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far east as the Rockies. The hardiest form 
will stand the winters near Boston, if heavily 
mulched. This species also needs full sun- 
shine and extra good drainage. 
The chief reason why this plant should be 
put in a separate genus from Spirza is that 
its fruit is an achene instead of a follicle. The 
latter splits open when ripe, the other does not. 
For the same reason many of the herbaceous 
spireas should go into the genus Ulmaria. 
A FLAT-CLUSTERED OUTLAW—NINEBARK 
Next to Van Houtte’s spirea (the one that 
everybody loves the most) I should rank the 
ninebark, because it has the same gracefully 
arching stems lined with the same sort of 
flat clusters of white flowers, appearing with 
the latest of the spring-blooming spireas in 
June, and lasting into July. The distin- 
guishing beauty of the ninebark is its shining 
red fruits which become attractive toward 
the end of summer, whereas the fruits of the 
true spireas are dull and unsightly. Any- 
body can tell it at sight from a spirea by the 
leaf, which is like that of a snowball, being 
three-lobed. And now the meaning of the 
scientific names is clear. ‘Physocarpus” 
refers to the inflated fruit (reason enough 
for taking this plant out of the genus Spirea) 
and “opulifolius” means that the leaf looks 
like the opulus or snowball. Another 
marked botanical difference is that the nine- 
bark leaves have big stipules that soon fall 
off, while the true spireas have no stipules. 
This plant would come into competition 
with the high-bush cranberry, which is the 
single-flowered form of the snowball (Vzbur- 
num Opulus), except that the ninebark 
blooms about a month later. The flower 
clusters of the cranberry bush are twice as 
large, and the berries are not only shapelier 
but they last much longer (all winter). 
However, the flower clusters are terminal, 
while those of the ninebark are lateral, so that 
the one is the showier and the other the more 
graceful. I believe that the ninebark makes 
a handsomer specimen and the cranberry 
bush is better for mass effects in shrubberies. 
The ninebark grows eight or ten feet high 
and belongs to the cheap, rampant, unkill- 
able class. It is sometimes used for tall 
hedges. Some people believe it is the fastest 
growing hardy shrub in cultivation. It 
grows wild from Canada to Georgia and 
Kansas and every nursery in the land has it 
in quantity. The name “ninebark” doubt- 
less has something to do with the bark peeling 
off in thin strips. 
I have now redeemed my promise of 
describing the shrubs that everybody calls 
spireas, except the botanists, but I cannot 
resist the temptation to describe the other 
shrubby allies of Spireea even if they have a 
very different type of beauty. 
LARGE-FLOWERED RELATIVES OF SPIRAA 
There are a few nurserymen old-fashioned 
enough to call the pearl bush “Spirea 
grandiflora, but its correct name is Exo- 
chorda grandiflora. Were we have the other 
extreme—large flowers and few in a cluster, 
instead of small flowers in large clusters. 
The white five-petaled blossoms are about 
THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 
an inch across, yet Wyman says “the indi- 
vidual flowers are of no value.”” Doubtless, 
he means that they look too much like a 
thousand-and-one other members of the rose 
family, such as plum, cherry, raspberry, and 
I agree that life is too short to try to distin- 
guish a whole lot of flowers of this type that 
are inferior to apple blossoms and roses. 
But the mass effect of the pearl bush is 
certainly lovely. The bush attains a height 
of eight or ten feet and in April or May when 
in full bloom it looks like a snowbank. I 
could never see any point in growing it as a 
specimen, for its foliage and fruit are unin- 
Jury, 1908 
The only yellow-flowered relative of the 
spireas is Kerria Japonica, often catalogued 
as a Corchorus, and commenly known as 
“globe flower” or “ Japanese rose,” both of 
which are utterly misleading. It has yellow 
blossoms an inch or two across, either single 
or double, but they always seem trifling to 
me. Also the branches are weak, slender 
and featureless, butin winter they turn 
bright green, and this trait is the one I 
value most, though the leaves assume a fair 
yellow in autumn. I wish that some ama- 
teur would try to cross the Kerria with 
Exochorda, Rhodotypos and Spirza, in the 
Showing how the ‘‘outlawed’’ spireas beat the true spireas in size and fluffiness of cluster. The beam- 
leaved spirea is the showy one; at the left is a glimpse of the dense, stiff, conical clusters of a true spirea 
teresting, but when used in quantity as 
Eastern millionaires use it at their “spring 
homes” it certainly does strike an important 
note at the dramatic moment. 
The Rhodotypos is another white-flowered 
shrub that every gardener knows, because it 
is the only member of the Spirza tribe that 
has four petals instead of five, and it is still 
more celebrated for having its berries in 
clusters of four. These shining, reddish 
black berries are attractive all autumn and 
half the winter and are very interesting as 
you pass them, but not showy at a distance. 
The bush grows four to six feet high and 
blooms in May or June. 
hope of getting the yellow flowers, ever- 
blooming habit, and green winter branches 
associated with taller and hardier plants 
with large flower clusters. It would be worth 
while to save pollen of Kerria in bottles until 
the summer spireas bloom. Ten to one the 
amateur would get nothing for his pains; 
on the other hand he might get in five or ten 
years something worth $200 to $500. 
SMALL-FLOWERED, BUT INTERESTING 
I shall never forget the first time I saw 
that rare shrub, the snow wreath or Neviusa. 
I had to whoop aloud. “Well, you are an 
enthusiast,” remarked the nurseryman who 
