B. Ckiuiell & Sons 1 Floral Quide. 
V g: f% 
* 5 C ‘ 
A KENTISH FLORIDA. 
From the “ECHO,” June 29th, 1894. 
Fifteen miles away from town, in a fold of the Kentish hills, well sheltered from the winds, is 
the ** Home of Flowers”—well named, for tlure the flowers are not merely displayed, hut bred and 
nursed. At divers exhibitions we had admired the marvellous productions that hail from Swanley, 
and had often wished to see their birthplace ; so, in the glorious sunshine of Monday we sped 
thither, and spent a couple of delightful hours, as the hospitable proprietor made in free of the 
place, and his son inducted us into its wonders. The explanations which young Mr. Cannell so 
good-naturedlv gave fell on unlearned ears, and we will not attempt to unveil the mysteries of 
cross-breeding and propagation by which such remarkable results are achieved, nor to describe the 
varieties of choice, yet unnamed, seedlings which we saw. Messrs. Cannell & Sons' catalogue will 
supply details to those who are curious. Let it suffice to say that, like everything else which is 
worth doing, the breeding of new varieties of plants must be done well, and implies much trouble, 
care, and judgment, and not a few disappointments. Out of 2,700 seedlings, if there are six showing 
improvement the breeder is thankful. It is hard to know where to begin to convey an impression 
of that miny-hued vision we saw at Swanley. Perhaps the Begonias are most in evidence just 
now. There are ‘200,000 of them in boxes, thumb pots, and cuttings, and regiments of matured 
plants in bloom, of nearly every hue and shade save blue. The principal aims in Begonia-rearing 
at Swanley are directness and free-blooming, directness being the overcoming of the tendency to 
droop. The expert knows which h rarest, but it would be hard to say which is fairest amid such 
varied beauty. If one inclines to give the palm to the rich crimson of Leopold Rothschild, the 
superb yellow of Miss Falconer catches the eye, and hesitation is born of the exquisite blending of 
the pink and orange of Mary Cornell; whilst the sweetness of the pure white Octavie appeals 
against the sulphur splendours of the Rev. LasceUes. and a moment later we sav, “Can anything be 
finer than those rich bronze-yellows, more magnificent than the rose-like flo wers of Rosebud?” Here 
are the Fuchsias, and among them one of the most remarkable sights that Swanley has to show to 
horticulturists—namely, a “sport” thrown off by a Fuchsia. The variety named Phenomenal, 
produced some years ago by Messrs. Cannell, has a purple corolla. One of the plants, not at 
Swanley, bore flowers with red and then with white corolla. The plant was re-purchased, 
and is being propagated. Wc believe that the throwing off a “sport” by a Fuchsia is 
almost unprecedented. Very lovely are the Ivy-leaf Geraniums—there are 40 varieties— 
and we noted unwonted colours among the Pelargoniums, purple, pinks, white centres with crimson 
edges, and the still stranger Bluebeard, but the most brilliant mass of colour just now at Swanley is 
yielded by the Canncts the orange and scarlet spikes of Kiiniyin Charlotte flame in contrast to the 
more subdued tones of the Duchess of York, powdered with minute crimson spots. Hard by are the 
Gloxinias with their deep bells of velvet texture. One rich crimson variety, the Beacon , had subtle 
tones and reflections, and an intensity which gave it a peculiar charm. Outside Kew, the Cacti at 
Swanley have no rivals. Every corner of the globe has been ransacked for specimens of the 
grotesque vegetable forms through which nature seems to have indulged in a quiet humour as 
a relief to her labours. There are the Old Man Cactus, with his grey poll, the Candle 'Free. Aloes. 
Agaves, Prickly Pears, and last hut not least the crowns of the Resurrection Plant, which rolls itself 
up into a tuft ball and is blown and rolled from one side of the vast desert to the other, waiting for 
the rainy season : it immediately then becomes green, roots into the sand, and remains a verdant 
green until the hot season sets in again and hundreds of sp3cies of which we know not the names, 
smooth, thorny, stiff, or trailing, some tiny ones, cushion-shaped and reticulated with exquisite 
patterns as if the dairies had been making pillow lace ; and among them are the mysterious night 
flowers, that dIooui for a few hours in the darkness once only—weird, uncanny members of the 
floral kingdom, shunning the society of their kind. One opened its great snn-fike petals receutly, 
hut it requires careful watching not to miss them, for they bloom sometimes earlier than appearances 
indicate. Through the rockery, with its Saxifragas and Alpine growths, we come to the aquatic 
garden, a series of three tanks connected with each other, and devoted to the cultivation of the rarer 
water plants like Nymphcea rosea. Why are water gardens not more general among us ? The want 
of water may be the cause in some cases, but not in most. They have a charm which is certainly 
not exceeded by lawn, parterre, or shrubbery. We had intended to say something about the vellow 
Arnm Lillies—there will be pink ones soon at Swanley—and the general aspect of the gardens, with 
their tall hedges of copper Beech—nipped like much else, including, alas! the Strawberries, by the 
May frost. But we must renounce the task. We have lifted the corner of the veil. Perhaps the 
glimpse afforded will serve to convey some idea of the floral wealth hidden in the hollow below 
Swanley Junction, 
( iii ) 
a 2 
