SUPPLEMENTARY NUMBER. 
in 
The First and Second Prize Collections of Azaleas. 
“ But we heard no more; for the clouds assumed a 
lighter hue, the rain diminished, and the company 
emerged from beneath the canopies, and tripped 
lightly and hurriedly over the spongy ground to the 
more secure conservatories. We cannot, however, say, 
with the Eve of Shelley, ministering to the wants of 
the sensitive plant, that their ‘ step seemed to pity 
the grass it pressed;’ for the watery and clammy 
ground yielded under the pressure of their footsteps, 
and many a delicate slipper soon told how deep it 
sunk upon the lawns. 
“ However, the clouds did eventually, hut equivo¬ 
cally, disperse. The sun again shone forth, the mili¬ 
tary bands again were heard, and the whole scene 
changed to one of joy and gladness. Rank and 
fashion—youth and beauty—mingled in the prome¬ 
nade ; and, doubtless, many were the happy associa¬ 
tions and warm sympathies awakened between kindred 
hearts, bringing with them ‘ light to the sun, and 
music to the wind! ’ ” 
But we can afford no more space for our friend’s 
imaginings, and descending at once to more dull real¬ 
ities, we must observe that we most urgently recom¬ 
mend to the Horticultural Society an alteration of the 
grounds on which they pitch their Exhibition-tents. 
At a very small expense, and without any apparent 
alteration of the sward’s surface, it might be elevated 
to a very gentle ridge, descending on all sides from 
the flower-stages. This would secure to the visitors 
dry standing-ground, even during a deluge of rain 
such as was poured down last Saturday; whereas then, 
and at all former Chiswick Exhibitions, when heavy 
rain has fallen, the water absolutely runs down towards 
the flower-stands, these being rather below the level. 
The consequences are such as occurred last Saturday; 
the visitors are either obliged to stand in water, or, 
despite all rules and remonstrances of the police, they 
invade the stages and mingle with the plants. Now 
to run the risk of this is a great oversight, for if high- 
priced plants are to be liable to such dangers, their 
owners will readily seek for excuses for not subjecting 
them to the risk. Neither is the occurrence of wet 
weather a novelty on a Chiswick Show-day, for, owing 
to some peculiarity in its position, rain, if anywhere in 
the neighbourhood of London, is sure to be met with 
at Chiswick. Last Saturday, for example, brought 
but a slight shower to London, and none to Croydon, 
Blackheath, or Walthamstow, whilst, as we have seen, 
over the cold clay basin of Chiswick it brought a 
flood. The Society, therefore, have no excuse in the 
rarity of the inconvenience justifying them for not 
carrying into effect the alteration we have suggested. 
Passing into the tents, beautiful as was the 
arrangement of their floral occupants, splendid as 
were their colours, and admirably as they were grown, 
yet, to those who know the Chiswick May Shows, 
there was a striking absence of novelty. We could 
recognise as old acquaintances even some of the 
flower-pots, though they had changed owners ! The 
plants themselves, though looking as bright and 
healthy as when we first had the pleasure of an intro¬ 
duction, yet were old friends still; and though this is 
as it should be when we visit them at home, yet in the 
tents of Chiswick—to contend in the Gymnasium there 
for its golden prizes—we look for the same excellence 
of cultivation, but more of novelty. 
At Chiswick, on Saturday, if plants could have 
spoken, they would have been loud in their gratula- 
tions at seeing each other —“ such old friends ”—■ 
thus year after year in excellent health. The chief 
(may we not say the only?) debut of the season was 
the yellow violet (Viola lutea), and this of such unas¬ 
suming mien, that the mass of the uninitiated visitors 
never noticed the new arrival. Nor, indeed, does it 
deserve much attention, except for the fleeting merit 
of novelty. It may be an agent, by hybridizing, in 
giving birth to more deserving novelties; but for 
