506 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
June  10,  1897. 
HER  MAJESTY’S  DIAMOND  JUBILEE  AND 
THE  “JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE.” 
In  celebration  of  the  great  historical  event,  now  approaching,  it  has 
been  decided  to  publish  an  enlarged  issue  of  this  Journal  on  the 
24th  inst.  It  will  be  devoted  to  a  fuller  description  of  the  gardens  of 
the  Queen  than  has  yet  appeared,  together  with  a  general  survey  of 
horticulture,  in  the  form  of  interesting  reminiscences  during  a  period  of 
sixty  years,  by  the  Rev.  H.  H.  D’Ombrain. 
For  the  purpose  of  this  issue  her  Majesty  has  been  graciously 
pleased  to  grant  to  the  Editor  unrestricted  permission  to  illustrate  and 
describe  the  Queen’s  beautiful  private  gardens  at  Frogmore  House,  and 
to  enumerate  the  unequalled  collection  of  Royal  memorial  trees  therein, 
the  first  time,  we  believe,  that  this  privilege  has  been  accorded. 
In  addition,  the  past  history  and  the  present  condition  of  the 
gardens  at  Windsor  Castle,  the  slopes,  and  Adelaide  Cottage  garden 
will  receive  adequate  attention,  while  descriptions  will  be  given  of  the 
great  supply  gardens  at  Frogmore,  Royal  Lodge  gardens,  the  noble  Vine 
at  Cumberland  Lodge,  the  Royal  pavilion  gardens  at  Virginia  Water 
and  Aldershot,  the  Hampton  Court  Vine  and  private  gardens — all  these 
being  under  the  direction  of  her  Majesty’s  head  gardener,  Mr.  Owen 
Thomas,  F.R.H.S.  At  the  same  time  will  appear  illustrated  descriptions 
of  the  Royal  gardens,  Buckingham  Palace,  Osborne,  and  Balmoral  ; 
also,  by  direct  sanction,  a  portrait  of  her  Majesty. 
We  have  reason  to  believe  that  such  an  issue,  for  which  (though  of 
necessity  costly)  no  extra  charge  will  be  made,  will  be  acceptable  to 
our  readers  as  a  memento  of  a  happy  and  unique  event.  We  make  this 
notification  for  two  reasons. 
1,  The  possibility  of  the  matter  and  illustrations  occupying  the  whole 
space  at  disposal,  and  therefore  that  reports  of  shows  and  even  answers 
to  correspondents  may  have  to  stand  over. 
2,  To  give  notice  that  the  issue  will  have  to  be  prepared  a  week 
in  advance,  and  therefore  those  readers  who  desire  extra  copies  for 
preservation  or  presentation  to  friends  should  order  them  at  once,  either 
through  local  booksellers,  railway  bookstalls,  or  direct  from  the  office, 
171,  Fleet  Street,  E.C.,  to  prevent  disappointment,  which  we  desire 
to  avert. 
We  undertake  to  give  more  than  value  for  money,  and  fear  that 
unless  orders  for  extra  copies  are  given  before  the  17th  inst.  many 
applicants  will  be  too  late. 
STYRAX  OBASHA. 
This  is  known  to  few  except  botanists  and  those  who  have  made  a 
special  study  of  trees  and  shrubs.  It  is  said  to  be  a  native  of  the 
province  Senano  in  the  Island  of  Nippon,  The  leaves  when  of  full  size 
are  8  to  10  inches  in  diameter,  nearly  round  in  outline,  frequently 
irregularly  and  deeply  serrated  at  the  apical  margin,  of  a  light  soft 
green,  much  like  the  Catalpa.  The  tree  is  bushy  in  habit,  producing  its 
pure  white  flowers  in  racemes  6  to  8  inches  long,  the  petals  somewhat 
narrow  and  pointed,  as  shown  in  the  illustration.  The  leaves  depicted 
there,  however,  are  those  found  at  the  base  of  the  racemes  on  the  flower¬ 
ing  branches,  and  are  not  nearly  so  large  as  the  mature  leaves  lower 
down  the  branches.  It  has  proved  quite  hardy  in  a  southern  garden, 
where  it  stands  on  a  slope  moderately  sheltered  by  hedges. 
AN  ESCAPE  FROM  BABYLON. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ancient  Briton  (to  be  hereafter  referred  to  as 
A.  B.),  and  two  others  being  tired  of  town  life  for  the  time  being, 
decided  upon  an  escape  into  the  country.  Though  fond  of  gardening, 
and  more  or  less  associated  with  it,  they  had  had  enough,  again  for 
the  time  being,  especially  as  some  of  them,  at  least,  had  been  in 
one  way  or  another  officiating  at  the  Temple  Show  ;  in  what 
precise  way  it  is  not  necessary  to  particularise  ;  they  only  liked  to 
feel  they  had  been  “officiating,”  though  if  the  matter  were  probed 
to  the  bottom  it  might  possibly  have  resolved  itself  into  the  fact 
that  they  had  simply  been  there. 
z 
Well,  it  was  something  to  have  been  drawn  into  the  vortex  of 
the  fashionables,  and  almost  overwhelmed  with  the  wondrous 
beauty  of  the  Orchids  ;  the  pure  and  ruddy  charms  of  the  Roses  ; 
the  brilliancy  of  the  Begonias  ;  the  chaste  and  cheering  coloration 
of  the  Caladiums  ;  the  great  glistening  sea  of  Gloxinias  ;  the  spick 
and  span  and  sparkling  Streptocarpuses  ;  the  toothsome-lookiog, 
but  noli-me-tangere  Nectarines,  and  other  fruits ;  the  mouth¬ 
watering  Mushrooms  ;  the  potfuls  of  perky  Peas,  as  if  asking  to 
be  picked  ;  and  Potatoes  pressing  their  noses  against  the  windows 
of  the  boxes  in  which  they  are  confined,  as  if  to  say,  “  We  are  not 
to  be  sneezed  at yes,  it  was  something  to  have  been  there,  and 
bewildered — something  to  have  had  enough  of  everything  —  so 
much  indeed  as  to  make  us  wish,  if  not  cry,  for  a  change. 
“  What  a  glorious  art  is  gardening,”  remarked  Mr.  A.  B.  to  the 
Scribe  ;  “  what  would  the  world  be  without  it,  I  wonder  !  ”  “  Not 
the  bright  and  beautiful  world  it  is,  certainly,”  was  the  obvious 
reply  ;  “  but  all  the  same,  don’t  you  feel  these  shows  a  little — well, 
a  little  humiliating  ?  ”  The  response  came  hesitatingly,  but  as  it 
proved,  understandably,  “N — no.  I  can’t  say  I  exactly  feel  that  ;  on 
the  contrary  I  feel  rather  proud  of  them — proud  to  think  that  we,” 
a  very  slight  emphasis  on  the  “  we,” — “can  do  so  much.”  That  was 
a  natural  reflection  on  the  part  of  Mr.  A.  B.,  who  happened  to  be 
in  the  honour’s  list,  but  his  friend,  who  had  got  nothing,  was  the 
reverse  of  elated — in  fact  the  conceit  had  been  taken  out  of  him, 
as  competition  does  take  it  out  of  not  a  few,  who  when  leaving 
home  are  “sure  of  a  prize  if  the  judges  know  their  business.” 
Poor  “  S.”  felt  that  he  could  do  nothing  like  what  others  had  done, 
and  the  show  seemed  to  have  at  the  moment  lost  its  charms  for 
him,  and  he  seemed  (and  felt)  anxious  to  get  out  of  it. 
To  get  quite  away  from  it  was,  however,  another  thing  ;  but 
happily  the  fates  favoured,  for  Mr.  A.  B.,  “full”  of  his  glorious 
theme,  sententiously  remarked  that  the  “  world  without  gardening 
would  be  a  forest.”  Lucky  word,  a  “  forest.”  The  theme  was 
changed  in  a  breath,  the  exit  clear.  “  Ah.  my  dear  A.  B.,  do  you 
not  remember  how  happy  the  late  Lord  Beaconsfield  was  in  his 
own  ‘  green  retreats,’  in  which  he  said,  however  attractive  some 
other  things  were  for  a  time,  they  in  time  wearied,  but  that 
‘  sylvan  scenery  never  palled.’  You  must  know  that  Mr.  A.  B.  is 
perhaps  a  “  bit  of  a  Tory,”  though  it  is  hard  to  tell.  Suffice  that 
his  attention  was  caught,  and  that  gardens  were  for  the  moment 
left  behind.  It  was  clear  enough  he  wanted  to  sing,  but  he  couldn’t 
quite  remember  the  lines :  — 
“  In  the  days  of  old  when  forest  and  glade 
To  the  hunter’s  horn  were  free, 
And  the  merry  men  rode  through  brake  and  glen, 
To  meet  at  the  trysting  tree.” 
“  If  you  see  an  advantage  seize  it,  and  seize  it  promptly,”  is  a 
maxim  worth  remembering  ;  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  a  suggestion 
was  made  for  a  day  in  a  forest.  “  With  all  my  heart,”  was  the 
response  of  the  ardent  gardener,  “  but  what  forest?”  The  bow 
was  drawn  at  a  venture.  “  Have  you  been  to  Epping?”  A  good 
shot,  because  it  brought  down  a  “  No,  never.”  Then,  aside,  to 
Mrs.  A.  B  ,  “  What  do  you  say  to  a  day  in  Epping  Forest?” 
Promptly  came  the  reply,  “  Delighted  !  ”  “And  you,  Mrs.  S.  ?” 
“  Oh,  charmed  !  ”  Libel  the  ladies  as  you  will  on  their  loquacity, 
but  please  recognise  the  force  of  their  laconisms  in  settling  in  a 
moment  what  a  pair  of  gardeners  might  prose  over  for  half 
a  night.  _ 
It  so  happened  that  none  of  us  had  been  to  Epping,  and  the 
combined  knowledge  of  the  group  was  not  equal  to  a  solution  of 
the  problem  as  to  how  to  get  there,  or  rather,  as  to  the  station  to 
which  to  book  for  the  best.  The  Forest  was  thought  to  be  in  Essex, 
and  therefore  most  likely  to  be  reached  from  the  capacious  city 
terminus  of  the  Great  Eastern  Railway  in  Liverpool  Street.  But 
the  Forest  station  was  the  difficulty.  We  were  told  that  Woodford 
and  Cheshunt,  Buckhurst  Hill  and  TbeydoD,  Waltham  Cross  and 
Epping  were  on  the  borders.  But  as  horde’s  in  gardens  vary  from 
2  to  10  feet  or  more,  it  was  thought  they  might  vary  in  Nature  to 
as  many  miles,  and  so  a  decision  could  not  be  arrived  at.  “  What 
stupids  we  must  be,”  observed  one  of  the  four,  after  a  long  pause  ; 
“has  not  Mr.  George  Paul  a  place  in  the  Forest  ?”  The  problem 
was  solved,  and  forthwith  went  the  following  letter. 
“  Dear  Mr.  Paul, — Mr.  and  Mrs.  A.  B  ,  the  former  of  whom  you 
will  know  by  sight,  and  the  latter  is  worth  knowing,  are  with  self 
and  Mrs.  S.  consumed  with  a  desire  to  escape  from  Babylon  with 
all  its  crush  and  hurly-burly — the  hoisting  of  deals  and  the  noise 
of  hammers  in  fixing  up  tiers  of  Jubilee  seats  from  the  ground  to 
the  house  tops.  We  want  to  get  away  from  this,  if  only  for  a  little 
while,  and  spend  a  quiet  day  in  Epping  Forest ;  but  as  our 
geographical  ignorance  is  colossal,  the  favour  of  your  advice  as  to 
the  arrival  station  and  route  will  be  gratefully  appreciated.” 
Quickly  came  the  following  reply,  “  Dear  Mr.  Scribe, — Don’t  come 
to  any  of  the  stations  you  name,  but  book  to  Chingford  ;  trains 
from  Liverpool  Street  every  half  hour  ;  comfortable  barouches  to 
hold  four  await  all  trains.  1  am  staying  at  my  cottage  at  High 
Beech  for  a  fortnight  ;  drive  there — only  two  or  three  miles.  I 
will  show  you  the  pretty  features  round  the  Beeches,  and  point  out 
botanical  treasures,  going  with  you  as  far  as  what  we  call  the 
Drosera  field,  where  we  find  Lycopodium  inundatum  (Marsh  Club 
Moss),  and  then  I  could  direct  your  driver  to  Epping  and  Theydon 
