November 12, 1891. ] 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
401 
T HERE aro days when the lover of flowers is fain to keep 
within doors—days when the drip of the rain tells that outdoor 
work must be left undone, and to those who know of much to do 
the desire to be “ up and doing ” becomes difficult to resist. 
Experience tells us, however, that there is no gain, but loss in such 
work, when as Longfellow in melancholy words says :— 
“ The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
The Vine still clings to the mouldering wall, 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall, 
And the day is dark and dreary.” 
It is not fitting, though, that the spell of the dreary day should 
enthral us, and though, as the same great poet tell us :— 
“ The hooded clouds, like friars, 
Tell their beads in drops of rain, 
And patter their doleful prayers.” 
• • • ( i • I 
Let us rouse ourselves from our dullness, and if need be wander 
into the garden with overcoat and see if these drenched flowers can 
bring us a message of cheer. Nor need we wander long—nay, from 
the window itself can be seen something to think of. There, still in 
flower, is the pure white Anemone japonica alba, with petals of virgin 
whiteness inside, touched on the outside with a blush-like tinge of 
red, with its many bright yellow anthers, and its button-like boss of 
greenish yellow. Near by is a plant of the typical A. japonica, one 
of Robert Fortune’s introductions, which, although not so chaste 
as the white variety, is one of our cherished flowers. Fortune, in 
his “ Wanderings in China,” mentions it as follows :—“ The flowers 
which the Chinese plant on or among the tombs are simple and 
beautiful in their kind. No expensive Camellias, Moutans or 
other of the finer ornaments of the garden, are chosen for this 
purpose. Sometimes the conical mound of earth—when the grave 
is of this kind—is crowned with a large plant of fine, tall, waving 
grass. At Ningpo wild Roses are planted, which soon spread 
themselves over the grave, and when their flowers expand in spring 
cover it with a sheet of pure white. At Shanghae a pretty bulbous 
plant, a species of Lycoris, covers the graves in autumn with 
masses of brilliant purple. When I first discovered the Anemone 
japonica it was in full flower amongst the graves of the natives, 
which are round the ramparts of Shanghae ; it blooms in November^ 
when other flowers have gone by, and is a most appropriate orna¬ 
ment of the last resting places of the dead.” If it thus is one of 
the last tributes of respect and of love paid by the Chinese to their 
lost friends, we may well also look upon it as one of the last 
tributes of Nature to the departed summer, and one, too, which has 
no fleeting summer’s life only, but springs afresh from year to 
year to delight us with its beauty. Nor must we forget these few 
remaining Gladioli, the “ Sword Flag ” of the old writers ; while 
most are past some still remain, and need I say I prize them much. 
Strange is it that so few of the poets speak of them. Lord Lytton, 
however, says cf one of the family :— 
“ And the small wild Pinks from tender 
Feather Grasses peep at us ; 
While above them burns on slender 
Stems the ied Gladiolus.” 
#o. 594. —VOL. XXIII., Third Series, 
Is there not a golden lesson here for those of us who are forced 
to admit that the Gladiolus needs some groundwork, some setting 
in which to place the jewel, something from which the sword-like 
leaves and tall stems may rise and deprive them of the stiffness 
inseparable from them as usually grown ? Would not this ground¬ 
work of “small wild Pinks” and “tender Feather Grasses” be 
a charming setting for the bright crimson of Gladiolus brench- 
leyensis, or the pinks, and salmons, and whites, and purples, and 
the streaks, and feathers, and spottings with which many of the 
varieties of gandavensis glow ? There are still some fifteen in 
flower in my garden, mostly seedlings of my own raising, among 
them a good white, slightly pencilled with purple. The raising of 
Gladioli from seed is so interesting, and withal so easy, that I am 
surprised it is not more followed by those who have sufficient time 
on their hands. Here, flowering in a quiet corner at the base of 
a rockery, is Primula capitata. For this flower the rain has no 
terrors, and gladly do we see its purple coronal surmounting its 
slender yet strong mealy stem. Yery beautiful is this crown of 
small flowers of deep, almost blue, purple inside and paler purple 
outside. The leaves are of the usual primrose shape, averaging 
about 4 inches in length, tooth-edged and mealy underneath. It 
was originally collected by Hooker in the Sikkim Himalayas in 
1849, and was found in gravelly soil at a height of about 10,000 
feet. It is one of those flowers which might well share with its 
congener, the Cowslip, the honour of being a hiding place of the 
fairies. While it has not the “rabies, fairy favours” of the Cow 
slip, its tubulous flowers are extremely pretty, and doubtless 
some native legend is connected with the flower could we but 
know it. 
Flowering freely in the rock garden is Saxifraga Fortunei, 
which, while not showy, is decidedly attractive, its white flowers 
looking particularly quaint on their tallish red stems above the 
bright green leaves. It is a native of Japan, and is said to have 
been introduced in 1863. It belongs to the same section as 
S. sarmentosa, the Mother of Thousands, and is very valuable 
from its late flowering habit. It is not consideied very hardy, but 
I have grown it in the open without protection for about three 
years, and I know of a few gardens in which it has proved quite 
hardy. The Tritomas are still in flower, and nothing in the way 
of rain seems able to quench their flaming torches ; indeed, they 
seem to enjoy the moisture, and the manner in which their flowers 
are arranged on their bottle-brush like heads of flower is a great 
aid to their remaining in flower so long. The rain cannot reach 
the inside of the flower, and runs off on the outside. On the 
rockery a fine plant of Hypericum reptans still keeps well in bloom. 
To me there is always something peculiarly attractive in its pale 
yellow saucer-like flowers. I am an admirer of the genus, and 
there is a considerable diversity in habit and in the size and style of 
the blooms. Yet there is none prettier than this little species of 
St. John’s Wort. To the beauty of the plant is added the charm 
of the connection of the Hypericums with ancient legends and 
superstitions. Few flowers are more widely associated with plant 
lore than the Hypericums. The St. John’s AVort seems to have 
been a plant celebrated in heathen mythology. The Rev. H. Friend 
in his “ Flowers and Flower Lore ” tells us (page 147) that Baldur 
and Heindal the two “ white gods ” of Valhalla, who represent the 
sun, and whose peculiar epithet referred to the brightness of sun¬ 
light, were replaced by St. John. “ Flowers with large sun shaped 
discs, either white or golden yellow, were dedicated to Baldur, as 
the sun god, and it was in this manner that the Hypericum became 
the peculiar property of St. JohD, and as the ‘ fuga dcemonum, was 
so powerful in repelling the works of darkness. ’ The little 
H. reptans is very pleasing hanging over a large stone where its 
bright green foliage and pretty yellow flowers about an inch across 
with the thread-like centre so characteristic of the St. John’s 
Worts. 
From the plant anciently dedicated to the L ‘ sun god of 
NO.-235Q.—Yol. LXXXV., Old Series. 
