266 
THE GARDENING WORLD. 
December 22, 1894. 
passes a spring about 2,800 ft. high, from which we 
obtain a magnificent view of the apex of the moun¬ 
tain we are in search of. Up, up, up, and here we are 
on the tip-top of our aspirations ! How sublime ! Old 
Sol, himself, welcomes us. Even he extends his glory to 
greet us. His friendship is decidedly characteristic, 
if warmth of feeling may be taken as a criterion of 
good fellowship Peak after peak of other moun¬ 
tains are distinctly visible; scenes such as are only 
possible at such elevations now crowd themselves 
upon us, we are above the clouds; we feel, in fact, 
elevated. This elevation is due, not to anything we 
may have imbibed on the upward journey, but to 
natural causes. We are, then, justified in giving 
vent to those sensations over which we have no 
control, and we claim to be superior to those poor 
mortals who dwell 3,580 feet below us. 
In this frame of mind we resolve to assist Nature, 
and therefore order a cup of Mazawattee, at the 
wooden shelter, as the best means to attain this end. 
We pay a superior price ; but that is of no conse¬ 
quence, we are superior] people. By-the-bye, when 
Sir Edward Watkin takes his railway to, and builds 
his hotel upon, the top of Snowdon, all will be well. 
We again return to Nature, wild, weird, wonderful. 
We remove the surplus moisture from our brows, 
conscious that, in Nature, nothing is lost, and that 
even our superabundance now may, later on, con¬ 
tribute to cloud some mountain moor, or swell some 
mountain stream. We take another look, and agree 
with Burke that “ the extent of this prospect appears 
almost unlimited. The four kingdoms are seen at 
once, Wales, England, Scotland, and Ireland, 
forming the finest panorama the empire can 
boast.” We look again and again, and then begin 
the downward path towards Beddgelert. Such is 
life ! Shifting scenes, lights and shadows, mirth 
and tears. 
There are those who find delight in going up 
Snowdon at night to see the sun rise. Some few 
sleep there with a like object, although this latter 
process is, according to bardic tradition, attendant 
with some evils ; to wit, one may awake either a 
poet or a madman ! I fear there is some truth in 
this quaint alternative, for, though I am certain I 
did not slumber, I became possessed of a feeling 
akin to the former, which is, indeed, by some con¬ 
sidered to be synonymous with the latter. Thus— 
Those who sleep here must early scan the skies, 
If they would see the sun in glory rise; 
But we descend, and westward bend our course, 
While Sol glints all the heights with radiant force. 
At every step fresh glories meet our view, 
And solemn splendour spreads her feet anew. 
Down, down, we go ; examine Nature's book, 
Or mark the course that ancient glaciers took. 
Snowdon, thy craggy crests are still sublime, 
Though strangely scarred by rude, relentless Time ! 
There is no doubt that the ozonic property of 
mountain air is largely stimulative; hence it excites 
our nervous systems, and affects, physiologically, 
our brain centres. At any rate it affected mine; 
therefore I sue for sympathy, as I have now cooled 
down, and, I believe, again become quite normal. 
Pardon this digression. Now we are on the 
serrated ridge of Clawdd Coch—a veritable wall— 
with chasmic valleys on either side, down which we 
hardly dare to glance. So narrow, indeed, is the 
path we are pursuing, that it is enough to frighten 
even the domestic cat, of whose conjuring capabili¬ 
ties you are all doubtless well aware. Having, then, 
with great caution and feline sagacity footed our 
way safely over, we begin again to breathe, and are 
not at all surprised to find on the other side sundry 
persons who lack sufficient nerve to venture more. 
Some were much excited and vowed vows; while 
others, less emotional, expressed content. 
Here my guide and faithful Achates departed ; he 
to get back to civilisation with all speed, I to 
explore the mountains for plants and pleasure. 
Before he went, however, he told me that he used 
to speak contemptuously of the monarch of Wales; 
but that was before he became acquainted with it. 
So it is in other phases of life ; we are often biassed 
against this or that for want of further knowledge. 
Being now alone, as it were, my attention soon 
became absorbed in the 
Flora of the Mountain. 
There was much, however, which was unknown to 
me in this wild elevated region, so that I can only 
record those things with which I am acquainted. 
But as this is a very large subject, and the hour¬ 
glass runs low, I will be as brief as possible. First 
of all we will treat of the Club Mosses (Lycopodium), 
which are essentially Alpine in their habitats. 
Moreover, they are the oldest representatives of an 
extinct class, which can be traced back to a far-away 
period kno\n as the Silurian. They are, therefore, 
interesting on that account. The Alpine Club Moss 
is found growing at great heights, while the Stag’s 
Horn Moss declines to ascend beyond 3,000 feet. 
Several other species occur here, but affect different 
soils and situations. But if Mosses abound, what 
shall we say of Lichens ? Everybody knows they 
are ubiquitous—they upholster the hardest rocks. 
"Art’s finest pencil could but rudely mock 
The rich grey lichens broidered on a rock.” 
The greater the botanist then, the greater the 
ability to see gardens of beauty where simpler folk 
would discern nothing but barrenness and waste. A 
bit lower down I came across stunted specimens of 
the Parsley Fern (Allosorus crispus); but, as I 
descended, this became more and more plentiful, 
until I realised such a picture as I never before had 
seen. The best pieces, however, seemed to luxuriate 
where the sun’s declining rays poured forth their 
fullest measure of warmth and vivification. In the 
damp shady places the Beech Fern peeped forth 
from between huge boulders of stone, which had 
evidently occupied higher elevations at some distant 
date. The Common Polypody, too, began to make 
its presence felt, the Hard Fern exhibited its hard¬ 
ness, while the Aspleniums cheered our checkered 
course over the dark and dangerous clefts and crags. 
That the descent of these rude and rugged rocks 
is not accomplished without risk, I quote the 
following paragraph from an evening paper dated 
October 5th :— 
The facts of a somewhat strange adventure which 
occurred on Snowdon last Sunday morning has just 
transpired. It appears that a number of young men 
ascended Snowdon on Saturday night. Everything 
went well on the outward journey. In descending, 
one of the party missed his footing when about half 
a mile from the summit, and was precipitated down 
the slope for about twelve yards. Fortunately for 
him he had a luncheon basket on his side attached 
to a leather strap. This basket came into contact 
with a piece of rock, and eventually stopped the 
man, but not before he reached the brink of a rocky 
precipice, some twelve or fifteen yards deep. One 
of the advanced guard—Mr. Lester, of the Black 
Lion Hotel, Carnarvon—witnessing the danger the 
poor fellow was in, at once stripped himself of his 
coat and vest and accomplished a most daring and 
dangerous feat by crossing ricketty rocks to where 
the man was lying. Arriving there, Mr. Lester found, 
him in a semi-conscious condition. With one hand 
he took hold of a piece of rock, whde with the other 
he endeavoured to take a firm grip of his friend by 
the collar. This caused the young man great dis¬ 
comfort, almost approaching strangulation, until at 
last he managed to have the better part of his body 
hanging over the precipice. Mr. Lester stood firm, 
and kept the man as quiet as he possibly could. 
Another man (Mr. R. G. Jones, Llanddeiniolen) had 
taken a circuitous route, and climbed the rocks from 
below to Mr. Lester’s assistance. At last, but none 
too soon, he arrived at the very spot where he was 
wanted. Taking hold of the man by the legs he 
managed to hoid him up until Mr. Lester got a 
better grip of his collar. Had Mr. Jones been a 
minute later both men would have fallen below and 
met a terrible death, for as soon as Mr. Jones had 
taken hold of the man's legs the piece of rock by 
which Mr. Lester was clinging gave way. Eventually, 
the latter got another hold, and got his man, at the 
risk of his life, once more to the path. The party 
arrived two hours later at Peny Pass, with a bitter 
experience of a night on Snowdon. 
The event here chronicled is only one of many 
which happen from time to time on this mountain. 
This occurred about a fortnight subsequent to my 
visit, while one, ending in fatal results, took place 
about a fortnight previously. But danger is more 
or less synonymous with delight, whether it be on 
high or low lands. Certain it is that the rarest of 
our wild plants are only to be found amid the most 
inaccessible crags of our highest mountains. 
The genus Saxifragra, for instance, loves the cool 
air of elevated regions, and some species are never 
found away from these conditions. S. stellaris 
thrives beside the mountain rill; S. oppositifolia 
prefers the darker recesses ; and S. nivalis enjoys the 
most inclement exposures. Arabis petraea, or the 
Alpine Rock-cress, is quite common ; Silene acaulis 
is sometimes called the Snowdon Pink ”; and 
Sedum Rhodiola lives a lonely life. 
The Alpine Hawkweeds, Cudweeds, Mountain 
Everlasting (Antennaria dioica), Cerastium alpinum, 
Thalictrum alpinum, and a host of other things are 
distributed over the flanks and summits of Snow¬ 
donia. Many of these, we are told, are but remnants 
of an Arctic flora ; they are found not only on the 
Welsh and Scotch Highlands, which are the oldest 
in the world, but on Continental ranges, and there¬ 
fore have the same common origin. It would be 
interesting to discuss this origin—it is a fascinating 
topic ; but time determines otherwise. Let us then 
continue the descent. Here is one of the roughest 
roads I have ever experienced; boulders piled on 
boulders in the acme of confusion. If I had not 
descended so far I should be inclined to return. But 
no ; having put my hand to the plough, the move¬ 
ment must be forward. One of the charms (?) 
of botanising in an unknown district is the 
probability of finding one’s-self submerged in a 
bog to the extent of half one’s height. There is, 
however, a limit to descent, and I have attained that 
limit. My fervent wish in these circumstances was 
that my boots were boats, for I had evidently 
“ rushed in where angels feared to tread.” But even 
these conditions were opportune, otherwise I should 
not have been aware of the Bog Moss, the Sundew, 
the Pimpernel, the Grass of Parnassus, or the 
Sedges and [Rushes, which became to me only too 
apparent. I would not have miuded this, only the 
sun was going down as well as myself, and I realised 
for the first time that I was all at sea ! 
In this predicament, I am bound to add that all 
interest centred in myself. There was no alterna¬ 
tive. It was a question of self-preservation, and, 
therefore, I scanned the horizon with a keen and 
critical eye. Ah ! two dark, human forms were now 
visible in the dim distance. I hailed ; they answered. 
After traversing more bog and otherwise escapading, 
1 came up to them. They were one. That is to say 
they were man and wife. He could not speak our 
barbaric tongue; she knew a cypher or two, and 
comprehended my plight. Anyhow, I had regained 
the beaten track, and 
My heart was full of pleasure, 
My knapsack ditto treasure, 
My boots, well—couldn't measure. 
About a mile further on we came to the village of 
Rhyd-ddu, a lovely spot, as I subsequently found 
out, situated on the lower slopes of Snowdon, 
between Llyn Cwellyn and Beddgelert. 
Here I remained for the night, at the “ Qqellyn 
Arms,” under the protection of widow Jones, and 
surrounded by scenery of the most beautiful order. 
After a substantial repast I began to look about. 
Everything was Welsh, even the literature. In the 
visitors’ book I found some consolation, for I noted 
there that a Saxon family of six persons from Ealing 
had been up the mountain a month before and had 
seen nothing! I had seen something; hence my 
consolation. 
Although I have by no means exhausted my notes 
—for I rambled twenty miles the next day, back to 
Llanberis, through the most enchanting scenery—I 
am quite sure that I have exhausted your patience, 
even if I have not merited your condemnation. But 
if, on the other hand, you can admit some justifica¬ 
tion, the pleasure of perusing these lines will be 
greatly enhanced, and the success of a most interest¬ 
ing holiday positively assured.— C. B. Green, Acton. 
- — i -- 
SPECIALISM IN GARDENING. 
I have read with deep interest the remarks of " G.” 
in your number for Dec. 8, and am entirely with him 
in thought. It seems to be out of all reason to tax 
men's brains to such an extent as is now done. 
Some men are at a place, may be, for six months, 
and just when they have got the measure of its 
capabilities, for some reason or other leave and go to 
another situation of a totally different character. 
This is constantly going on, with the result that 
numbers of men are knocking about half their 
time and never really perfect themselves in any¬ 
thing. Take as an example the iron trade; you 
find in that industry that there are rivetters, fitters, 
strikers, moulders, and others, all employed in per¬ 
fecting one thing. In my opinion specialism means 
going the right way. The present day gardener has 
too much on his hands to keep ahead of the require¬ 
ments of many establishments. 
