JULY. 
203 
great beauty, well suited for planting in masses, and relieving the 
monotony of large surfaces of green. The gardens at Elvaston Castle 
derived some of their celebrity from the artistic working up of quantities 
of this beautiful tree in contrast with the darker shades of green. I 
have heard it said, on good authority, that the Golden Yew is a male 
plant, but as I have seeded it, I strongly suspect that there are two or 
more varieties of too close an external resemblance to be distinguished. 
This supposition is strengthened by the fact that the offspring from seed 
retain the variegation of the parent, though differing slightly among 
themselves. 
18. T.h. elegantissima is paler in colour, and of more erect and 
uniform growth than the last-mentioned. Both these varieties, if 
grown entirely in the shade, quickly become green, but regain their 
golden appearance on re-exposure to the sun. They form handsome 
formal plants when worked standard high on the Irish or common Yew. 
19. T. b. silver variegated’lis a seedling from the Golden Yew, 
but which I never thought sufficiently distinct or attractive to merit a 
name. 
20. T. h. fastigiata variegata, the variegated Irish Yew, is a sport 
from the Irish Yew, with occasional silver leaves. The plant is of 
slow growth, and still scarce, but it is hardly striking enough to become 
a general favourite.— Boyal Horticultural Societifs Proceedings. 
A PRUSSIAN GARDEN. 
One of our correspondents has forwarded us the following extract from 
the diary he kept while travelling through northern and central Europe. 
As it gives some idea of horticulture, as practised in Germany, we have 
no doubt our readers will find some interest in it. 
“June 30.—At ten o’clock this morning I walked down the most 
beautiful and imposing street in the world; almost all the public 
buildings of Berlin are clustered at one end and along the sides of it. 
There is the king’s and half-a-dozen other palaces, the Cathedral, the 
Museum, the University, the Opera-house, the Arsenal, the monument 
to the great Fritz—all within a few minutes’ walk of each other, and 
all within sight at once. Along the street, which is perfectly straight, 
although more than a mile in length, there are four lines of Lime-trees; 
the centre avenue is reserved as a promenade for pedestrians. This 
noble street is very appropriately called ‘ Unter den Linden’ (Beneath 
the Lime-trees). At its western extremity there is a magnificent 
triumphal arch ; this is surmounted by a figure of Victory, standing in 
a chariot drawn by four horses. Beyond this gate, called the Branden- 
burgher Thor, stretches the principal public park near Berlin; an avenue 
several miles in length, and in a line with the street I had just left, 
divides it into two parts. I followed this avenue for nearly a mile, 
and then, taking one of the smaller ones, struck off to the right across 
the river Spree, and was soon in the village of Moabit. It is an easy 
walk from Berlin, and is therefore a favourite place of resort for the 
Prussian Cockneys. The village has, therefore, a varied appearance ; 
