysuckles, wild Vines, and 

 various other families the names of which may be found in cata- 

 logues. In consequence, however, of the fact that no system of 

 growing these plants to advantage has ever been carried out in 

 our gardens, nurseries are by no means so rich in them as could 

 be desired. Much of the northern tree and shrub world is gar- 

 landed with creepers, which may be grown in the way suggested 

 and in similar ones, as, for example, on banks and in hedgerows. 

 The naked stems of the trees in our pleasure-grounds, however, 

 have the first claim on our attention in planting garlands. There 

 would seldom be reason to fear injury to established trees. 



The view showing the effect of Clematis on trees is drawn and 

 engraved from a photograph taken in May, showing an old and 

 vigorous plant of the handsome and hardy Clematis montana 

 allowed to have its own way to some extent. This climbing 

 shrub, of which the large -flowered variety called grandiflora is 

 grown here and there on walls, is most precious for those who 

 wish to garland trees and stumps and hedges with lovely flowers. 

 It is as hardy and free as the common English Clematis vitalba. 

 The sketch will also suggest to many various ways in which 

 hardy climbers may be used to produce similar beautiful effects. 

 Other families of climbers might be named as equally useful, 

 but the Clematises are so numerous, so hardy, so beautiful in 

 flower, and so singularly varied in the colour and form of their 

 blossoms, that whole wild gardens of beauty may be formed of 

 them alone. 



After the great central blemish of monotony in gardens, few of 

 the secondary ones call for censure more loudly than needless ugly 

 structures. No doubt the majority of these unfortunate erections 

 have some reason to be : they are simply in the wrong position. A 

 good, honest black saucepan in the middle of the dining-room table 

 would not be more incongruous than a tool-shed is in the middle 

 of Cavendish Square. In the Pare Monceau there are several 



