2 BARR’S HARDY DAFFODILS, AND WHAT THE GARDENING PAPERS SAY OF THEM. 
BARR’S 
HARDY DAFFODILS, DAFFADILLIES, DAFFODOWNDILLIES. 
To these was Awarded the only Gold Medal of the Daffodil Conference, held in the Chiswick 
Gardens of the Royal Horticultural Society, April 15th, 1890. 
Extract from “The Gardeners' Magazine,” 19th April, 1890. 
The Editor (the late Mr. Shirley Hibberd) remarks, “ Daffodils will never cease to give delight, will never cease 
to be collected, and cultivated, and exhibited, and talked about, for, with all our wealth of hardy spring flowers, this 
group of beauties is unequalled for splendour of appearance, and all the qualities of a spring flower that engage the 
moral nature in a series of wholesome sympathies, to augment the delight that begins in the eye. 
Extract from “The Gardeners’ Chronicle,” April 12th, 1890. 
“THE DAFFODIL KING.” 
“ There will be few, if any, who will be disposed to question the right of Mr. Peter Barr to this designation. 
Previous to his accession, Daffodils were few in number. Gerard and Parkinson and Dr. Hill [Hale’s Eden] knew a few 
varieties. Later on Haworth entered the arena. Dean Herbert, whose merits as a botanist are better appreciated by 
his successors than they were by bis contemporaries, experimented with them. Leeds and Backhouse and Nelson 
won repute as hybridists. But in spite of these labourers, thoso who can look back twenty or twenty-five years will 
remember that the sorts generally known and cultivated could be counted by units, whereas scores or even hundreds 
would now be required. What originally induced Mr. Barr to take up the subject we do not know ; certain it is that 
he has taken it up with the indomitable zeal of an enthusiast. Putting commercial considerations on one side, as of 
secondary importance, he, though a man of business, has allowed himself to be governed by his love of Daffodils, and 
has spared neither labour nor money in their collection. He has made long and tedious journeys in rough countries 
in quest of his favourite plants. On these occasions his couch has not seldom been the rock, the sky his coverlet. 
Nor has collection been his only aim. Study of their peculiarities has been, and is, a perfect passion with him. Obser- 
vation and research are continually increasing his store of knowledge, for truly nothing relating to Daffodils is 
foreign to Mr. Barr.” 
Extract from the “Journal of Horticulture,” May 14th, 1891. 
BARR’S DAFFODILS. 
il Daffodils from Barr's are to be found in gardens all over the kingdom and far beyond its shores, but Barr’s 
own Daffodils are only to be seen in all their diverse beauty at Long Ditton, in Surrey. Thither do specialists and 
lovers of this great family of spring flowers wend their way in the season, not only to admire the floral feast, but to 
gain information, and study the characters of the different varieties under the guidance of the Master. Mr. Barr is 
a Master of Daffodils in a double sense— first as the possessor of the finest collection in the world, and secondly by 
the great knowledge he has acquired through research, travel, and a long and critical observation. The Daffodil 
fields are now about ten minutes’ walk from Surbiton Station on the London and South Western Railway, reached in 
about twenty minutes by express from Waterloo. There are fifteen acres, and at the least half the ground is closely 
planted with 500 species and varieties of the flowers, with several of which Mr. Barr’s name will be associated for 
generations to come. 
Extracted from the “Daily News,” March 27th, 1893. 
DAFFODOWNDILLIES. 
•* You nre a little early,” says Mr. W. Barr, as he leads the way out into the open grounds at Long Ditton, 
already ablaze with colour — “ a little early. In a fortnight's time we shall have more to show yo\i.” 
It is just as well to be a little early. The flowers that are coming on, and have already got their advance guards 
flaunting their silken banners on the spring winds, are a cheerier sight than those same flowers when they have 
reached the zenith of their beauty, and have begun to show signs of exhaustion and decline. And the Daffodils 
themselves are early this year— the 
Daffodils 
That come before the swallow dares, and take 
The winds of March with beauty. 
Already they are out hero by the thousand— by-and-bye they will be out by the million— and a pleasant thing it 
has been in sauntering along from the station at Surbiton to peep through the ragged hawthorn hedge, itself just 
bursting into spring verdure, and see the yellow blossoms shimmering over a carpet of fresh greon, and dancing to 
the music of the larks soaring and carolling up into the blue that is hardly so intense overhead as are the streets of 
Scilla 9 and Chionodoxas now in full glory. What an invigorating, life-giving thing it is to get out here away from 
all the strife and turmoil of the town, and to listen to the birds, and the fitful roar of the winds in the naked elms, 
and to watch the cloud shadows and sunbeams gambolling over the springing turf and the brown clods and the woods 
and hedgerows ! How easy it is to be a philosopher out here— to sit on a five-barred gate aud pour contempt on the 
pitiful wire-puller, stock jobbing, money grabbing, self-seeking, glory hunting that is going on in the crowded 
city yonder. 
“ A little early,” says Mr. W. Barr, “but come along,” and he leads the way out into the grounds, where five 
acres of Daffodils will soon be all aflaunt— great Trumpet. Daffodils and Hoop Petticoated Daffodils, and Snow Whites 
and Tenby Yellows, and ” Angels’ Tears,” and Poets’ Narcissus, and Golden Spurs, and Mountain Daffodils, and tiuy 
wee things not so big as a cowslip. Already they are out here in great sheets of luscious colour, aud some of them 
delicately perfumed, and with larks over one’s head, and thrushes and starlings warbling around, it is so pleasant to 
stride about the beds here, to make intimate acquaintance with these lusty trumpeters to the coming floral hosts, 
and to feel that, under the tuition of an expert, you are rapidly yourself becoming a datfodilidarian, or whatever may 
be the proper term by which to dub one who knows all about Daffodil flowers. 
[ Barr and Son, 
