2GG 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
September 20, 1894. 
NOTES FROM TRII^ITY COLLEGE BOTANIC 
GARDENS, DUBLIN. 
An invitation from the genial chief of these gardens, with the 
previous intimation, “You should come and see the Lilies,” results 
in these few notes. Towards eleven by the clock this August 
morning I pull vigorously at the bell. “ Pull again,” say several 
jaunting car drivers, who watch my efforts to call attention ; “ they 
often ties it up to-day.” It happened to be the day when other 
bells denote in deep tones that they are not tongue-tied. Finally a 
meek-faced terrier heralds the approach of “F. W. B ,” who allays 
my fears that the pulling may have ruptured the bell wire. And 
now for the Lilies. A deep fringe of many things round the pond 
curtains them from view till near the margin, and these beautiful 
water nymphs in their bath are revealed. Of the large varieties 
two only display their charms to-day—N. marliacea carnea, a 
massive waxy flower with a pale rosy blush stolen from N. rubra, 
one of its parents ; the other, N. marliacea chromatella, the deep 
gold in the base of its ivory cup being reflected through the petals. 
Watching the goldfish sporting through buds and foliage, I listen 
to the story of these Lilies raised in France, which worthily bear 
the name of the raiser. 
Crossing a miniature bridge over a tiny creeklet densely 
carpeted with the Lycopod-like Azolla, “ F. W. B.” fishes up some 
with his umbrella, which I duly pocket with the good resolution to 
keep it from going down the overflow pipe of the tank, a 
catastrophe which happened to the last he gave me. An old friend 
is inquired for, viz. Dittany of Crete. Yes; here it is, and a 
lighted match applied produces miniature guncotton-like flashes ; 
but the plant in my mind’s eye had no such combustible vagaries, 
and I recollect after getting home that the old friend I should 
have asked for was Origanum dictamnus. Here and there I 
recognise old friends with their peculiarly happy power to revive 
old memories. These pots of Marsillea in pans of water, their 
quaint pollen pods all but hidden in the Clover-like foliage, 
obliterate many miles and many years. I am a boy again listening 
to the story told by an honoured master of this—the Nardoo plant 
of Australia, the food resource of Burke and Wills, the early 
explorers. A large clump of Crinum Powelli carries fifteen spikes 
of its striking piik flowers set amongst the vigorous strap-like 
foliage. The white variety afterwards seen in a cool house is 
very chaste and beautiful. The Himalayan Primula capitata has 
purplish blue heads set on slender shafts risirg from a farinose 
tufted foliage. 
A series of rectangular beds cut in the turf rather savour to a 
casual visitor of that heterogeneous planting pertaining to the 
-children’s department, which indeed they are, but of the children 
•of science. The formidable array of nomenclature in which their 
orders and titles are set forth, brings up the reflection that “ A 
little learning is a dangerous thing,” so I feel safer in getting away 
to admire some of the old Painted Lady Carnations near at hand. 
These are the original type of these fair demoiselles, heavily 
rouged on a white ground, with their beauty but skin deep. 
Androsaces are profusely luxuriant in various positions, dry 
quarters appearing to suit them best. Perched far up on the top 
of a wall is the Campanula-like Syphomandra Hoffmanni. A 
clump of the Japanese Wineberry in fruit, flower, and bud, is rather 
a handsome plant. Calystegia sylvatica, the large Hungarian Bind¬ 
weed, twines gracefully up a Bamboo, and near by is Polygonum 
Seychellense, bold and striking in its annual growth. These Poly¬ 
gonums are tempted to rise too early from their bed in the spring, 
suffering for their temerity should frost prevail. A smaller variety 
was badly burned with me this year, and this, too, where a breadth 
of Potatoes hard by escaped. The three plants above mentioned 
should be acquisitions to the semi-wild gardening of a large 
demesne. 
A group of Prunus Pissardi contrasts favourably with the 
sombre-hued purple Filbert. A fine tone of colour obtains with 
this purple-leaved Plum. One thinks what might be done with 
this, the Golden Elder and silver-foliaged Acer, clumped—not 
dotted—amid the evergreens of a landscape. Here a wall runs 
parallel with the palisade, enclosing a strip in which Nature has 
pretty much her own way, with nought to savour of the teeming 
city life but the tinkling bells of unseen trams passing within 
50 feet. The curious Orabanche hederacese is pointed out, preying 
on the Ivy roots beneath the soil. Bambusa palmata is a bold 
plant, but stiff withal. Many alpines on the low wall, built for 
t'leir accommodation, have grown apace since I last saw them on 
that never-to-be-forgotten day when the glory of countless Narcissi 
monopolised attention. Near the wall is a bed of Omnium 
gatherum. The idea, which is novel and useful, is this : ofttimes a 
pod of seed is gathered which does not demand special care in 
papering and labelling ; here they are interred without ceremony 
or distinguishing mark, and as their growth develops to be trans¬ 
ferred to such position as merit entitles. The shining bright red 
fruits of Sambucus racemosus claim attention, and many fine 
specimen Hollies are prominent amid the varied shrubs and trees. 
We pause before a purple Beech and note the part below the graft 
is infested with some species of woolly aphis, which does not 
advance above the ring of union. Why is this ? A portion is 
scraped and marked with a knife, but the torture reveals nothing. 
On for a peep through the houses. The air of one is heavy 
with the ripening fruit of Monstera. Instances of scientific 
research continually crop up, giving rise to much questioning and 
debate, absorbing the all too quickly passing time. Here is 
Pontedera crassipes transferred from its liquid element to the dry 
position of a shelf and ordinary plant treatment. “ See,” says the 
guide, “ how the inflated bladders are in process of reduction to 
ordinary leafstalks.” “Why is that?” I ask. “ Oh, because they 
are no longer required,” is the answer. In this practical Darwinism 
evolution is made easy ; no disembowelling the fossil remains of 
prehistoric ages. Here the process is going on under one’s eyes, 
and seeing is believing. 
Here is the rarest plant in the gardens—viz., Xanthorrhoea quad- 
rangularis, the Grass Gum. Tradition says the first postage stamp 
which came to the gardens brought this plant, so I take particular 
note of it, but can only say it is very small for its age, and inter¬ 
esting from the pitch-like exudation, which all but flames when 
a lighted match is applied to it. High up on the roof is Stigma- 
phyllum ciliatum, bright with golden Oncidium-like flowers. A 
new house has just been erected for Tree Ferns, to which they have 
lately been removed, to the mutual advantage of themselves and 
other occupants of the crowded houses. Half of this house has 
been longitudinally excavated, forming a natural looking gully, in 
which the fine specimens are displayed to advantage. Ficus repens, 
with other creepers and dingers, will soon transform the whole 
into a prominent feature of the gardens. But nigh on four hours 
have elapsed since I wrestled with the bell-pull, so we pass out vf 
a side gate across the tram tracks to “ F. W. B.’s ” private residence, 
gained through a garden at the rear, the chief feature of which 
appears to be some rather scraggy Apple trees devoting their lives 
to nursing in their bosoms some plants of Mistletoe, and this in 
the heart of Dublin. I poise a heavy Bornean spear, and think 
what Bornean muscle must be to wield such weapons. Books, 
books everywhere, from pocket manuals to the stately tomes of 
Reichenbachia, the plates of which I am absorbed in when the 
cheerful rattle of other plates suggest that man cannot live on 
science alone.—E. K , Dublin. 
OLD VERSUS YOUNG FRUIT TREES. 
The comparative eailiness of young and old trees I do not 
think I have seen more strictly exemplified than this year, the case 
in point being Nectarine trees, Elruge and Lord Napier. In our 
early Peach house there is a young tree of the last named which 
bore fruit for the first time last year ; the same tree this spring 
ripened several dozen large and beautifully coloured fruits. A 
much older tree of Elruge, separated on the trellis only by a Peach, 
perfected a full crop of smaller fruits which ripened in advance of 
Lord Napier. The latter, of course, being looked on as the 
earlier variety made the difference all the more marked. 
The old tree is quite healthy, and has not been subject to the 
decay and loss of branches common to exhausted trees ; but the 
difference may, no doubt, be traced to some extent to the soil and 
season. The old tree has had no change of soil for some years, 
and this, coupled with the long continued sunshine of last season, 
brought about an earlier maturity in the less vigorous growth than 
was the case of the more youthful Lord Napier. This latter, when 
planted less than three years since, had fresh turfy loam supplied, 
and hence the more vigorous growth. Neither tree suffered last 
year, nor have they since, through want of root moisture, the 
border receiving the same attention, excepting that the young trees 
had clear water only, the older ones diluted liquid manures. The 
order of ripening, too, is equally marked ; the younger specimen 
matured its crop in moderate succession, the other ripened so 
rapidly, that all, or nearly all, were gathered on two or three 
consecutive days. This again showed that the constitution of the 
tree was such as to be more sensitive of weather changes, for at the 
time of ripening there was a few days of bright summer weather 
following a dull and showery time. 
I have not yet had the opportunity of proving the advance in 
point of earliness of the new Early Rivers Nectarines, but 
older existing sorts are a long way behind the earliest Peaches 
in this respect. I find we gathered our first fruits of Waterloo 
and Alexander Peaches, both of which ripened simultaneously 
on the 5th of May in the same house. Nectarines were not 
