Stray Leaves from a Border Garden 
Canary-grass and Our Lady’s Garters. This last I cherish 
on one of my rockeries. I saw it once grown as a path- 
edging ; it looked very pretty. I do not remember where I 
got the striped Iris, but it is a treasure. Well, well, 
“ More grows in the garden than the gardener sows,” says 
the old Spanish proverb. 
June 22. — The Syringa is beginning to come out. In a 
few days it will scent the whole place, so many old bushes 
grow here. There is a story that long ago, when the 
house was let, the tenants objected to the smell as being 
too strong. Can one have too much of a good thing ? 
Syringal the Gardener calls it; a delightful name. One thinks 
of Joringel, in Grimm’s Fairy Tale, putting it in his flat cap 
as he goes in search of his bride. Mock Orange is another 
name for it. I know of a very small variety which is 
extremely pretty ; I must get it. A charming yellow Turk’s- 
cap Lily, or Martagon, is out now, yellow turned up with 
green, stamens orange, most objectionable surely to 
witches, since they are said not to like either green or 
yellow. It is despised as common and old-fashioned here- 
abouts, but I have never seen it anywhere else, except at 
Fort William, where it seemed to be common. It has a 
strong scent, somewhat recalling Honeysuckle. This is 
probably the one called in Germany Goldwurz. Here I have 
also a vivid scarlet Turk’s-cap ( Pomponium verum), very 
pretty, the Lily Pompony of the old Herbal, I think, and a 
dark magenta one, more curious than pretty, which I have 
seen growing wild in Auvergne. Wallace, of Colchester, the 
famous Lily King, has published a most interesting little book 
all about Lilies, which should be in every bookcase. 
The result of perusal is to make one long to give him an 
unlimited order for the many bewitching varieties. In the 
garden there is a pale pink Turncap with tiny dark specks 
all over it, which has, curiously enough, always borne here 
the name of Crown Imperial. There do not seem to be 
here any real Fritillaria Imperialis — the Crown Imperials 
of Parkinson. I must get some ; no garden is complete with- 
out their beautiful stateliness, to my thinking. There was 
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