io8 
NATURE NOTES. 
a reply from Mr. Falz-Fein, who possesses a large estate in the 
Crimea, thanking me warmly for my letter, and inviting me to 
pay him a visit, which, unfortunately, the numerous calls on my 
time have hitherto prevented me from accepting.” 
A. F. 
LOVE LIES BLEEDING. 
T was in an old-fashioned Richmond garden that I 
saw the drooping crimson plumes of the amaranth 
[Amarantus caudatus). There were high red brick walls 
to this garden, and upon them were trained fig trees 
with spreading, jagged leaves and grey-green stems, wdstaria, 
vines and jessamine. Every May the wistaria blossomed out 
in delicate profusion, pale purple, grape-like clusters of flowers 
lying against the deep redness of the walls ; and a little later 
on came the white, sweet-smelling flowers of the jessamine, 
shining in small starry constellations among the tall green 
masses of closely growing, fine foliage. Beneath ran long 
flower beds where perennials and hardy annuals bloomed almost 
constantly, and in the middle of the lawn, with the clump of 
yew trees sheltering it upon the northern side, were other beds, 
where roses grew in abundance — monthly, moss, damask, and 
deep crimson, loose-petalled, single ones. 
But it was in one of the side beds that the sweeping tassels 
of the amaranth were to be found. It was here that the scarlet 
lychnis blossomed every summer, as it had doubtless blossomed 
for the last hundred years; that grey lavender lifted “spikes of 
azure bloom,” and strange marvels of Peru opened sw^eet evening 
flowers ; whilst clumps of lilies rose up, year after year, tall, 
white and gracious, by the side of sturdy marigolds, with their 
glowing haloes of ruddy petals. 
Great straggling bushes of rosemary grew at the further end, 
in an arid, stony corner, and I never passed down the box- 
bordered path without pressing the fragrant, wholesome-smelling 
leaves. The “ rosemarine” of Shenstone’s cottage garden — 
“ That whilom crown’d 
The daintiest garden of the proudest peer,” 
was as great a favourite with me as it was with the old school- 
mistress, and often the lines of a modern poet came into my mind 
as I watched the frail blossoms appearing beneath the dark, 
narrow leaves with their underside of grey. 
There was something so sweet, modest and unpretending 
about those delicate, half-hidden flowerets; and the dull colour- 
ing of the encircling leaves was also so closely connected with 
pleasant, health-giving properties, that the whole plant had a 
beauty of its own in my eyes — an indescribable charm ! 
