161 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, December 1 i, 1858. 
tliemuma, or for making it a rule for breaking through 
my yearly custom of seeing them a month earlier. But 
the reason for the thing rests on one point only. I 
wanted to kill three birds, this time, with the same stone. 
Far down in the country, the most valuable Chrysan¬ 
themums and Pompones arc those which keep, or bloom, 
the latest. Up about London, seedlings of the current 
year are never thoroughly proved till the end of No¬ 
vember, and, perhaps, not so early, or not till next year; 
and when the frost comes—and the shows are gone before 
that time—the degrees of strength in their constitution, 
and the degrees of skill which have been exhibited in 
judging them, in growing them, in showing them off, and 
in spelling their names properly, can be the more freely 
criticised, with less likelihood of swerving from the 
right, or leaning on the left foot. Therefore, by delaying 
my yearly call at the Versailles Nursery beyond the 
customary time, I was enabled to compass the three 
hits at one throw of the stone. 
On my way there. I called at Kew and the Chiswick 
gardens, to see if all the leaves were swept up in the 
former, and to learn if anything was left in the dis¬ 
tribution department of the latter, that I might order, 
on the strength of my F.H.S., for the Experimental 
Garden. That, also, was a part of my plan for being so 
late in the season; as it is part of my pride of life never 
to rummage granny’s pockets till all my betters have had 
their full share ;—this being, as I believe, the fourth time 
that I have had the pleasure of sharing in the dear old 
soul’s distribution of the good things of her garden, for 
the last twenty years that I have enjoyed the privilege of 
one of her dearest offsets. 
Both gardens looked as clean as a new pin. I heard that 
Amherstia nohilis had been struck from cuttings at Kew, 
but I did not go through the houses in either garden. At 
Chiswick, the trees and shrubs all over the garden are 
having their names put to them on wooden tallies,—a 
thing which ought never to have been neglected in a 
public garden. My favourite tree, Acer Lohelli, has not 
been cut down, which is lucky, as it is the finest de¬ 
ciduous tree in Europe to accompany architecture. 
It was the first Saturday in December,—a dripping, dull, 
dreary day; and I fear Mr. Salter’s hair stood on end as 
soon as he saw me, because I give him more bother 
about colours, shades, and changes, and about the mean¬ 
ing and right spelling of continental names, than all the 
rest of his customers put together, reckoning myself 
as one of them, on account of my being a troublesome 
customer. 
The people in France and Italy, or some of them, 
are just as much puzzled with our names—after our 
household words—as ever we are about theirs, or their 
personal pronouns; and it is only fair to give them a 
turn, as they delight to read constant extracts from Tiie 
Cottage Gahdenek. In Scotland, every woman, how¬ 
ever humble she may be, if not married, is styled Miss. 
Miss Mary Bruce, scullery maid, Castle Grant, is exactly 
the way a girl there, in that line, would have her letters ad¬ 
dressed. The rest of the Scotch titles are as in England, 
where any lady in the peerage is styled Mistress, if she 
hold the office of Mistress of the Robes to Her Majesty; 
and where all female servants, who have not been given 
in marriage, are also styled Mistress. A Duko or Lord 
is styled Master, if he holds one of several offices in the 
royal household, as Master of the Horse, for instance. 
With these exceptions, Master, Mistress, and Miss, 
mean the same in England as Monsieur, Madame, Ma¬ 
demoiselle do in France; or Signor, Signora, and Signorina 
in Italy; and Senor, Senora, and Senoretta in Spain. All 
nations are allowed to pronounce classical names ac¬ 
cording to the idiom of their own language, but not to 
alter the letters in the names, as Hermine for Hermione, 
which I instanced lately. A Frenchman is entitled to 
drop the s in Lais,—the name of one of the dark Pom¬ 
pones,—as if it were a French word ; but he is not allowed 
to write Lai, because Lais is an historical name in ancient 
history—-the name of a beautiful woman, of whom the 
least said the soonest mended. The English word Misses 
is a provincialism, a short cut for Mistress. All this is 
Greek to some portion of our readers, and all of it is in 
reference to the names of florists’ flowers only. 
And here are the very flowers themselves. The most 
beautiful new Pompone, and the prettiest colour, to my 
eye, of all of them, when it turns to the winter shade, is 
called Madame Miellez. 
I have a large open nosegay of all the new kinds, in 
water, on the table, and two vases and a glass full of 
them in other parts of my “ keeping-room,” as they would 
say in Suffolk, begged and borrowed of Air. Salter, on 
purpose to learn all about them, in order that I might 
not put my foot in it—as’ some people lately have done—■ 
when I came to write about them. 
The following Pompones were amongst the best in 
flower, old or new, indoors, at the beginning of Decem¬ 
ber:— Escarboucle, the fine, large yellow, which was 
so conspicuous at the Crystal Palace, and which will 
last on till Christmas. Tirgine Miellez, a large, hybrid, 
new Pompone, of a dark pinkish colour. Mira, newish, 
and the best late white kind. Eosinante, a hybrid, 
with a light peach, or blush, flower. Route de Neige, 
a fine, late, snowball anemone. Justine Tessier, an older 
kind, sulphur white, and dying off a pure white. Eugenie, 
a new, rosy, blush hybrid. Nanon, the best late new 
yellow. Seine de Panachas, blush, with rosy stripes. 
Baron d ’ Adsweard, white, edged with cherry, very 
pretty,—to come out next spring. Marmouset, deeper 
and larger than the Mignonette, and a kind of anemone, 
without the guard petal, and the mouths of the florets 
fringed,— very pretty and quite new. Creselle, also 
fringed, and reddish yellow flowers. Marionette, a fine 
crome yellow. Miss Talfourd, mentioned from the 
Crystal Palace, and as fine as ever. Madame Lealeuque, 
quite new, and a new colour, a lively chestnut, very 
pretty and distinct. Meteore, a tasselled, light flower, 
with the tips of the florets marked with cherry,—a nice 
thing. Mrs. Fix— also mentioned from the Crystal Palace, 
and warranted the finest of the kind ever produced—is 
a white flower, with rosy edgings, and named after the 
lady of a Reverend gentleman near London. Madame 
Title Franche, creamy white, with rosy edge, and a 
greenish yellow centre,—a very pretty mixture in one 
flower. Signora Pepin, a bronzy lilac, with a yellow 
centre,—a nice trim body this Mrs. Pepin, certainly. 
Mrs. Astie, a fine, yellow anemone, out last spring. 
Perle, a rosy, or blush, lilac anemone. Madame Sentir, 
a fine, pure white anemone. Pasteur Kroli (after the 
Protestant clergyman at Strasburg), rose, with a white 
centre,—the latest, in opening, of all the Pompones. Jaune 
Marguerite, a golden yellow, and as late as Pasteur 
Kroli. Salomon, the darkest violet (mentioned from the 
Crystal Palace), is still as fine as ever, and lighter in the 
centre. Madame Miellez, which is my first to-day, is, 
also, a very dark violet at first, and turns off to the 
most beautiful peachy flower ever seen out of doors. 
Madame is more like Eequiqui, than Salomon, at first; but, 
when both of them are in their winter dress, they would 
pass in Madrid for Senor and Senora something; and 
if you could get a cross between them, and call it Seno¬ 
retta, or Miss Mille, my word for it, you would liar e the 
Perle du Prado of the Spanish capital. As it is, however, 
Salomon and Madame Miellez cannot be matched in 
wedlock, or in beauty, on this side the Pyrenees. 
Madame Fould, which was the best this time last year, 
is still as fine as ever, and all but pure white now; in 
that stage she is a fit match with Princesse Matliilde, 
who is now as white as the driven snow. Every one of 
these were fit for staging in a Queen’s conservatory, and 
most of them will hold on to the new year. 
As a proof of the increased interest in these most useful 
flowers, I may state, that Mr. Salter sold four times more 
