THE FLORIST AND POMOLOGIST. 
[ .Tune, 
82 
they had faced all comers in high places, and 
thus attested their quality. 
And now this much is assured to us, that 
against all unbelief—against all dismal pro¬ 
phecies that the Auricula was to be found ob¬ 
stinate and set against improvement—against 
the telling history of the years bygone, with 
here and there a grand flower gained in here 
and there one long experience—against the 
bold verdict of a veteran grower and critic of 
the day, that he would yet face the newer 
flowers with the old, and go through a show 
with such as Hey’s Apollo and Taylor’s 
“ white-edges ’’ (though in “ greys he could do 
well)—against all this, the Auricula has given 
the bravest protest, and with the chances thus 
far afforded, has lived it down. So that now, 
instead of wondering when another leading- 
variety will appear, our amazement is that 
there have been so few, and what shall be the 
Auriculas of the future if there arise the lovers 
of them to lead them on, and if the hands that 
tend them now be spared to ripe limits of their 
time, ere “ the mowing of the old scythe ” lay 
them with the flower that cometh up and is 
cut down. 
For it is simply contrary to the nature of a 
plant of such derivation as the florists' Auricula 
that there should not continue active, through 
all future generations of carefully-crossed seed, 
the old powers of development, trained and 
strengthened by habit. 
Seedling-raising should be an instinct in the 
florists’ mind; and, indeed, so rich in encour¬ 
agement is this pursuit, that I think the best 
way to commence a collection at the present 
day is for the beginner to seek possession of a 
few young plants of the few best sorts attain¬ 
able, and devote himself to raising seedlings 
from them. He is sure to get something very 
good sooner or later, and then he will be able 
to command, by some brilliant exchange, those 
famous flowers which, intelligibly enough, have 
not a value in gold and silver to their owner, 
inasmuch as money would not again replace 
them; but which, weighed in the balance with 
something of kindred value, might be nego¬ 
tiable with due fairness and mutual advantage. 
To the seedling raiser, the long unwritten 
history of this fascinating flower repeats itself 
with ever fresh and varying illustrations of 
the story. The sportive seedlings reveal to 
him what former florists have met with on 
many a past, unmarked, forgotten way. He 
learns, by a minuteness of detail thus laid 
before him, but which would be tedious under 
any but the living exposition of Nature her¬ 
self, through what unbounded choice of forms 
and colourings the Auricula has been led. He 
will oftentimes have wondered how the edged' 
varieties have been obtained. So, here and 
there, some self-coloured seedling, with merest 
tip of green or white on the roughest points 
of an uneven petal, will tell him that this was 
the first deviation into edged forms, and must 
have been once a great thing in a new way. 
As such, had some florist ancestor selected it 
as a source from which to derive a new com¬ 
bination of beaut}q and from such slight sug¬ 
gestion, dreamed of the flowers that were to 
come long afterwards. 
The usual repotting of these plants after 
the bloom, has revealed one—perhaps the— 
cause why the flowers of 1880 have not, on the 
whole, been equal to an average of correctness, 
beauty, and vigour. Many of the plants did 
not root well from the neck during March and 
April, and in some cases had bloomed entirely 
upon last year’s roots. Where this was so. 
the winter foliage did not stand well, and I 
think, with Benj. Simonite, that the cause has 
lain in imperfect maturity of the autumnal 
growth. The lamentable autumn of 1879 
has had many floral failures laid to its cold 
and rainy memory, and there is the Carnation 
bloom yet to witness against it. The Auri¬ 
cula, indeed, does not need the direct bright¬ 
ness of the harvest-tide sun, but still .In un¬ 
timely sunlessness is felt, even into the very 
depths of shade, and there is an unripeness in 
the gloomy light that strikes everywhere. Up 
to the time of the Auricula bloom the spring 
had not been genial in the North. Through 
the cloud and sunshine of it there had been 
chiefly a bitter north-east wind—not much rain, 
and that so cold that it would have been much 
more honest of it to have come down in hail 
or snow'. 
The question of heat in the treatment of 
Auriculas coming into bloom, seems one that 
is not easily set at rest, notwithstanding all 
that those who have gently used this auxiliary 
at a most critical time, may say in explanation 
of it. Mr. Dombrain upholds that it is more 
