EPIDENDRUM CUCULLATUM.-HOODED EPIDENDRUM. 
Class XX. GY^ANDRIA.— Order II. DIANDRIA. 
Natural Order, ORCHIDE.E. THE ORCHIS TRIBE. 
This very curious species of Epidendrum, which we believed flowered for the first time in this country * in 
the bark stove of Edward Woodford, Esq., Vauxhall, rises with a single stem, clothed with two or three 
i alternate ash-coloured scale-like spathes, so closely adpressed as to be scarcely discernible. From the top 
of the stem issues one leaf (perhaps, as in the figure of Plumier, sometimes more) fleshy, linear, acute, con- 
vex at the back, and slightly grooved in front. From the bosom of this leaf rises a round scape, at first 
swelling, then attenuated upwards, bearing a solitary flower, perfectly white when newly opened, but be- 
coming tinged with a yellowish green, consisting of three external and two internal petals, of similar length 
I and shape, linear, somewhat undulated, the two inner ones exactly opposite, and a nectary surrounding the 
parts of fructification shaped like a friar’s cowl, far-acuminate, fringed, continuing of a snow-white after the 
petals have changed their tint. Nearly scentless. 
Being a native of the West Indies, and naturally a parasitical plant, its culture is difficult, and it is of 
necessity a constant inhabitant of the bark stove in our climate. 
Gardens. — The word suggests a summer theme, but, like gardening, it has a portion for all seasons, 
j and an interest for almost every mind ; few there are who cannot find pleasure in the exercise of that primi- 
tive art ; and those few, generally speaking, will be found themselves uncultivated within. The love of 
gardens is a feeling at once the most universal in its extent and the most salutary in its operation, of any 
J that has been retained by modern society ; it belongs to the primeval times, and keeps the freshness of old 
rustic nature about human hearts and homes through ages of dusty toil and mechanical civilisation. We 
cannot conceal from ourselves that much of life as it now appears has the artificial stamp upon it ; our daily 
business, our habits of action and even of thought, our social arrangements, and our domestic manners, all 
j bear the impress of machinery and making up : they were made up for us, in fact, before we knew them, or 
! so much as entered this living world. But the roses that summer flushes so brightly in the rich parterre, 
the woodbine that blooms on the cottager’s garden wall, or the bed of snowdrops that delights the cottage 
child, when the days are lengthening and the robin begins to sing — these are the forms renewed that come 
j and go with the seasons, and are nursed beyond human comprehension or control. 
The fields are far off to the inhabitants of cities, and those of the country know them to be the meadows 
or harvest ground that must be reaped and sown, the domains of utility tilled by laborious strength : beau- 
tiful are they in the first green of the corn, and rich when it waves wide and yellow in the autumn’s sun and 
breeze. The trust, the life of the world are there ; but the garden is the cultivator’s own demesne, to which 
his leisure is given where his taste finds scope, and over whose wealth he rejoices as that which comes with- 
out either risk or misgiving ; hence from the earliest date of history and civilisation men have delighted in 
gardening — the sage and the simple have found it equally attractive. It has been the amusement of princes, 
poets, and philosophers; minds of the highest order, in both ancient and modern times, have made it their 
chosen study, and unlettered hard-working men, in the rough by-ways of life, have selected it for their only 
relaxation. He was a curious, though not unphilosophic observer, who remarked, that wherever taste and 
care were exhibited in the garden, whether pertaining to cottage or castle, the traveller might fairly reckon 
on civility and refinement in the household. Gardens are entirely unthought of by savage tribes. Those of 
them who plant roots or sow grain have no idea of the small enclosure for mingled ornament and use which 
is generally understood by that term among us. The garden occupies a large space in most people’s home 
recollections : all whose childhood has been passed in the country will remember some little spot in which 
their earliest attempts at planting were made — how often the first roots were pulled up to see if they were 
growing ; and when at length sounder principles of horticulture were acquired by the expanding mind, with 
what cheerful and earnest industry were the weeds removed, the flowers trimmed, and, more than all, the 
requisite duties done to that first estate — better kept perhaps than the patrimony or the acquisitions of after 
life ; and when it grew to prosperity and bloom, under shower and shine, and hopeful labour, oh how great 
was the triumph, and how rich seemed the reward. 
The fathers of the church were in the habit of comparing the soul to a garden ; probably the monastic 
custom made the simile familiar to their minds. ‘ Cultivate thy soul,’ says one, c as thou wouldst 
thy garden ground ; root out the weeds year after year, for the seasons will renew them ; cherish the 
flowers, and see that thou bestow most care on that which is most likely to fail.’ Gardens figure con- 
spicuously in the mythology of all nations living under a warm or temperate climate. The Mohammedan 
paradise is represented under that symbol. The Chinese speak of the gardens of the immortals, which are 
said to be situated among the mountains of Thibet, and blest with perpetual summer: nothing within their 
It was in the royal collection at Kew in 1794. Mart. Mill. Diet. 
