10 
THE GARDENING WORLD. 
September J, 1894. 
A RAMBLE ON BEACHY 
HEAD. 
Happy are those who, though pent up in towns all 
the week, yet live within easy distance of that bold 
headland in Sussex known as Beachy Head, and 
lying a little to the west of Eastbourne. Almost 
immediately on leaving the town the ascent of the 
chalk cliffs is commenced. It is an easy afternoon 
walk for those who are light of foot, and the 
journey may be made by the carriage road which 
ascends by easy stages, or the traveller may choose 
to walk over the top of the Downs the whole way, 
and though the first rise is rather abrupt it is capital 
exercise unless the day is uncomfortably warm and 
still. On the other hand a bracing breeze is very 
frequent in those parts, and under those conditions 
the necessary exertion is exhilarating rather than 
otherwise. Provided the sea is ebbing the journey 
can be made along the narrow and rough gravelly 
beach till the perpendicular cliffs of Beachy Head 
are reached. There are several well-worn pathways 
by which the ascent from the shore to the heights 
may be made in the course of the journey, and also 
steep grassy slopes that can safely be surmounted 
by those who care for alpine climbing. In any case 
the ascent must be made some time before the per¬ 
pendicular cliffs are reached. Whichever way is 
taken, will all depend upon the object the traveller 
has in view. Those in quest of wild plants will find 
it convenient to vary the journey up or down, when¬ 
ever appearances give promise of finding something 
rare, beautiful or interesting. 
On leaving Eastbourne by the sea margin, the 
cliffs rise rather rugged and perpendicularly, but at 
various period of the year the botanist will find 
much that is interesting even if beyond reach in 
many cases. Such is the case with the Wallflower, 
as a rule, and this is now bearing seeds abundantly 
to be scattered over the chalk cliffs presently. Over 
three hundred years ago this plant was known by 
the English name of Wall floure or Yellow Gillofers. 
In the last name the reader will probably recognise 
the name of Gilliflower as applied to Carnations. 
In those days the name was also applied to Stocks ; 
and at the same time the Wallflower was known by 
names signifying the Yellow Viola in Latin, Italian, 
and French. The Auricula-leaved Sea Lavender is 
fairly plentiful, growing out of the bare chalk or 
sometimes dangling by the roots from the same. 
The Yellow Toad Flax is very conspicuous in many 
places, for its large yellow flowers have an intense 
orange palate. The field Rest Harrow is very 
plentiful and still producing its rosy flowers freely. 
The beautiful blue of the Viper’s Bugloss is attrac¬ 
tive wherever it occurs. I am surprised that it 
should not be more universally cultivated in gardens. 
Three hundred years ago it was also called Oxtongue, 
and that is really a translation of the word Bugloss 
and refers to the roughness of the leaves. Most of 
these old names have a meaning, and we find in the 
learned D. Rembert Dodoen’s “ New Herbal,” dated 
1578, a hint of the meaning of the first part of the 
name Viper’s Bugloss. Here he says :—“ The small 
Buglosses have greate vertue against all the venim 
of savage and wilde beastes, and specially against 
the poison of serpents and vipers, howsoever it be 
taken whether in meate or drinke, or whether it be 
carried about you.” Elsewhere .he says “ The 
physitions of our time do affirm that the floures 
steeped in wine or made into a conserve, causeth 
such to rejoyce and be gladde as were before heavie 
and sadde, full of anger and melancholique heavi¬ 
ness.” This is a statement that applies to a great 
many of our wild plants that were formerly used in 
medicine. Dodoens spoke as if he did not altogether 
believe it, for he says the physicians of our time do 
affirm, etc. As there are no vipers in England now, 
the efficacy of the Viper's Bugloss or otherwise is a 
matter of no consequence to us. 
Farther westward the sea bank is more sloping, 
and in some places, corn or hay fields come to the 
very brink of the perpendicular cliff, the base of 
which is almost washed by the sea at full tide mark. 
Here vegetation is more varied, and one meets with 
Lucerne and White Mustard, the latter 3 ft. to 4 ft. 
high and both probably escapes from cultivation. 
The Giant Knapweed with its great purple heads is 
very plentiful, as is the case generally in chalky dis¬ 
tricts. The common Marjoram is now pretty and 
engaging with its rosy purple flowers. The field 
Scabious and the Dove’s-foot Scabious attract the 
casual observer by their pale blue or blue-purple 
flowers. The steep and grassy slopes well on to¬ 
wards the promontory are simply charming, at the 
present time with wild flowers that give the turf a 
checquered and many-coloured hue. Besides several 
of the plants already mentioned there is the Musk 
Thistle with its great, purple and fragrant heads, the 
Carline Thistle with its bright yellow and shiny 
bracts glistening in the sun like a yellow Sea Ane¬ 
mone having its arms spread out on all sides, and the 
wild Carrot often with pink buds, white flowers, and 
purplish fruit. The Stemless Thistle with one to six 
dark purple flowers from a single crown is also a feature 
that arrests the attention whatever hurry the be¬ 
holder may be in. The Squinancy-wort, a plant 
allied to the Woodruff enlivens the turf everywhere ; 
but the most conspicuous and interesting plant, 
because quite uncommon away from chalky downs, 
is the Round-headed Rampion with its dense head 
of dark blue flowers. The grass literally swarms 
with it; but the plant is generally confined to a 
single stem, although as many as six may sometimes 
be found. Mingling with the above are the yellow 
and white flowered species of Bedstraw, and number¬ 
less others which are more common. Looking over 
the cliffs, one can see the tufts of Seakale springing 
out from the crevices of the chalk, and producing 
healthy masses of deep glaucous blue, fleshy leaves 
and often large, branching clusters of fruit. Mingling 
with it are vigorous plants of the Horned Poppy with 
its yellow flowers and long, curved pods. In other 
places the Lady’s Finger or Woundwort is still 
producing its yellow flower heads in clusters of 
one to three. 
Here truly is a bit of wild nature and however 
delighted the farmer and commercial man may be to 
see fields waving with golden grain or green with 
Turnips or Mangels, he could hardly fail to 
appreciate a bit of nature like this and as yet un¬ 
touched by the hand of man. The day being bright 
but very windy on the occasion of my last visit the 
Butterflies and day flying Moths kept low down 
amongst the grass in sheltered places but particularly 
in the hollows to prevent their being blown over the 
cliffs; but quite a cloud of them continued to rise on 
being disturbed. The Painted Lady with its black, 
brown and orange-red colours and white spots was con¬ 
spicuous for its size, while the small Heaths the 
meadow Browns and various others mixed with 
sportive groups of Blues, whose Argus-like spots on 
the wings when seen at rest were even as charming 
as the soft blue with the silvery appearance of the 
upper surface of the males, while the ladies in the 
same group wore a garb of more sober brown. 
Here also the Burnet Moths have a home, and are 
charming in their blue-black hue spotted with crim¬ 
son-red. Here too grows the Burnet in abundance, 
which, when one sits down upon it, smells like 
Cucumbers or the foliage of Meadow Sweet; or 
according to our old author of 300 years ago, "of 
savour and smell most amiable or pleasant.” 
The grassy slopes stretching down from the Coast¬ 
guard station to the edge of the precipices, consist of 
a dense sward of closely cropped herbage, no doubt 
kept dwarf to a great extent by the exposed and 
windy situation of the place. Here the plants are 
very dwarf, with the flowers studding the turf and 
scarcely rising from it. Sweet smelling Thyme, 
Ling, Betony, Eyebright, two or three species of 
Scabious, black Knapweed, Bird’s-foot Trefoil, 
Squinancy-wort, the Thistles already mentioned, 
and other plants are remarkable for their dwarfness, 
and render the turfy carpet beautiful and interesting. 
The Autumn Gentian forms dense tufts about ij in. 
high, or even less, and grows down almost to the 
edge of the precipice. Half way down the cliffs the 
Sparrow-hawk, the most daring and spirited of the 
British hawks, was suspended in mid-air, and often 
apparently almost motionless while looking for its 
dinner on the grassy cliffs below, and heedless of the 
human eyes looking down upon it from above. 
Beyond the Coastguard station, and on the land¬ 
ward side of Beachy Head are broad stretches of 
Furze,intersected by alleys from which the shrub has 
been cut, while in other places the bushes have been 
burnt apparently with intention to get a young 
growth. In these comparently open spaces, wild 
plants grow with much greater luxuriance than on 
the drier and steeper, seaward cliffs. In addition to 
many plants already mentioned, are fine tufts of the 
Clustered Bellflower, luxuriant patches of the large 
form of the Wild Thyme, the fragrant Wild Basil, 
the common Pimpernel, or Bipinnula of old authors, 
the Cut-leaved Mignonette, the Burnet Rose, with 
red berry-like galls upon the leaves, and the field 
Sow Thistle, with its large, showy, and golden 
flower heads. Here also the Cowslip and hairy 
Violet flower in spring. The dwarf Spurge is very 
much dwarfed and crippled by the rusty cluster cups 
of a fungus with which it is infested. The White 
Horehound is by no means a common plant, but is 
here seeding abundantly. The Rigid Inule or 
Ploughman's Spikenard is rather an ungainly plant, 
but the shining, reddish-purple bracts render it inter¬ 
esting. The above is by no means exhaustive of the 
flora of the district, but this article is already too 
lengthy. The pleasure of such a walk cannot, how¬ 
ever, be overrated, and it is a thousand pities such 
places are not more plentiful near the great centres 
of population. Even Beachy Head, however, is de¬ 
stined to disappear, although not in our day. The 
phrase we occasionally hear of, namely, the “ ever¬ 
lasting hill,” loses all significance in presence of the 
crumbling chalky cliffs of our coast, and Beachy 
Head is no exception, for many are therefts, cracks, 
and slips to be seen even in the steepest portions, 
which are gradually being undermined by the sea, 
and disintegrated by the air, rain, and frost. Tne 
water of the sea all round the cliffs is at all times 
white with the crumbling chalk brought about by 
the restless action of the waves, whether in calm or 
storm.— Rambler. 
STOKING. 
This is a subject usually associated with sharp 
weather, frost and snow, and the spring of the year, 
when forcing may be said to be in full swing; at 
this season the theme may to some seem out of 
place, premature as it were, although ere long I 
expect to see a well-known firm advertising the re¬ 
minder, “ Look to your boilers, winter approaches ! ” 
But in most gardening establishments, at least, 
those of any size and pretensions, stoking, to a 
certain extent, has to be carried on all the year 
round. This season has not been like the last—all 
fair weather and sunshine—when most stoking could 
be safely dispensed with. This year the weather 
has been so variable, dull, and quite cold at times, 
accompanied by plenty of rain, so that it has not 
been at all advisable to discontinue the use of fires. 
When I notice the carelessness and apparent 
apathy displayed by some young men of the present 
day in their stoking, I wonder hew they would have 
fared under some of the strict and good old 
gardeners of forty years ago. I am afraid many of 
them would—as the Yankees say—have to “ make 
tracks ” to fields afresh and pastures new. In many 
gardens, and especially small ones, the stoke-hole is 
a regular muck-hole, with no cleanliness or tidiness 
belonging to it, though I must admit that some 
heating apparatuses are situated in queer places. I 
can call to mind two that had no protection what¬ 
ever—the sky only for a roof, and where it was a 
difficult matter sometimes to find the fuel after a 
snowstorm—such places are a disgrace to any 
garden and ought never to exist. Small wonder is 
it that they get stoked and looked after in a half¬ 
hearted manner. 
In the present day, thanks to the perfection to 
which heating by hot water has been brought, 
stoking is a pleasure to what it was years ago, when 
heating by flues was in vogue. It was then a 
laborious task requiring careful manipulation, for I 
have heard my tather mention that a nobleman’s 
place in the Midlands about forty-five years ago he 
had no less than nineteen fires to do at night in the 
spring of the year. What a vast difference to the 
present day ! Now they would heat the whole by 
one or two boilers. But in many gardens where the 
glass has been erected a number of years it lacks 
uniformity of arrangement; it looks as though a 
house was built at a time and a separate fire allotted 
to each. What tons of fuel they must have wasted 
in the good old days ! 
At the place from which 1 write there were eight 
houses heated by flues and eight fires so recent as a 
decade ago ! But I am pleased to state that it is 
altered now ; we have more glass, hot water, and 
two fires only. It is an old saying, “ that a clean 
stoker makes a good forcer,” and certain it is that 
those who take a pride in stoking are the men to be 
trusted with the charge of glasshouses; even if the 
outside temperature falls to zero they will look after 
it. Some, to whom night duty is a bore, will go 
round their fires and make them up without even 
