252 THE amateur’s flower garden. 
warmth, favourable, for the most part, even to shade-loving 
plants. 
As for the alpines proper, the cyclamens, androsaces, 
mountain pinks, droseras, epimediums, and gentians—to name 
a few only as examples—the best advice that can be offered 
to the amateur is to acquire experience in their management 
patiently, without haste or any costly experiments, for a 
serious disappointment at the first start may seriously damp 
the ardour under which the start was made, and make an 
impression unfavourable to the pursuits of the higher depart¬ 
ments of decorative gardening. It may be said of alpine 
plants in general, that to plant them properly in the first 
instance is everything, and to manage them afterwards is no¬ 
thing, for, as a rule, if they are but kept free from weeds, and 
left alone, they will acquire a firm hold of their positions, and 
do full justice to their owner’s taste in selecting them. 
The association of water with a rockery is eminently 
desirable if it can be accomplished conveniently. Were it 
possible to occupy much, instead of little, space with this 
subject, something might be said of a stream that passes 
through a certain garden, and, being dammed up where a 
slight fall occurs, forms a miniature lake, on which a pretty 
lot of water-fowl disport for the embellishment of the scene, 
and for the occasional embellishment also of the dinner-table. 
Beside the rustic bridge across the dam rises a rustic tower 
richly clad with ivy, and portions of a ruined wall and broken 
arches representing a ruin. In all the nooks, and on the 
walls, and everywhere about the spot, alpine plants, mosses, 
ivies, and snapdragons run riot, and charm the eye, which¬ 
ever way it turns. Concealed in the top of the tower is a 
great tank, and under the bridge is fixed a water-ram, the 
duty of which is to pump up water to the top of the tower, 
and provide the gardener with a constant supply, warmed and 
softened for use as needed all the summer long. Within the 
tower is a readiug-room, and a cool retreat open to the sky, 
through a lattice of leaves, lurks amid the arches, and woos 
the breeze to whisper in passing by, “ Here care should be 
forgot.” But we must tell of this rockery some day and 
somewhere in proper detail, and, as we have dipped the pen 
in the limpid stream, we will present in brief a scheme from 
the garden of a friend, which may be useful to many a reader 
of this volume. It is an ornate rockery, differing very much 
