12 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
January  7,  1897 
of  any  kind  is  needed.  Should  the  roots  be  scarce,  and  the  plants 
in  consequence  difficult  to  make  rigid  in  their  pots  or  pans,  a  stake 
to  one  or  two  of  the  old  pseudo-bulbs  may  be  given,  but  the  young 
shoots  have  fixed  themselves  by  means  of  the  roots  long  before  any 
artificial  support  is  necessary  to  them. 
As  a  rule  D.  Wardianum  commences  to  grow  very  early  in  the 
season.  This  necessitates  the  plants  being  kept  in  a  good  light,  other¬ 
wise  the  shoots  will  be  apt  to  damp  off.  Very  little  water  will  be 
needed  until  they  commence  to  root  on  their  own  account,  and  just 
before  this  root  emission  is  the  most  suitable  time  to  renew  the 
compost.  Like  most  of  the  deciduous  kinds  D.  Wardianum 
thrives  best  in  pans  or  baskets  of  very  restricted  size,  the  small 
pans  made  for  suspending,  and  now  so  much  in  vogue,  answering 
for  them  very  well.  If  baskets  are  used  the  plants  thrive  well, 
but  are  more  difficult  to  remove  than  from  the  pans. 
Half  fill  the  pan  with  drainage,  and  fix  the  plants  firmly  in  the 
usual  peat  and  moss  mixture.  They  must  be  taken  at  once  to  the 
warmest  house  at  command,  and  a  brisk  moist  temperature  kept  up 
all  through  the  spring  and  summer.  Only  a  very  little  shading  is 
needed,  and  this  of  the  lightest  description,  so  that  the  plants  in  a 
manner  ripen  as  they  grow.  The  growth  in  most  cases  will  be  very 
rapid,  and  by  August  the  terminal  leaves  usually  appear.  When 
the  stems  have  quite  done  growing  haDg  the  plants  in  any  light 
unshaded  house  for  a  week  or  two,  and  as  the  leaves  begin  to  lose 
colour  and  fall  lessen  the  water  supply  by  degrees. 
The  ripening  process  is  very  important,  and  may  be  hastened 
by  placing  the  plants  out  of  doors  in  the  full  sun  for  a  few  weeks, 
protecting  them  only  from  the  heaviest  rains.  They  must  not  be 
kept  absolutely  dry  at  this  time,  but  a  very  limited  supply  of 
water  suffices.  Take  them  under  cover  before  any  danger  of  frost 
is  apprehended,  keeping  them  as  cool  as  possible,  and  after  all  the 
leaves  are  off  quite  dry.  The  plants  may  then  have  a  long  and 
complete  rest ;  where  there  is  a  good  stock  introducing  them  to 
heat  successively  to  keep  up  a  longer  display. .  They  will  require 
from  six  to  eight  weeks  to  come  into  flower,  but  by  keeping 
quite  cool  and  dry  last  a  long  time  in  good  condition.  By  this 
means  I  have  had  them  as  late  as  May  for  exhibiting,  but  this  is 
not  conducive  to  the  continued  health  of  the  plants,  they  not  having 
time  to  get  thoroughly  ripe  again  before  the  winter, — H.  R.  R. 
FLORAL  FACTS  AND  FANCIES.— 24. 
The  world  is  full  of  music  to  those  who  have  an  appreciative 
ear,  and  one  advantage  of  Nature’s  melodies  is  that  they  cost  us 
nothing.  Something  may  be  said  in  favour  of  sounds  that  might 
appear  harsh  or  unmusical  if  it  were  not  for  their  surroundings, 
which  make  them  agreeable.  People  have  laughed  at  Cowper, 
because  he  said  in  one  of  his  letters  that,  though  he  would  not 
think  of  hanging  up  a  goose  in  a  cage  to  hear  it  at  home,  yet  a 
goose  upon  a  common  was  not  a  bad  performer,  but  we  may  allow 
there  is  truth  in  the  poet’s  remark.  Again,  amongst  the  sounds 
produced  by  the  vegetable  world  the  creaking  of  the  trees  in  a 
wood  during  autumn  winds  is  not  unpleasing,  yet  within  a  confined 
space  this  would  very  soon  be  annoying.  When  much  of  Ergland 
was  fen  and  marsh  it  is  probable  our  forefathers,  even  if  semi¬ 
savages,  were  not  unmoved  by  the  murmurs  of  Reeds  and  Rushes, 
that  of  the  former  especially  so  common  as  an  edging  of 
streamlets — 
“The  Reed  with  its  ringlets  of  waving  brown, 
Which  age  into  locks  of  grey  silky  down, 
Whose  shafts  ever  sing  to  the  softest  sigh. 
And  bend  to  each  breeze  as  it  hurries  by.” 
From  a  far  distant  period  the  Reed  has  been  a  symbol  of 
“  music.”  One  of  the  earliest  instruments  of  the  rustic  performer 
was  made  from  the  stalk  of  some  Reed — the  primitive  flute  or  pipe, 
sometimes  also  called  “  organ.”  The  old  Greek  legend  connects  the 
plant  with  Pan,  the  rural  divinity,  and  Syrinx,  who,  to  escape  the 
too  affectionate  god,  leaped  into  a  river,  and  was  there  transformed 
into  a  Reed.  The  music  of  it  became  a  sound  of  mournful  reproach 
to  Pan,  but  he  was  prompted  to  fashion  a  pipe  out  of  the  stem. 
Such  is  the  legend  which  seem*  to  refer  to  the  tall  Arundo  phrag- 
mites,  once  much  in  requisition  for  thatching.  Gerard  tells  us  that 
he  sought  in  vain  for  information  concerning  the  growth  of  the 
Cypress  Reed  (A.  donax),  a  foreign  specie#  he  wished  to  cultivate, 
and  which  was  used  in  Turkey  to  make  staves  carried  by  dignitaries, 
being  often  much  ornamented.  A  conspicuous  member  of  an  allied 
family,  the  Reed  Mace  (Typha  latifolia),  which  can  make  its  8  feet 
of  height,  has  served  not  only  as  a  symbol  of  authority  but  also  as 
a  rod,  and  Loudon  states  that  several  Italian  painters  have  drawn 
this  Reed  in  their  pictures,  supposing  it  to  be  the  one  presented  to 
the  Saviour  of  men.  Hence  its  brown  velvety  catkins  became 
symbols  of  “  insult.”  On  the  Continent  and  elsewhere  pillows  are 
stuffed  with  their  down.  Nearly  every  land  exhibits  this  plant, 
which  is  abundant  even  on  the  swamps  of  New  Zealand.  At  one 
time  the  Spitalfields  weavers  uied  the  heads  for  brushing  silk  and 
velvet. 
Placed  now  in  a  separate  genus  from  the  other  Reeds,  Ammo- 
phila  arundinacea,  by  its  straw  coloured  panicle  of  flowers  crowded 
into  a  sort  of  spike,  reminds  us  of  “  security,”  through  the  function 
it  fulfils,  which  is  one  highly  useful.  This  is  the  Sea  or  Mat  Reed, 
which  also  has  the  obscure  name  of  Marram,  and  by  its  network 
of  creeping  jointed  roots  forms  banks  along  the  shore,  which 
prevent  the  ocean  from  encroaching  on  the  land,  while,  by  binding 
the  sand  together,  it  keeps  that  in  its  marginal  position.  Its  stem 
is  rigid,  smooth,  almost  solid,  and  the  involute  bluish  leaves  are 
sharp  pointed.  A  similar  service  is  rendered  mankind  by  some  of 
the  Lyme  Grasses,  which  have  great  power  in  resisting  the  force  of 
the  sea.  Elymus  arenarius  is  tall,  and  has  long  leaves,  but  it  seldom 
flowers  on  our  coasts.  The  rarer  Pendulous  Lyme  Grass  has  been 
grown  in  gardens,  this  is  E.  geniculatus,  a  slender  elegant  plant, 
with  a  spike  sometimes  2  feet  long,  which  takes  a  bend  at  a  sharp 
angle  after  the  expansion  of  the  florets.  Some  of  the  Fescues  also 
help  to  bind  together  sandy  banks,  as,  for  instance,  Festuca  rubra, 
the  creeping  roots  of  which  extend  for  yards.  Formerly  people 
thought  the  shorter  Fescue  Grasses  were  excellent  food  for  sheep. 
The  name  was  suggested  by  the  wiriness  of  the  stem,  and  few 
Grasses  stand  cold  better  than  these. 
Symbolic  of  “  skill,”  or,  as  others  say,  of  “  war,”  the  Arrowhead 
with  its  warlike  name  of  Sagittaria  sagittifolia  is  a  beautiful  plant, 
noticeable  along  tome  English  rivers.  The  flowers  are  in  spikes  ; 
each  bloisom  has  three  petals  of  brilliant  white,  each  having  a  spot 
of  purple  or  violet.  It  was,  however,  the  leaves  that  suggested  its 
name  :  the»e  grow  in  masies,  springing  from  the  root,  and  are 
shaped  like  the  head  of  an  arrow.  Attached  to  the  roots  are  tubers, 
containing  starch,  but  also  acrid  matter,  which  may  be  removed  by 
washing  ;  at  one  time  they  were  believed  to  contain  a  cure  for 
hydrophobia.  Allied  to  this  plant  are  the  Arrow  Grasses  of  the 
genus  Triglocbin  ;  they  have  mostly  narrow  leaves  and  a  talliih 
spike  of  green  flowers.  So  are  the  Water  Plantains  fond  of  ponds 
and  lakes.  The  common  Alisma  plantago  has  large  leaves,  oval,  of 
a  delicate  green,  with  flowers  of  rose  or  lilac,  the  panicles  being 
much  divided  ;  the  petals  are  three,  falling  off  so  rapidly  that  the 
plant  seldom  makes  a  good  display.  Some  people  say  this  is  the 
“  plantage  ”  mentioned  by  Shakespeare  in  the  following  line,  “  As 
true  as  steel,  as  plantage  to  the  moon.”  Hence  the  plant  is 
regarded  as  one  of  the  emblems  of  truth.  The  idea  seems  to  have 
been  that  the  Water  Plantain,  like  some  other  species,  turned  its 
flowers  so  that  they  should  follow  the  course  of  the  moon,  jnst  as 
the  Sunflowers  were  supposed  to  move  towards  the  sun.  Perhaps 
it  was  from  this  notion  that  in  popular  belief  the  plant  was  much 
esteemed  as  a  wound  herb  ;  no  doubt  it  is  slightly  astringent. 
Curious  is  the  starry-headed  Water  Plantain  (A.  damasonium), 
having  its  white  flowers  in  clusters  ;  the  capsules  take  the  form  of 
a  star. 
We  cannot  see  exactly  why  the  flower  of  the  Branched  Bur- 
reed  (Sparganium  ramosum)  should  represent  “  rudeness the 
significance  of  the  popular  name  is  evident,  for  when  in  bloom  the 
plant  looks  as  if  it  were  covered  with  yellow  feathery  balls  ;  these 
are  succeeded  by  brownish  capsules,  like  miniature  Apples.  The 
unbranched  S.  simplex  has  fewer  flowers,  but  they  are  larger  and 
also  more  feathery.  The  Bulrush  (Scirpus  lacustris)  is  said  to 
remind  u#  of  “indiscretion,”  and  I  presume  so  do  its  relatives,  for 
it  was  to  the  Rushes  that  the  unwise  individual  of  olden  time, 
bursting  with  his  secret,  went  and  whispered  the  fact  that  his  king 
had  ass’s  ears,  and,  according  to  the  legend,  was  surprised  to  hear 
the  plants  proclaiming  it  to  everybody  who  came  near.  This 
resembles  rather  an  overgrown  Grass  with  its  brown  soft  spikes, 
being  often  6  feet  high.  Frequently  it  has  for  its  companion  in 
the  marshes  the  shorter  Juncus  conglomeratus,  having  a  dense 
head  of  flowers  issuing  from  the  side  of  the  stalk,  nsed  in  the 
Tudor  times  for  strewing  floors,  and  also  for  candles  when  dipped 
in  fat.  Still  shorter  is  the  Moss  Rush,  oddly  called  Goose  Corn 
(J.  squarroaus),  which  ha*  only  a  few  large  flowers  on  its  panicle  ; 
it  used  to  be  very  common  on  heaths  near  London.  Apparently 
the  Toad  Rush  (J.  bufonius)  got  its  name  from  a  fancied  resem¬ 
blance  the  capsule  has  to  the  shape  of  a  toad.  But  the  monarch  of 
the  Rushes  is  the  stately  Butomus  umbellatu*,  which  has  three 
sepals  and  three  petals  of  red,  also  nine  stamens,  symbolic  of 
“  confidence  in  Heaven,”  it  is  said.  The  leaves  are  handsome,  too  ; 
but  their  sharp  edges,  handled  unwarily,  will  wound  like  a  strip  of 
thin  glass. 
Eastern  sages  and  teachers,  in  remote  ages,  took  the  fragile 
flowers  of  the  Grass  tribe  a3  an  emblem  of  the  brevity  or  uncer¬ 
tainty  of  hnman  life,  but,  besides  that,  Grass  generally  is  a  repre¬ 
sentative  of  “  usefulness.”  Special  meanings  have  been  attached 
to  the  flowers  of  some  kinds.  The  flowers  of  the  Foxtails  in  the 
