156 
THE GARDENING WORLD 
November 5, 1898. 
CAERLEON. 
I trust the readers of the Gardening World 
will not be led into a fit of ebullition when they catch 
sight of the above heading, for it does not represent 
a fair domain beloved of some noble proprietor, but 
stands, in all good faith, for the name of an ancient 
city. Caerleon (pronounced Kar-le-un, with the 
accent on the penultimate syllable), then has little or 
nothing to do with horticulture, as we understand it; 
and yet I venture to suggest that in the early days of 
the Roman occupation, horticulture—itself a Latin 
term—received its due share of attention, for what 
are the splendours of architecture, or the magnifi¬ 
cence of courts, without the grateful foil of the Palm, 
the Myrtle, or the Pomegranate. Here, then, in 
ancient times the Romans revelled, and no doubt 
plants formed part of their ornamentation ; while later 
King Arthur came, and saw and conquered. Alas ! 
Caerleon is now a decayed city—a mere village; 
and not an interesting one either, apart from its old 
associations, and the historical antiquity of its site 
and surroundings. Its present name is adjudged to 
come from Caer, a fortified camp or city, and leon, 
a corruption of legionum, “ City of the Legions,” 
and ancient capital of Britannia Secunda. It was the 
Isca Silurum of the Romans, and in those days a 
rival to London ! In fact, Caerleon was the larger 
city of the two. How are the mighty fallen ! and by 
by what occult influences have the degeneration of 
the one and the sublimity of the other become so 
odiously apparent ? Caerleon is situated in a 
beautiful valley in Monmouth on the river L'sk; 
and, therefore, as regards position, it is most suitable 
for, and should thus occupy some prominence in, 
horticulture. Fruits, flowers, and vegetables could 
surely be forced here by natural causes—if I may 
use an apparent contradiction—for I can safely aver 
that I never experienced such thermal conditions, or 
more liquescent moments in this country than when 
I wandered about the empty thoroughfares and past 
the dirty-looking stone houses of this erstwhile 
" city ” now forsaken of man. Being in the neighbour¬ 
hood 1 visited the place several times, for although I 
could not shake off a certain peculiar depression, I 
was still attracted to the spot by a sort of fascination, 
the reason for which it would be difficult to diagnose. 
Sentiment, however, often gets the upper hand of 
sense; although I do not mean to say that there is 
nothing here, outside historical matters, that is 
worth a visit, for there are several good houses and 
gardens in this “ city ” and district. 
Horticulture, even, is looking up, for a flower show 
is held annually in the Castle Villa grounds. There 
are, however, two peculiarities about this show ; 
one is that the prizes are in kind, the winners being 
instructed "to go to one of our advertisers (in the 
schedule), buy an article to the prize-value, get a 
receipt for the price paid, and upon producing this 
receipt the prize-money will be paid.” Is not this 
rather a round-about way of doing business ? At any 
rate it is good business—for the advertisers. Another 
feature, so I understand, is that small military tents 
are used ; so that in the case of competitive groups, 
or collections of vegetables, the judges and the 
visitors would have to peep inside different tents to 
make comparisons ! Is this an ancient or a modern 
institution ? or is it merely a " link with the past ” 
which the editor of the Gardening World suggests 
would be ” highly interesting.” Although the local 
museum is rich in relics of the past, fossil plants are 
absent as far as I observed. 
The gardener at the Castle Villa, Mr. Deroy, was 
kind enough, not only to show us round the grounds, 
but also to act as chaperon to some other curiosities 
of the place. 
The gardens are enclosed within high walls, on 
which, as befits the antiquity of the structure, crypto- 
gamic plants are found. In addition to moss and 
lichen, Ferns abound. Here we have the Brittle 
Bladder Fern (Cystopteris fragilis); the common 
Polypody (Polypodium vulgare) ; the scaly Spleen- 
wort, or rusty-back Fern, (Asplenium Ceterach); the 
common Maiden-hair Spleenwort (A. Trichomanes); 
and the tiniest of all British ferns, the Wall Rue (A. 
Ruta-muraria). 
These things, however, are of little moment to the 
practical man ; he wants fruit, or flowers, or foliage ; 
and so he supplants wild nature with exotic things 
born of another dime, and coaxes and cares for such 
plants only as are deemed worthy of special regard. 
On the walls then, a variety of Roses, Bignonias, 
Ivies, etc., take the place of native vegetation, while 
the borders are floriferous with exotic plants. 
The sweet le mon-scented VerbeiJa (Aloysia citrio- 
dora), of doubtful hardiness further north, has been 
out here in the open air for five or six years. A fine 
Catalpa bignonioides also evidences the soil and site, 
and fruits of all kinds do exceedingly well. Tomatos 
ripen out of doors, and vegetables make strong 
growth. In this enclosure there still remains an 
object of fame, called ‘' the Mound,” or ” the Tump ” 
—a small, steep hill, of doubtful character, said to 
have been raised by Norman hands, upon which 
stood an ancient citadel. Giraldus Cambriensis 
described it two hundred years ago as a ruin, but a 
solid one. The mound is about go ft. high, and 
something like 300 yards in circumference at its 
base. It is clothed with Ivy, Fern, and Pine; in 
fact— 
“ The parasitic Ivy chokes the trees, 
Saps the dear life, and brings about disease.” 
Another curiosity is the Round Table of King 
Arthur in a field close by. The " Round Table,” 
being an oval depression in the form of an amphi¬ 
theatre, it would seem as if the shadow, so to speak, 
had been taken for the substance. Tradition is 
responsible for many anomalies, although the Welsh 
bards would seem to imply that the depression in 
question was the seat of, and not the table itself. 
They have sung : — 
“ How he first ordain'd the circled board, 
The knights whose martial deeds far-famed that 
table round— 
***** 
That table’s ancient seat.” 
Those, however, who are interested in the literary 
aspect of the question may consult the Arthurian 
poems of the late Lords Tennyson and Bulwer 
Lytton. Since the railway came to Caerleon, the 
latter has made some attempt at expansion, but this 
even has come too late, for Caerleon is a doomed 
city; it is doomed to lose its individuality; it is 
doomed to be absorbed in the inevitable vortex of 
progress by Newport, its rich relative, which is 
already dangerously near, and which is, in fact, sur¬ 
reptitiously stealing a march on the poor old city. 
Tis long ago since old Caerleon 
Was city, capital, and key on 
The tortuous Usk. 
Its military glories and its table 
Are left alone to us in fable, 
Sculpture, tile, or tusk. 
To-day we mourn departed splendour—- 
We look upon the past and wonder 
How the city fell. 
To-morrow, all is o’er : no paean 
Can we chant to old Caerleon 
But a sad farewell! 
— C. B. G.. Acton, W. 
ARDEN 1NG fflSCELLAWY. 
POLYGONUM POLYSTACHYUM. 
During the past season this Himalayan species of 
Polygonum seems to have sprung into popularity as 
a plant for cut flowers late in the year, say during 
October, when the purity and gracefulness of its 
myriads of small white flowers become very con¬ 
spicuous, from the fact that hardy herbaceous sub¬ 
jects, with the exception of Asters, Sunflowers and 
and similar Composites, are getting scarce. The 
leaves are lanceolate, but narrowed to small auricles 
at the base, thin in texture and glabrous. To their 
bright green colour the footstalks offer a cheerful 
contrast, when of a bright red, but the intensity of 
the latter is due chiefly to the extent of exposure to 
sunshine. The greatest drawback to the species is 
the height it attains, for it may vary from 3 ft. to 
7 ft. in height, according to the richness of the soil 
and the abundance or otherwise of moisture. It is 
generally shown under the name of P. molle, a name 
given to it by Wight, leones, t. 1807, but the name 
P. molle was given to an entirely different plant by 
D. Don, so that Wallich’s name, P. polystachyum, 
should be retained by right of priority. The true 
P. molle has much smaller and very hairy leaves, 
that are quite of a gray colour during the summer 
months. 
A YELLOW PINK. 
A Pink on the rockery at Kew, under the name of 
Dianthus Knappii, has clear yellow or primrose- 
yellow flowers of moderate size, and produced in 
dense terminal clusters, on leafy stems about 12 in. 
high. The habit recalls that of D. Seguieri, but the 
linear leaves are of a deep glaucous hue. It is 
referred, however, to D. liburnicus, a native of 
South and Eastern Europe. The description of D. 
liburnicus says the flowers are red, and D. Balbisii 
is given as a synonym. In any case, a Pink with 
yellow flowers should not be ignored nor lost sight 
sight of. A skilful hybridist might be able to im¬ 
part its colour to the garden race of Pinks, derived 
from D. plumarius. A new race might be woiked up 
from it by seed raising and selection, or by crossing 
it with some other species. Yellow Carnations are 
already a reality, but an impetus might be given to 
the Pinks by the raising of a yellow-flowered race. 
A FiNE STRAIN OF CELOSIAS. 
Some massive and splendidly coloured plumes of 
Celosia pyramidalis have reached us from Mr. David 
W. Thomson, 24, Frederick Street, Edinburgh. 
There were three well defined colours, namely, 
crimson, rose-carmine and bright yellow. The first- 
named was represented by a remarkably compact 
and pyramidal panicle about 10 in. long, or 14 in. to 
the base of the lower and stronger branches. The 
rose-carmine panicle was considerably longer, but 
more spreading, both the primary branches and 
secondary branchlets being longer, but beautiful 
withal on account of their rich colour. The yellow 
was also a freely branched panicle, and equally 
meritorious in its way to the others. There is no 
question, however, that the rich crimson is the finest 
variety of all, both by reason of its velvety-crimson 
colour, and the massiveness of its compact plumy 
mass like velvety-crimson moss. The grower has 
likewise acquitted himself creditably, and for con¬ 
servatory work the specimens he has produced could 
hardly be surpassed. In any case we have never 
seen finer specimens, and when the lateness of the 
season is considered, their value is greatly enhanced. 
--- 
CATS. 
The domestic cat is a widely distributed animal 
that renders good service when it confines itself to 
its legitimate occupation of catching rats and mice. 
In England it has numerous admirers, especially, it 
is said, amongst elderly maiden ladies, who, having 
been deprived of the joys of marriage, feel impelled 
to lavish their unappropriated affections upon some¬ 
thing. 
Amongst the ancient Egyptians cats were the 
objects of special veneration, and even in our own 
day there is not a museum of Egyptian curiosities 
which does not contain at least one mummified 
specimen of the destroyer of mice in all its 
innocence. 
The cull of the cat, in a modified form it is true, 
has survived even to the present day, and there are 
many dwellers in the suburbs of London who would 
unhesitatingly affirm, if questioned, that they prefer 
their cats to all their other pets. 
These animals possess numerous qualities; it is 
even said that they have nine lives. Their musical 
proclivities are well known, particularly on a fine 
moonlit night, when, regardless of the hour, they 
give receptions characterised by a strict attention to 
crescendo and diminuendo. At first sight it seems 
as if there was hardly any connection between cats 
and Chrysanthemums, but experience goes to prove 
the contrary, notwithstanding what many people 
may think. 
The amateur gardeners in the neighbourhood of 
London are not long in learning that the cultivation 
of the Chrysanthemum cannot be followed without 
meeting numerous and serious difficulties. Among 
the enemies which have to be met cats are not the 
least destructive and malevolent. They commit all 
sorts of depredations, and are responsible for many 
of the expressions which a self-respecting pater¬ 
familias would do his best to prevent his children 
from hearing. We believe that if the most en¬ 
thusiastic member of the Society for the Prevention 
of Cruelty to Animals took to growing Chrysanth¬ 
emums he would quickly sever his connection with 
that society, in order that he might, without qualms 
of conscience, wreak his vengeance upon the cats. 
These creatures not only make night hideous 
with their caterwaulings, but, to add insult to 
injury, they choose for their meeting place the 
amateur’s cherished garden. Their occupation dur¬ 
ing the hours of darkness consists chiefly in upset- 
