176 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER 
August  20,  1896. 
Llandudno  Junction  ;  but  still  we  went  on  past  Conway,  obtaining  a 
glimpse  of  its  castle,  and  next  the  lofty  Penmaenmawr  to  a  station  just 
beyond,  the  name  of  which  is  more  easy  to  write  than  pronounce — at 
least  by  an  ordinary  Englishman,  but  to  the  guide  a  precious  morsel 
rolled  over  the  tongue  with  a  click  and  a  clan  in  the  to  him  euphonious 
Llanfairfechan. 
Llanfairfechan  appears  to  be  about  midway  between  Llandudno  and 
Bangor,  both  of  which  are  visible  in  the  distance,  with  Anglesea  more 
clearly  still  a  dozen  miles  or  less  across  the  water,  which  separates  it 
from  the  mainland.  A  quiet  restful  place  is  this  charming  Welsh  nook, 
which  recedes  from  the  coast,  and  is  studded  with  substantial  residences 
here  and  there,  many  of  them  as  if  embowered  amongst  the  trees,  that 
seem  to  grow  with  unwonted  luxuriance  ;  while  behind  them  all  are  the 
everlasting  hills,  with  clouds  as  if  playing  hide  and  seek  around  their 
lofty  summits. 
The  Welshman  was  happy,  as  well  he  might  be,  in  this  salubrious  spot 
between  the  mountains  and  the  sea,  while  the  stranger  was  delighted. 
Both  were  soon  at  home,  for  in  a  roadside  inn  was  found  as  host  a  once 
worthy  gardener,  also  then  and  now  most  worthy  man,  Moses  Williams, 
who  has  in  his  time  placed  many  another  good  man  in  the  second 
position  at  shows  both  in  Wales  and  England.  Moses,  when  he  found 
out  who  his  callers  were,  was  quick  to  offer  hospitality.  As  if  this  were 
not  enough  to  satisfy  the  sojourners  and  make  them  wish  to  stay,  was 
found  strolling  near  the  beach  a  gentleman  still  more  widely  known  in 
the  horticultural  world,  Mr.  Robert  Tait,  the  head  of  the  great  Man¬ 
chester  seed  house,  Dickson,  Brown  &  Tait — a  greater  business  than 
many  persona  comprehend — who  sought  for  health  on  this  fair  coast 
some  years  ago,  found  it,  and  built  himself  a  villa  in  sequestered  Llan¬ 
fairfechan.  Fuchsias  peep  over  the  wall  of  the  garden,  which  is  entered 
through  the  Laburnum  and  Clematis  arch,  while  in  the  borders  are 
found  bright  bushes  of  two-year-old  “Geraniums,”  that  not  uncommonly 
pass  the  winter  there  without  the  least  protection ;  while  Figs  ripen 
their  fruits  on  open  bushes,  thus  indicating  a  favoured  clime. 
But  with  all  its  rural  attractions  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  this 
marine  resort  is  beyond  the  bounds  of  civilisation.  Very  far  indeed  is 
such  from  being  the  case.  For  of  excellent  hotels  there  is  good  choice, 
and  we  should  have  to  travel  far  to  find  one  more  sweet  and  clean,  more 
home-like  and  enjoyable  than  the  Queen’s,  as  conducted  by  Mr.  Ayland. 
There  were  found  good  refuge,  good  company,  and  good  things,  such  as 
to  make  one  wish  to  longer  stay,  and  desire  to  return  again.  But  with 
such  scenery  around,  and  a  sight  of  the  woods  of  Penrhyn  not  many 
miles  away,  and  ancient  Beaumaris  nestling  over  the  water,  with  a 
delightful  day  and  a  vivifying  atmosphere,  there  was  no  disposition 
to  rest  even  at  the  Queen’s,  Mr,  Tait’s  cosy  marine  villa,  or  in  pretty 
Llanfairfechan,  and  Mr.  Ayland’s  carriage  and  pair  were  soon  in 
requisition. 
To  Beaumaris  for  lunch  was  the  first  objective,  but  though  this  was 
only  seven  miles  as  the  gulls  fly,  it  was  necessary  to  go  fifteen  miles 
round  to  reach  it ;  and  a  pleasant  necessity  too,  for  a  drive  along  the 
foot  of  the  mountains,  with  luxuriant  growth  flanking  the  road  and 
clothing  the  banks ;  splendid  fields  of  Tait’s  Best  of  All  Swedes,  and 
gardens  full  of  produce,  with  rich  tree-clad  slopes  on, the  left,  and  the 
glistening  sea  on  the  right,  and  trains  rushing  along  its  margin — all  was 
so  different  to  the  scant  brown  herbage  which  had  so  long  prevailed  in 
the  arid  South  that  the  drive  was  a  feast  richly  enjoyed. 
Skirting  Penrhyn  through  a  veritable  tunnel  of  foliage,  and  glancing 
at  the  charming  model  village  near  the  noble  entrance,  we  were  soon  in 
long,  prosperous  looking  Bangor.  Glancing  across  the  Straits  are  seen 
dotted  among  the  wooded  slopes  the  Welsh  homes  of  many  Manchester 
merchants ;  but  to  reach  them  we  have  to  cross  the  gorge  by  the 
wonderful  Menai  suspension  bridge,  that  hangs  like  a  gigantic  spider’s 
web  high  above  the  water  not  far  from  Stephenson’s  triumph,  the  great 
tubular  bridge,  which  is  literally  the  high  road  (for  trains)  to  Holyhead 
for  Ireland,  Over  the  bridge  an  hour’s  drive  took  us  to  Beaumaris,  a 
quiet  looking  old-world  town,  of  which  the  most  interesting  feature 
seems  to  be  the  Ivy-clad  ruins  of  what  must  once  have  been  a  ponderous 
castle. 
A  little  rest,  then  back  again  to  Bangor,  to  meet  the  train  from 
Liverpool,  and  greet  that  fine  old  gardener  Mr.  W.  Speed,  of  Penrhyn  ; 
and  as  gardeners  often  run  in  pairs,  so  it  was  on  this  occasion,  for  with 
him  was  a  former  pupil — Mr.  McKellar,  of  Sandringham.  The  Penrhyn 
estate  runs  up  to  the  town,  and  we  were  soon  within  its  large  and 
splendidly  timbered  park,  which  Mr.  Speed  has  done  so  much  to 
beautify  by  the  planting  of  Ferns,  shrubs,  and  trees  ;  also  opening  out 
beautiful  vistas.  The  castle  is  a  massive  pile  of  enormous  extent,  a 
large  portion  of  the  walls  of  which  Mr.  Speed  has  covered  with  creepers 
of  various  kinds.  This  has  been  no  light  task,  for  the  building  is 
surrounded  by  a  width  of  some  8  feet  of  concrete,  for  the  purpose  of 
keeping  it  dry.  Difficulties  are,  however,  only  regarded  as  tit-bits  by 
earnest  men,  who  conceive  it  to  be  their  duty,  as  it  is  their  pleasure,  to 
overcome  them.  The  creepers,  therefore,  were  planted  in  the  lawn  by 
which  the  building  is  surrounded,  taken  through  the  concrete  in  pipes 
until  the  walls  were  reached.  Here  Ampelopsis  Veitchi  seems  very 
much  at  home,  colouring  beautifully,  and  Mr.  Speed  points  out  the 
difference  between  it  and  A.  Roy  lei,  which  is  very  fine  indeed.  In 
angles  he  has  contrived  boxes  for  shrubs  and  bright  flowers,  to  relieve 
the  sombreness  of  the  huge  pile  ;  and  in  one  corner  was  observed  a 
remarkably  healthy  specimen  of  Bambusa  falcata.  There  is  a 
salubrious  climate  at  Penrhyn,  as  is  apparent  when  we  enter  the 
gardens. 
The  flower  garden  is  a  delightful  resort,  partially  enclosed  by  walls. 
It  is  not  large,  but  unconventional,  interesting  and  beautiful.  Parallel 
with  one  of  the  walls  and  conservatory,  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
terrace  walk,  are  festoons  on  chains  of  Clematis  Jackmanni  and  Canary 
Creepers  in  quite  extraordinary  luxuriance,  producing  a  charming  effect; 
On  this  terrace  a  little  bedding  out  is  done,  small  beds  being  a  glow  of 
colour  with  the  crimson  semperflorens  Begonia  known  as  Lemoinei, 
Vernoni,  and  Crimson  Gem.  These  beds  are  a  sparkling  mass  of 
luxuriant  growth,  the  result  of  rich  soil  and  abundance  of  water. 
Another  long  but  informal  arrangement  of  flowers  in  box  panels  is 
effectively  displayed  on  the  terrace.  From  it  the  lawn  slopes  westward, 
terminating  in  a  dell-like  border  with  a  fine  background  of  trees.  In 
this  border  Bamboos,  Eulalias,  Liliums,  and  various  other  plants  flourish 
in  a  manner  that  evokes  exclamations  of  surprise.  To  the  query  “  What 
is  the  secret  of  it  all,  Mr.  Speed  ?  ”  came  the  prompt  reply — a  real 
gardener’s  answer — “  Well,  not  a  bad  climate,  plenty  of  muck  and  plenty 
of  water.  If  you  want  to  make  things  grow,  make  the  soil  rich,  and 
let  the  hose  run  all  night ;  it’s  of  no  use  dribbling.”  The  informal  beds 
on  the  lawn  are  occupied  much  in  the  same  way,  brightened  with  yellow 
Marguerites,  while  grouped  here  and  there  in  the  grass  are  Bamboos, 
Palms,  Griselinias,  and  other  plants  of  a  semi-tropical  nature. 
Magnificent  bushes  of  Fuchsia  Riccartoni  are  a  prominent  feature 
of  the  lawn,  but  they  are  nothing  like  what  they  were  before  the  severe 
“  February  frost”  that  many  gardeners  remember  so  well.  Prior  to  that 
ordeal  they  were  trees  that  met  over  a  large  arch  from  which  myriads  of 
flowers  hung,  forming  a  canopy  of  scarlet  and  purple — a  sight  such  as 
could  scarcely  be  seen  elsewhere.  That  cruel  frost  cut  the  Fuchsias 
down  to  the  ground,  yet  in  two  seasons  the  bushes  are  about  8  feet  high 
and  through,  with  foliage  of  the  deepest  green  and  every  branchlet 
wreathed  with  flowers.  Waggonloads  of  flowering  branches  could  be 
cut,  and  these  Fuchsias  should  be  cherished  as  a  rich  possession. 
We  turn  to  the  walls,  as  everybody  must  when  he  sees  huge  Myrtles 
like  sheets  of  white  flowers,  the  plants  as  thickly  covered  with  blossoms 
as  are  the  most  densely  laden  Hawthorn  trees  in  May.  In  contrast  are 
brilliant  Pomegranates,  Rhododendron  Lady  Alice  Fitz william  in  such 
health  as  is  never  seen  in  pots,  and  every  tip  containing  its  bud  j 
Chiosya  ternata,  covering  an  enormous  area,  surely  the  finest  plant  in 
Britain  ;  Lapageria  rosea  in  a  shaded  place  ;  and  also  in  the  shade,  not 
on  walls,  fine  specimen  Camellias.  These  are  but  a  few  out  of  many 
things  that  deserve  mention,  but  memory  is  treacherous,  and  note-taking 
was  out  of  the  question  during  the  quick  march  round. 
We  passed  through  the  kitchen  gardens  with  their  bright  borders  of 
flowers,  luxuriant  vegetables,  and  abundant  crops  of  fruit,  but  these  did 
not  more  impress  than  the  remarkable  cleanliness,  splendid  order,  and 
systematic  work  that  was  apparent  on  every  hand.  Also  we  “  ran 
through  the  houses  ” — not  very  extensive,  but  their  contents  bearing  the 
stamp  of  a  master  mind,  as  well  as  evidence  of  efficient  colleagues  in 
executing  the  work  in  all  departments. 
There  is  a  range  of  capacious  vineries  with  Vines  in  them  the  reverse 
of  young  as  counted  by  years,  as  they  were  planted  in  1844,  but  for 
vigour  of  growth,  leafage,  and  Grapes  appear  as  if  rising  into  man¬ 
hood.  The  secret  of  their  condition  is  that  the  roots  are  young  and 
evidently  find  what  is  needed.  They  are  in  inside  and  outside  borders 
which  have  been  renewed  alternately,  and  hence  the  fine  fruit  that  is 
borne  by  these  more  than  half  century  old  Vines.  Mr.  Speed  is  a 
utilitarian.  He  seeks  for  healthy  growth  and  excellent  fruit,  not  for 
straight,  trim,  polished  rode.  The  nerves  of  some  men  would  be  shocked 
by  the  spurs  on  the  older  Vines,  for  they  are  6  feet  long,  trained  up  to 
the  main  rods,  the  whole  forming  a  sort  of  bundle,  but  there  is  no 
crowding  of  the  foliage,  or  there  would  be  no  such  crops  of  Grapes, 
Muscats  being  especially  fine.  Several  varieties  are  grown  from  the 
ancient  and  indispensable  Black  Hamburgh  to  the  modern  Appley 
Towers  and  Lady  Hutt.  They  would  seem  as  if  pruned  on  the  principle 
of  choosing  the  best  buds  for  bearing,  after  the  manner  of  the  once 
famous  grower,  Mr.  Henderson,  who  made  Cole  Orton  famous  for  its 
Grapes  a  generation  ago. 
Peaches  are  grown  in  the  same  satisfactory  manner,  huge  trees  full 
of  youthful  vigour,  with  deep  green,  scrupulously  clean  foliage  and 
splendid  fruits.  Two  Fig  trees  are  on  the  back  wall,  the  other  on  a  low 
arched  front  trellis,  fill  every  inch  of  the  allotted  space  in  a  house  60  feet 
long,  and  bear  enormously. 
As  in  many  other  establishments  no  great  variety  of  plants  is  grown 
under  glass,  but  only  a  few  kinds  of  such  as  are  needed  for  decorative 
purposes,  and  these  in  goodly  numbers.  Calanthes  are  in  wonderful 
vigour,  the  pseudo-bulbs  being  such  as  are  not  commonly  seen,  while 
Chrysanthemums,  both  in  bush  and  single  stem  form,  would  gladden  the 
heart  of  an  enthusiast. 
After  a  rest  in  Mr.  Speed’s  pleasant  home,  we  drive  through  the 
park  in  which  he  has  established  Brackens  and  other  Ferns,  gathered 
from  the  mountain  sides,  and  grouped  them  as  if  they  were  indigenous 
to  their  positions.  There  appear  to  be  acres  of  them,  and  they  repre¬ 
sent  what  can  be  done  by  good  taste  and  persevering  industry  over  a 
series  of  years.  For  thirty-five  years  Mr.  Speed  has  lived  and  loved  and 
laboured  at  Penrhyn.  He  has  worked  in  a  good  climate  and  good  soil, 
making  the  best  of  both,  and  the  result  may  be  summed  up  in  a  sentence 
— a  splendid  garden  splendidly  managed. 
The  visit  was  a  treat,  and  not  the  least  gratifying  part  of  it  was  in 
seeing  a  gardener  who  has  worked  so  long  and  so  well,  as  active, 
physically  and  mentally  as  a  youth ;  at  least,  if  he  were  much  more  alert 
in  his  early  days  than  now,  he  would  be  something  of  a  phenomenon. 
Thanks  are  tendered  to  him  for  his  courtesy  and  kindness,  and  not  less 
sincerely  to  Mr.  Tait,  without  whose  good  heart  and  guidance  so  much 
could  not  have  Iteen  seen  and  enjoyed  during  this  stolen  trip  into  Wales, 
and  memorable  sojourn  at  salubrious  Llanfairfechan. — The  Steangbr, 
