August 13, 1891. ] 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
129 
In another the eye may find relief from the flowerless aspect of 
beds and borders in the blossom-laden limbs that Apple and 
Almond stretch above them, while where fruit trees are absent 
flower-clothed AVeigelas, Berberises, Ribes, Viburnums, and other 
shrubs replace and succeed them. Then as the spring wanes 
Irises commence to open, and one sees stately masses of them 
here and there, while treading on their heels are the Pinks and 
early flowering perennials, that carry us on until glorious masses 
of Roses precede the full flush of summer beauty, and warn us 
to extract the fullest enjoyment from the garden before the 
Dahlias and Michaelmas Daisies close the display. 
Apart, too, from the charm which this successional aspect of 
suburban gardens gives to them, it is interesting, and not without 
instruction, to note with what varied materials they are adorned at 
the same season. Every system of flower gardening that has any 
following at all, and some, one would think, that are the evolution 
of local circumstances alone and may be looked for vainly elsewhere, 
is represented. Evening rambles in July have recently revived old 
impressions of suburban gardening at the approach of midsummer. 
In one were found the familiar features of “ bedding out ; ” in 
another the now almost equally familiar mixed borders ; in a third 
the grace and irregularity of the wild garden ; and in a fourth the 
one-plant idea carried out modestly with Pinks, brightly with 
Carnations or Pelargoniums, or gorgeously with Roses. But there 
are other gardens still which arrest the steps of the passer-by, 
gardens wherein bold flowers are used lavishly but with judgment, 
and these perhaps are the most beautiful of all. There is one but 
a mile or two from a great thoroughfare which one never finds 
without brightness and fragrance from April to October, and is 
with me the goal of a weekly—sometimes daily— pilgrimage. In 
spring there are often evil odours from the market gardens near at 
hand, when forlorn stumps of Cabbages and Brussels Sprouts, 
robbers of the land and a danger to the public health, are saturated 
with a moisture-laden atmosphere, but the rich fragrance of the 
groups of Wallflowers cause them to be forgotten. And as one 
sense is gratified by these rich brown masses, so is another by the 
Hyacinths and Tulips in their brilliant raiment, softened by Forget- 
me-nots, Silenes, and Violas. In June there are broad patches, 
and even one or two full beds, of Pinks and Stocks, vying with 
each other in beauty and sweetness. There are, too, stately lines 
of Delphiniums, dwarfer, by reason of the soil perhaps, than they 
are usually seen, but with huge spikes of azure and indigo and 
cobalt. These are not confined to one group or line, but are 
planted almost everywhere, even amongst the Roses, and it is a 
lesson to note how beautifully they harmonise with the pink and 
white clusters of La France and Merveille de Lyon. This is a 
cottage garden of barely half an acre, and vegetables are grown 
in it as well as flowers. The western wall of the dwelling is 
covered by a huge Gloire de Dijon, and it is rarely passed without 
the owner being found busy cutting and selling flowers to cyclists 
and pedestrians. 
As the materials employed in the decoration of suburban flower 
gardens vary, so do the skill and taste that are displayed in utilising 
them. There us one that might be missed entirely, the garden 
being almost hidden, but that the corner of a trellis erection some 
7 feet high and almost smothered in Roses is caught sight of, and a 
closer inspection of it reveals other beauties within. Again, one 
may find the customary “Geranium” border skirting the short 
semi-circular drive of a villa, and find nothing fresh there ; but in 
the centre of the little lawn before the door there is a rustic 
basket, from which hang the flower-furnished sprays of Ivy¬ 
leaved Pelargoniums and Petunias in graceful profusion. In 
another case one finds a meagre strip of garden ground containing 
nothing noteworthy, and the front is a mere forecourt; but the 
wall supports a magnificent Honeysuckle, and within a stone’s 
throw is another, which is covered with a dense mass of Ceanothus 
rigidus. In suburban, as in other, gardens are to be found the 
formal and the informal, the simple and the ornate. In some a 
satisfying effect has been secured, but bearing the traces of such 
thought and trouble ; in others a happy inspiration speaks for 
itself. 
Of the scores, I might indeed say hundreds, of suburban gardens 
which I have admired of late, one remarkable example of original 
treatment is worth referring to specially. A valued tiiend whetted 
an appetite that had already been bountifully ministered to by 
suggesting a visit to “ the most beautiful garden in London.” 
The least curious would be aroused by such a description, which 
carries more weight, let me say, than many would give to it who 
have only seen desolate backyards—a disgrace to the name of 
gardens—from the windows of local trains. In such a connection 
comparisons are “ odorous ” indeed, and yet it is hard to imagine a 
garden more beautiful than that at Adon Mount, the residence of 
a well-known proprietor of newspapers in London. But that my 
theme is gardens, not men, I should be tempted to dwell on the 
wonderful enterprise, business sagacity, and success of Air. James 
Henderson, who began business life more liberally endowed with 
common sens9 and courage than worldly goods, but is to-day the 
owner of almost as many newspapers as can be countel on the 
fingers of both hands ; still what he has done with flowers may 
interest gardening readers more. To attempt any stereotyped 
description of his garden would be absolutely useless, for there is 
not a shred of conventionality about it. All is freshness and 
originality. The house stands on an eminence overlooking Dulwich 
Park, and the garden slopes down on every side. It is one of 
broken lines and curves, of banks and slopes, of irregular borders 
and rock beds, of arches and trellises, of winding walks and shady 
nooks. It is a garden that one cannot survey at a glance, but 
must wander and ramble in to find out the treasures that are there. 
There is a coign of ’vantage from which one can admire the beauty 
of the surrounding country, but none from which every lovely 
nook and corner of the garden can be seen. Its boundaries are 
marked by trellises festooned with Roses, and long borders in 
which Roses were recently flowering in wonderful profusion and 
beauty, embrace a wealth of the choicest and most useful of hardy 
flowers. These are all on grass, not on gravel. Foxgloves from 
seed mixed with soil, and thrown here and there at the backs of 
the borders, rear their tall spikes in colonies, while Delphiniums 
and Hollyhocks complete a stately trio. Carnations, Picotees and 
Pinks, Irises in great variety, Columbines, Campanulas, Liliums, 
Gladioli, and numbers of other valuable flowers are strikingly 
effective in masses. Above all, too, there are Poppies—Poppies in 
such numbers and diversity as one rarely sees. One broad mass 
clothes what was formerly a bare unsightly bank in a shimmering 
mass of colour, and there are some large beds full of them in 
every imaginable shade of colour. There are Poppies of all kinds, 
Poppies annual and Poppies perennial, Poppies of the French 
school, Poppies of the English (clerical these) and quaint Japanese. 
There are individual varieties of great beauty, some recognised 
forms, such as the Mikado, other seedlings rejoicing in no cognomen, 
but whatever they may be individually the collective display of 
these brilliant flowers at Adon Mount is one of the floral sights of 
London. 
This is not merely a summer garden. In the spring time 
Hyacinths, Tulips, Scillas, Daffodils, Primrose*, • Lilies of the 
Valley, and other flowers rear their heads in thousands in beds and 
borders, on banks and slopes, in nooks and corners ; and there is 
abundance of material for carrying on the display after the summer 
flowers have waned. Everywhere there is the same diversity and 
graceful effect. To use Miss Jekyll’s significant words, “ Things 
seem to have happened and not been done.” The flowers grow as 
nearly under natural surroundings as flowers can. No hoe is 
allowed amongst them, and weeds have so little chance of making 
headway that the hand suffices to keep them down. There was a 
time when Air. Henderson’s beautiful garden drew visitors from 
far and near. He threw it open to them to teach a love for 
flowers and new views of flower gardening. On one occasion it 
was crowded with 6000 of them—a truly remirkable fact in a 
London suburban garden—but the privilege was abused and had to 
be withdrawn. The orderly and careful have to suffer for the 
misdeeds of the disorderly and careless—a regretable fact, for the 
garden is essentially one that must be seen to be understood. It 
is noteworthy that the transformation from bare land to one of 
the most beautiful flower homes that can be conceived has been 
brought about entirely by the owner himself. Everything has 
been carried out by unskilled labour under his personal direction. 
He nursed ideas of flower gardening thirty years ago that are even 
now ahead of the times, and has carried them into effect with a 
success that is nothing short of remarkable, when it is remembered 
that it has been accomplished with such little time and attention 
as have been spared by a vast business undertaking. 
The flower garden at Adon Mount is a triumph of artistic work, 
and teaches valuable lessons to any thoughtful observer. It has 
what many others lack, a striking individuality, and it is, of course, 
out of the common rank of the suburban gardens to which 
reference has been made in these notes, but these, as I have said, 
form a great field for collective study. I would that countless 
persons penned within the city walls could be induced to stretch 
sluggish limbs and go forth to seek their pleasures. When once 
the°trees and flowers become familiar friends they teach many a 
lesson of happiness and contentment. Great journals may open 
their columns to give vent to the bitter cry of dullness and 
weariness of spirit as one of them is doing now, but I urge with 
the love and sympathy of one who has covered many hundreds of 
miles in suburban byways, that the remedy is there, and not in 
cramming the already suffocating city with new temples of amuse¬ 
ment. Nature offers antidotes to the ills that attend coercing her 
with a forgiving and generous hand, and those who seek her in her 
own domains, leaving the depression of the gloomy town behind, 
