November 5» l8 9 8 * 



GARDENERS' 



MAGAZINE. 



715 



leaves From a Rambler's Note-book. 



INTERESTING CORNERS. 



a 1 most every garden has its quiet nooks and interesting corners, to 

 hich it is a relief sometimes to escape from everything flavouring 

 \ rule and practice, and seek solace in Nature as she is found there, with 

 oerhaps an addition of history and romance. There are doubtless those 

 ^ho have an eye for nothing but the practical work-a-day side of garden- 

 j n <7-the sowing, planting, potting, pruning, and al) the rest of it— and 

 such of course find no pleasure m the interesting corners that delight 

 others cast in a different mould. The same may be said of gardening 

 literature. We have so much that is doubtless sound, practical, and 

 aood, that to read assiduously is keeping abreast of the times, but by the 

 time one has gone carefully through a long practical essay, and reached 

 the end, there is a demand for variety and change which is found 

 in the interesting corners of literature ; for, though only a limited 

 number of writers have found it out, there are many phases of the garden, 

 not necessarily practical, which have rarely or never been touched upon, 

 whilst everyday matters have been worn threadbare. 5 Tis good some- 

 times to break away from rule and seek variety, hence no apology is 

 offered for leaving that which, though all-important, becomes a little 

 tedious, and dwelling briefly on a few impressions gathered in the nooks 

 and corners of the garden. 



I have said that nearly every garden possesses its interesting 

 corners, and the more ancient the garden the more interesting the 

 nooks. Rarely are these points shown when paying a visit. ? Tis the 

 gardener's office to show you the garden, and in the good man's idea 

 these are only bits thrown in He cheerfully leads the way through the 

 jeenhouses, the vegetable, fruit, and other departments, naturally thinking 

 These are all you have come to see, but you find the interesting corners 

 yourself in passing from one point to another. What greater relief could 

 one have, when getting a little wearied with the stereotyped, than to find 

 oneself, without hardly being aware of it, in a half-hidden, half-wild bit of 

 arden approached by a narrow winding path that appears to have chosen 

 its own meandering route, in order to make the surprise greater when you 

 reach the end? Such a spot gives you the most comforting impression 

 of a garden— rest. There may be nothing special there, nothing to 

 merest the expert or the sternly practical gardener, but there is an air 

 of repose, a semi-wild luxuriance of vegetation, a kind of miniature 

 garden all its own that cannot fail to appeal to one. Yet there may be 

 more. There is interest even in the ivy creeping over the tree stumps, 

 or the blue periwinkles peeping out from among the bushes. There may 

 be greater interest in such a spot, but you must penetrate to find it. It 

 is cool and shady, and the semi-natural, semi-artificial attempt at rockery 

 is not there with any idea of approaching the artistic, but rather to form 

 a home for the little alpine and rock plants that peep out from the 

 recesses Many gardens possess such a corner, but minus the alpines, 

 •nd a charming addition is lost. It would serve no purpose to mention 

 names, as the family is so large, but they adapt themselves perfectly to 

 Altered corners, and in such spots their simple beauty may be appre- 

 ciated to the fullest. Neither is animate nature wanting. Song-birds 

 Mild fearlessly in the bushes, and on spring days it is the resort of the 

 cuckoo, and when shadows fall the nightingale takes up the thread. Who 

 win say that such a coiner is not crowded with interest ? 



int,w we ": known garden I could mention one of the prettiest and most 



frTnu ng u 15 ra J ely Seen from the most adv antageous point ; in the 

 1 p ace , because few know where that point is, and, secondly, because 



douhTl^c" , aCCeSS - ■ In this intere sting corner there is water, and 

 shan r7 °i n f time there was an intention to make it a feature in the 

 evXmi an k ela J borat 1 e cascade. For some reason or other the idea was 

 assS^ but not before som ething had been done, and the 



imSriiS J art , at l - hat time rendered t0 mature is now charmingly 



but herp t^ C?SCa Wlth ° nly a driblet of water is but a P° or a P ol °gy> 

 stones VJa ,S an abun dance, which tumbles over the moss-covered 



Wossomrtili C ^T PS ^ ro "£ h the roa sses of bogbean and yellow May 

 isitors npLn ♦ ♦!? CS , ^ Self ln a dimi nutive marsh at the bottom. Most 

 for the n v2 th e dripping water from the top, where little can be seen 



kautv oflhif T 11 Shes that crowd each side ' To appreciate the wild 

 Pound now Ki ereSt L n ? COrner one must carefully pick a way over the boggy 

 ^h bv th^iH % W1 ? for &et-me-nots, and follow the slippery overgrow^ 

 fcf over thT ? cascade from the base. A weeping willow droops 

 rustic seat tu at the bottom , and under its spreading branches is a 

 Pown and *? a PP roac h is by stepping-stones 

 Scarle't Very exls tence of the retreat 



banaa^r n 0rn > white lilac, laburnum, and guel 



seems quite forgotten. 



°ooks are the Vi r V s * ¥VOtCA 3 CU 5 C * s«aay oanKs ana rocky 



f ern 'Osmunda T<?Jl T*' .v He / e j S ? n clum P of the R °y al 



form 

 •as 



Time 

 of garden 



1,1 ken aDn ar< fn t , We r e Planted with care ' and thou & h th at bit 

 Nation his 1, 7 fo !' yotten > «™d has a half-neglected look about it, 



S P ros Pered, and the work of years ago is still apparent. 



5"% coSeo?H ^t 5565 . a cemet ery, and though a burial-ground is 

 S? 0111 h *n< s ov^r H sa 1 thoughts and recalls painful partings, no such 

 U? thc remain^ e S^den cemetery. It is an interesting spot, where 

 Z^dinarv saL \ S u™ 6 faithful horse or dog that for long service or 

 f? vt I know of y u been P er P e tu a ted to memory by a honoured 

 S, a fa 'thfui char ■ a corner in a garden where the last resting-place 



insrrir£ er lS ™ arked by a moss-covered stone, bearing the 

 nscr.pt.on: "This gallant horse carried his mister, 



Captain ■ 

 Waterloo 



— , in the battles of Salamanca, Vittoria, Nivelles, and 

 He lived to a great age, and was buried here with appro- 

 priate honours." The date follows, but it has slipped my memory. 

 Shades of the past ! What more appropriate burial-place than a nook in 

 the garden would one desire for a creature that played a part in over- 

 throwing one of the mightiest dynasties the world has ever known ? In 

 the gardens at Tredegar Park, Monmouthshire, in a quiet, secluded spot 

 a stone column is reared over the remains of ahorse that carried his master 

 the present Lord Tredegar, through the valley of death at Balaclava. He 

 bore his rider safe through the ill-fated charge "and back from the jaws of 

 death," and in doing so earned a lasting reputation and a monument 

 Ivy creeps now round the foot of the stone, and there is nothing in the 

 surroundings to attract the attention of a gardener, yet the spot to any 

 visitor is one of the most interesting in the grounds. These are but a 

 couple of solitary instances in the many that, no doubt, exist where the 

 bones of faithful animals are given a honoured resting-place in the 

 garden. 



ticularly so in a garden. 



There is always a charm about a bit or crumbling ruin in a garden, 

 though it is, of course, quite distinct from anything connected with cul- 

 tivation. The crumbling masonry, held together only by the tendrils of 

 ivy, tells an unwritten story of the past. All decoration may be gone 

 from the embrasured windows where now flourish flowers and weeds 

 that owe their existence to the birds that deposited the seeds there. At 

 night the screech owl hoots round the ruined battlements, and late-roost- 

 mg birds hustle into the ivy at the warning of danger. A few stunted old 

 roses grow outside the walls. They may be ancient, or they may be 

 modern, but there is no record of them, and you like to think that they 

 or their parents were prized in the garden when the ruin was the home 

 of some vassalled lord of the manor. All ruins are cherished, and par- 



1 have yet to meet the man possessing one of 

 these bits of antiquity who did not cherish the fragments of crumbling 

 masonry with a jealous pride, and guard them with as great care as 

 any of the modern portion of his establishment. History repeats itself. 

 Once the pile was fortified and protected against the onslaughts of 

 enemies. Now there is nothing left but a few bits of decaying ruin, but 

 as jealously protected as of yore, though now the enemy is Time. The 

 old pile is surrounded by legend and story which no one thinks of 

 questioning or contradicting, and every nook and crevice in the tottering 

 fragment seems to be filled with a little history of its own. Moss covers 

 the pavements on which barons once trod, old-fashioned flowers flourish 

 where armed men fought Nothing original would be in keeping there, 

 and though old and tottering, half wild, and apparently uncared for, the 

 ruin will be, as long as it stands, one of the most interesting corners in 

 the garden. - n 



Autumn Colours. 



There are many trees and shrubs in the pleasure grounds which pre- 

 sent the most artistic colouring every autumn, and some of these are of 

 exceptional beauty this year, owing, no doubt, to the very bright 

 and late sunny season. First and foremost in point of beauty was the 

 tulip tree, Liriodendron tulipifera. This tree was most charming with 

 its intensely golden leaves, and could be seen from a long distance ; this 

 season it carries a lot of seed pods, which I am anxious to see ripen. 

 This tree, when well grown, is very handsome, especially when clothed 

 to the ground ; it is easily grown, and as a deciduous tree has few equals 

 for lawn and park ornamentation, as it will grow in nearly any soil. 

 Koelreuteria paniculata is another tree that is unusually beautiful this 

 season, its leafage being of a very bright and striking yellow, very similar 

 to the colour of its flowers. Leycesteria formosa was also very striking, 

 and is well worthy of a situation in the shrubbery, especially where a 

 taller tree grows above it ; this shrub will grow in partial shade and in 

 cool ground, and, in fact, hardly any place could be found where it will 

 not thrive. It is an erect grower, with long pendulous racemes of white 

 and purple flowers. 



Amelanchier canadensis is a small tree, remarkable for its perfect 

 autumn colouring of golden yellow tinged with red. Cotoneaster Sim- 

 mondsi is one mass of red berries, these making a beautiful contrast to 

 the rich hues of the decaying foliage ; C. frigida is likewise one mass of 

 berries, and one of the most handsome features of the shrubbery ; C. 

 nummularia, with its dark purple berries, is also very attractive. These 

 cotoneasters are easily raised from seed, and soon become nice specimens 

 in nearly any soil from sand to clay. Crataegus Crus-Galli, or Cockspur 

 Thorn, is very beautiful, both foliage and berries being extremely well 

 coloured, and more persistent than usual. Rhuscotinus, now that the flowers 

 are all gone, has its foliage exposed, and is a picture of beauty, the leaves 

 being mottled red and yellow ; the latter are extremely useful and pretty 

 for dinner table decoration. The specimens of the Pampas grass 

 are excellent this season ; the mild winter of '97 and '98 and recent 

 favourable summer and autumn seem to have suited them well, 

 especially those upon the northern slopes ; the light green foliage and 

 silvery plumes add to the fine autumnal effects in our gardens. 



W. A. Cook.. 



Compton Basset. 



Baumann's Red Winter Reinette Apple. — I could but notice how 



very much out of place this large apple looked in a class to itself amongst the 

 single dishes of dessert varieties at the Crystal Palace show. The fruits were well 

 fitted to be in the cooking section, being quite large, and whilst not at all in 

 barmcny with the required pippins, pearrrains, and nonpareils of the dessert 

 section, would have been absurdly large to place on a dinner table, except 

 when cooked. Not only are big fruits quite out of place in the dessert, but there 

 should be. irrespective of other qualities, a specified average size for dessert fruits, 

 and almost every other variety, classed as such, is of moderate size. Blenheim 



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