July  30,  1896. 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER, 
101 
It  survived  some  few  years  of  Her  Majesty’s  reign.  Gibbs’  nursery 
of  6  acres,  adjacent  to  Harrison’s,  was  of  more  recent  date  ; 
possibly  Faulkner  understates  its  size,  for  part  of  it  was  devoted 
to  flowers,  ornamental  shrubs  and  fruit  trees.  One  of  the 
notable  features  of  his  garden  was  an  exhibition  ground,  divided 
into  about  800  small  plots,  containing  samples  of  every  kind  of 
vegetable  serving  as  food  for  man  or  animals,  also  all  the  useful 
varieties  of  cereals  and  grasses.  There  were  large  seed  warehouses 
in  addition,  a  large  trade  being  done  in  all  sorts  of  seeds. 
The  nursery  of  Kirke  was  situate  in  Gore  Lane,  and  this  had 
nearly  completed  its  century  when  Faulkner  wrote  about  Brompton. 
The  ground  was  no  doubt  part  of  Brompton  Park,  and  the  16  acres 
were  principally  devoted  to  fruit  growing.  Large  quantities  of 
Grapes  were  produced  ;  of  Apple*  Kirke  showed  one  year  above 
a  hundred  kinds,  and  he  had  many  varieties  of  Pears  and  Plums. 
Another  bit  of  the  old  park  was  taken  by  a  German 
gardener,  named  Hyam.  ThU  edged  the  Gloucester  Road, 
which  took  its  name  from  the  fact  that  upon  the  ground 
which  had  been  in  the  occupation  of  Hyam,  the  Duchess 
of  Gloucester  built  herself  a  residence,  which,  after  the 
decease  of  her  daughter,  had  for  occupant  the  statesman 
Canning.  Hyam,  who  is  laid  to  have  introduced  a  Cherry 
called  the  Grafton,  formerly  a  favourite,  was  a  successful 
grower  of  flowers  and  fruit.  He  had  so  many  visitors 
that  he  obtained  a  licence,  and  opened  his  place  as  a  public 
resort  under  the  title  of  the  Florida  Gardens,  but  it  ended 
in  failure,  and  he  departed. 
Upon  the  expanse  called  Brompton  Heath,  early  in  the 
present  century,  Pamphlin  and  Shailer  had  each  a  few 
acres  of  nursery  ground.  This  heath,  originally,  was  a 
portion  of  a  considerable  extent  of  common  or  waste 
land,  interspersed  with  ponds,  which  was  dotted  with 
Heath  and  Furze,  extending  northward,  in  an  irregular 
strip,  almost  from  the  spot  where  Buckingham  Palace 
stands  to  Old  Brompton.  Other  portions  of  it  were 
known  as  the  Five  Fields  and  Chelsea  Common.  It  is 
observable  that  even  now,  within  gardens  lituate  upon 
what  was  Brompton  Heath,  some  of  the  old  Heath  plants 
crop  up  if  the  ground  is  neglected. 
The  higher  land  of  Brompton  Park  seventy  years  ago 
overlooked  to  sooth  and  west  a  Brompton  that  had  only 
a  few  loattered  houses,  surrounded  by  market  gardens  and 
orchards.  These  extended  beyond  Earl’s  Court  to  the 
creek  flowing  from  Keniington  to  the  Thames,  In  1820 
the  Hutchins  family,  historic  as  Chelsea  farmers  and 
gardeners  for  centuries,  had  the  manor  house  of  Earl’s 
Court,  which  had  been  rebuilt,  the  old  mansion  having  been 
'  removed  thirty  years  before.  They  had  about  220  acres 
cultivation  in  and  around  Brompton  ;  subsequently  Gunter,  who 
had  comrnenced  gardening  with  some  GO  acres,  took  over  the  greater 
part  of  Hutchins’  land  and  the  manor  house,  and  erected  numerous 
forcing  homes  and  pineries  ;  he  was  one  of  the  earliest  to  employ 
steam  as  a  source  of  heat.  This  was  the  founder  of  the  well- 
known  confectioner’s  business  in  Berkeley  Square,  and  a  man  of 
much  benevolence  of  character.  His  son.  Col.  Gunter,  sold  or 
leased  most  of  the  land.  Amongst  other  notables  here  we  recall 
Attwood,  Street,  Debnam,  and  Poupart  ai  exteniive  growers  for 
the  London  markets  till  Victorian  times.  Poupart  was  the  last 
proprietor  of  an  old  nursery  near  the  creek,  east  of  Honey  (properly 
Holland  Lane),  which  had  been  the  property  of  the  Pettiwads  for 
,  150  years  or  more.  — J.  R.  S.  C. 
ROUND  ABOUT  SHIRLEY. 
“  Return  to  Shirley,  please,”  said  an  individual  standing 
amongst  a  bustling  crowd  of  passengers  in  the  booking  office  at 
London  Bridge  Station  the  other  day.  “  Can’t  book  you  there,  sir  ; 
there’s  no  station,”  replied  the  clerk  promptly,  “  Move  on,  sir  ; 
next,  please.” 
Somewhat  astounded,  further  inquiriei  were  made  resulting  in 
the  information  that,  though  situated  within  a  few  miles  of  the 
metropolis,  the  iron  king  has  not  yet  penetrated  hii  way  within  the 
precincts  of  the  quiet  little  village.  To  the  Londoner,  who  thinks 
the  railway  train  will  take  him  anywhere,  this  is  even  more 
surprising  ;  indeed,  it  was  in  our  case,  as  after  studying  time-tables 
and  questioning  officials,  we  boarded  the  train,  and  in  a  short  time 
we  found  ourielves  as  near  Shirley  as  we  could  get — by  train.  As 
under 
s 
Cypripedium  Sciiofieldianum. 
At  one  of  the  meetings  of  the  Royal  Horticultural  Society  held 
at  the  Drill  Hall  in  the  spring  of  the  present  year,  G.  W.  Schofield, 
Esq,,  Rawksfield,  staged  a  Cypripedium  named  Schofieldianum 
(fig.  19),  and  which  attracted  considerable  attention.  The 
bandiome  flower  had  broad  substantial  petals,  of  which  the  ground 
colour  was  creamy  white,  the  whole  surface  of  them,  however, 
being  ipotted  with  rich  reddish  brown.  The  dorsal  sepal  was 
greeniih  white  spotted  with  purple,  while  the  pouch  was  purple 
brown  shading  to  greenish  white.  The  parents  of  this  Orchid  are 
said  to  be  C.  hirsutissimum  and  C.  bellatulum.  The  Orchid 
Committee  gave  it  an  award  of  merit. 
FIG.  19.— cypripedium  SCHOFIELDIANUM, 
I  said  before,  we  were  surprised,  with  an  astonishment,  however, 
free  from  regret,  as  from  the  information  gained  hopes  were  enter¬ 
tained  of  finding  in  Shirley  a  village  distinctly  rural.  “  Nothing 
difficult  about  that,”  some  may  say.  Perhaps  not  in  the  province*, 
but  Londoners,  alive  to  the  advantages  of  the  country,  have  made 
their  homes  in  the  adjoining  villages,  and  noticing  the  tendency 
speculative  builders  have  gone  to,  and  long  lines  of  trim  villas  have 
taken  the  place  of  straggling  village  streets.  Alive  to  business, 
railway  companies  have  laid  the  connecting  lines,  with  the  result 
that  many  places  that  were  once  villages  are  now  towns,  and  others 
which  have  not  risen  to  that  dignity  have  been  so  transformed 
that  the  ancient  is  now  insignificant  among  so  much  that  is  modern. 
Shirley,  however,  is  an  exception,  and  the  greatest  difficulty  a 
stranger  meets  with  is  to  know  where  it  begins  and  where  it  end*. 
There  is  a  wayside  inn  with  a  small  general  shop  and  a  few  cottages. 
This,  you  think,  is  the  village,  and  are  surprised  to  find  a  similar 
portion  half  a  mile  further  on.  Close  as  it  is  there  is  little  to 
remind  one  of  London,  except,  perhaps,  it  is  the  large  number  of 
holiday  makers  who  penetrate  the  seclusion  of  the  village. 
Alighting  at  the  little  station  Woodside,  rightly  named  from  its 
timbered  surroundings,  and  passing  on  to  the  highway  we  quickly 
found  something  congenial  to  the  tastes  of  a  horticulturist  in  the 
small  front  gardens  by  the  roadside.  There  was  nothing 
particularly  inviting  about  the  architecture  of  the  cottage*, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  primitive  looking  wooden  structure*  with 
slate  roofs,  only  a  single  storey  high,  with  tiny  windows  looking 
out  on  to  the  road  ;  but  the  little  patches  of  ground  in  front  are 
a  picture,  and  indeed  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  bedding  displayed 
to  better  advantage,  even  in  large  gardens  where  every  requisite  i* 
to  hand. 
Here  was  a  diminutive  garden  gay  with  annuals.  Stocks  being 
chiefly  conspicuous.  In  the  next  little  beds  had  been  neatly  edged 
with  shells,  and  the  garden  was  fairly  aglow  with  Pelargoniums, 
Fuchsia*,  Lobelias,  and  such  like.  Never  have  I  seen  finer  trusse* 
of  that  handsome  bedder  Henry  Jacoby,  or  plants  generally  in  a 
more  healthy  condition .  Canary  Creepers  rambled  round  the  door- 
1  ways,  and  flowers  almost  hid  the  little  windows.  Truly  a  credit  to 
