JOm}Ut  OP  BOnTtCULTORP  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
■  .  JJef/embet  li,  1898i 
flowers.  Mr.  Gumbleton  very  kindly  lent  me  flowers  of 
M.  Lemoine’s  new  Japan  Anemone,  named  Coupe  d’ Argent, 
Couronne  Virginale,  and  Beaute  Parfaite.  The  first  named  was 
introduced  before  the  others,  and  is  occasionally  offered  under  the 
name  of  “  Silver  Cup'’ — the  translation  of  its  French  name.  It  is 
a  very  beautiful  semi-double  flower,  with  a  great  many  petals 
surrounding  its  golden  centre,  these  petals  being  of  pure  white, 
with  the  exception  of  the  tinge  of  purple  towards  the  base  of  the 
outside  of  the  exterior  row  which  is  present  in  A.  j.  Honorine 
Jobert,  and  the  other  whites.  It  is  very  ^autifnl  indeed.  Couronne 
Virginale  is  also  semi-doable,  and,  I  think,  is  even  more  beautiful 
than  Coupe  d’ Argent.  It  is  of  a  charming  blush-white,  and.  one 
may  safely  say  is  the  best  of  the  trio. 
Beaute  Parfaite  has  a  name  which  should  denote  a  flower  of  the 
highest  type  of  all  that  is  most  beautiful  in  the  floral  race.  One 
would  think,  however,  that  it  had  been  named  before  Couronne 
Virginale  first  saw  the  light,  or  that  its  talented  raiser  has  a  slightly 
different  standard  from  that  of  the  writer.  Yet  one  cannot  feel 
dispoied  to  cavil  much  at  the  name,  so  lovely  is  the  flower  with  its 
semi-double  flowers,  faintly  tinged  with  pink.  It  is  a  real  pleasure 
to  see  these  new  flowers,  and  one  can  only  regret  that  the  shy 
seeding  propensities  of  Anemone  japonica  in  our  climate  will 
prevent  a  more  rapid  advance  in  giving  us  new  varieties  of  so 
valuable  a  plant. — S.  Arnott. 
THE  GARDENERS’  PA.TIt. 
(Continued  from  page  46i.) 
_  * 
“When  I  have  finished  my  education.’’  Ah!  when?  A 
common  expression  denoting  finality,  a  finality  we  ihall  never 
attain,  for  “  every  minute  as  it  springs  conveys  fresh  knowledge  on 
it.s  wings.”  The  youngest  lad  in  the  bothy  has  probably  an  inkling 
of  this  truth,  and  the  oldest  of  old  boys  is  indelibly  impressed  with 
it.  Scale  cliff  by  cliff,  gain  eminence  after  eminence  of  the  hill 
Parnassus.  No  mortal  has  reached  the  summit  where  the  gods  sit 
alone,  but  those  who  have  gone  farthest  have  seen  most — know 
most.  Enough  ?  Oh  no,  not  enough,  for  there  is  an  insatiable 
desire,  a  god-like  attribute  of  fallen  man  to  regain  his  birthright — 
to  be  “  as  one  of  us.”  This  matter  would  not  be  broached  if  it  was 
not  a  burden  that  tome  of  onr  best  men  are  carrying  at  the  present 
time,  and  we  know  it  is  a  burden  that  some  have  carried  too  far. 
I  have  heard  it  quaintly  described  as  “  something  innards,”  and  as 
a  matter  of  fact  most  of  our  burdens  are  I  think  “  something 
innards,”  and  consequently  harder  to  bear.  The  remedy  for  it, 
unlike  anything  hitherto  proscribed,  roust  be  sedative  instead  of 
stimulating.  But  don’t  you  boys  of  bothydom  be  frightened  ;  no 
case  of  it  has  yet  occurred  in  your  kingdom  ;  you  may  look  for  it 
in  the  years  to  come  about  the  middle  milestone,  and  if  yon  find  it, 
know  that  it  is  both  a  privilege  to  have  and  a  blessing  to  be  rid  of. 
Much  ado  about  nothing”  some  will  say.  Ah,  well!  it  is  very 
real  to  some,  this  “  something  innards  ;  ”  and  if  we  could  find  a 
remedy  in  the  quotation  that  “  Peace  begins  just  where  ambition 
ends,”  the  question  remain*.  Where  does  ambition  end  ?  But  more 
of  this  anon. 
Happily,  in  the  day*  that  have  fled  from  the  starting  point  till 
now,  a  bundle  of  good,  useful  things  has  been  yea-^ly,  even  daily, 
increasing  that  we  may  even  view  some  “  heads  ”  in  their  prime 
like  those  “ .  .  .  who  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew,  one  little 
head  could  carry  all  he  knew.”  Not  only  is  it  what  they  know,  but 
knowledge  always  ready  to  be  turned  to  account  ;  and,  somehow, 
the  larger  this  bundle  grows  the  smaller  becomes  that  pack  of  dis¬ 
agreeable#  previously  mentioned.  So  varied  are  its  contents  that 
the  question  might  be  put,  I#  not  the  bearer  a  “Jack  of  all  trades, 
and  master  of  none  ?”  For  my  part,  I  cannot  see  any  piece  of  the 
complex  machinery  of  a  garden  that  is  too  little  or  too  big  to  be 
beneath  or  above  the  notice  of  the  man  who  i#  dependent  on  its 
smooth  working  to  grind  out  the  filling  of  his  cornucopia.  The 
“  Jack  ”  theory  will  not  ease  the  “  head  ”  unless  we  can  abolish  it 
from  that  good  man,  the  plumber,  the  painter,  the  builder,  and 
take  it  for  granted  that  he  knows  all  about  gardening  ere  he  works 
bis  sovereign  will.  But  we  know  their  ignorance  of  such  matters, 
and  most  of  them  will  confess  it  in  a  fine  independent  spirit. 
Well  and  good.  We  know  they  do  not  know,  and  there  are  a 
hundred  examples  to  prove  it. 
Here  we  must,  of  courae,  exclude  those  eminent  specialiat# 
whose  object  it  is  both  to  know  and  to  give  the  gardener  exactly 
what  he  requires,  and  I  am  sure  that  there  is  not  one  gardener 
living  but  would,  if  he  could,  entrust  such  work  to  skilled  compe¬ 
tency — not  one  but  there  are  thousands  who  have  to  rely  upon 
those  with  whom  little  reliance  can  be  placed  to  give  unqualified 
satisfaction.  So  it  comes  to  pass  that  a  head  gardener  becomes 
expert  in  many  things  by  experience — bought  experience.  “Oh, 
we  know  all  this,”  says  Mr.  Prime  O  Life.  “  That  boiler  should 
have  been  set  this  way,  and  these  pipes  fixed  that  way.  Yon 
house  is  not  adapted  for  what  1  want,  and  it’i — it’s  those 
confounded  tradesmen.’’  Exactly  so.  There  is  no  mistaking 
a  mistake  when  it  is  made ;  the  mistake  is  in  not  seeing  it 
previously  I  want  oar  young  heads  to  know  this,  to  master 
all  detaili,  for  he  who  master#  the  details  is  indeed  maiter  of 
the  whole.  All  this  continuous  teaching  has  led,  or  should 
have  led,  up  to  the  possession  of  that  fine  faculty — the  power 
of  detecting  at  a  glance  the  false  from  the  true,  whether  that 
relates  to  the  ethic#  of  life,  of  work,  or  of  the  fundamental  rules 
governing  harmony  in  all  our  surroundings.  Pew  men  are  afforded 
better  opportunities  in  this  last  respect,  for  apart  from  constant 
communion  with  Nature  there  are  distinct  advantages  conferred  in 
the  duty  of  interpreting  the  wishes  of  those  possessed  of  the 
highest  refined  and  educated  taste.  This  power,  when  attained,  i# 
to  the  gardener  a  tower  of  strength,  even  supposing  that  circum¬ 
stances  demand  the  exerciae  of  ic  in  but  a  limited  degree.  When 
an  opinion  is  asked  for  it  is  given  promptly  and  decisively ;  and 
it  is  felt  to  be  unquestionable,  for  thi#  inherent  power  conveys 
as  much  by  the  window#  of  the  eyes  as  it  does  by  the  door  of 
speech. 
It  18  about  this  period  of  life  we  may  note  examples  where  this 
talent  is  invited  into  other  fields,  not  very  far  removed  from  the 
direct  object'—gardening — perhaps,  but  too  conspicuons  to  escape 
observation,  being,  as  it  appears  to  be,  a  triumph  of  gardening. 
“  To  escape  from  it  ?  ”  you  may  ask.  No,  certainly  not;  but  to 
carry  its  high  teachings  into  fro#h  fields  and  pastures  new.  So  we 
may  see  high-class  farming,  forestry,  literature,  and  even  architec¬ 
ture  enriched  by  this  means.  Some  thirty  miles  from  my  garden 
i#  a  stately  mansion  which  ha*  of  late  years  arisen  from  the  ruins  of 
one  destroyed  by  fire,  planned  entirely  by  the  gardener,  and  built 
under  his  supervision  from  start  to  finish.  “Impossible!”  you 
will  say  ;  “  just  an  old  boy’s  tale.”  Well,  I  must  add  that  Mr.  F - 
is  now  general  manager  of  the  e#tate ;  but  I  do  not  see  that  detr^ts 
one  whit  from  the  moral,  and  if  you  are  still  inclined  to  question 
the  “  Old  Boy’s  ”  veracity  this  X  is  a  memo .  for  me  to  furnish 
that  address  to  our  Editor,  which  I  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  give 
to  you.  Perhaps  in  recalling  to  mind  Sir  .Joieph  Paxton’s  powers 
as  illustrated  in  his  marvellous  creation  we  shall  find  that  “  impos¬ 
sible  ”  may  be  all  but  erased  from  our  dictionary. 
1  could,  of  course,  furnish  you  with  ample  illustration#  from 
life,  quite  a  variety  show,  in  fact,  of  snch  things,  real  good  things, 
bearing  the  trademark  of  some  of  our  gardening  “  heads,”  but  you 
may  now  know  (if  the  Editor  permit#  it)  that  my  pen  is  only  used 
at  night  when  the  spade  is  hung  up  for  the  day.  Some  time  since 
I  thought  to  have  hung  up  that  spade  for  good  and  kll.  Yet  (with 
a  sigh)  it  was  not  to  be  ;  but,  and  this  is  my  object  in  mentioning 
it,  the  few  gills  of  ink  consumed  in  this  desultory  fashion  ha#  pro/ed 
to  be,  with  me,  a  fine  cure  for  that  “something  innards.”  This 
“  Old  Boy  ”  is  ambitions,  you  will  conclude  ;  substitute  was  for  is, 
and  the  soft  impeachment  is  admitted.  This  is  such  an  important 
period  in  many  lives  that  I  would  fain  linger  over  it,^  but  am 
reminded  by  a  little  hint  once  given  in  these  words,  “  Y’’ou  go  a 
long  way  round  to  carry  home  a  simple  truth,”  but  I  like  to  dodge 
around  all  tho»e  vulnerable  points  I  know  so  well,  and  think  with 
Feltham  upon  this  matter,  that  “  a  thing  is  never  too  often  repeated 
which  is  never  suflSciently  learned.’'  There  are  many  reasons  why 
the  man  in  middle  life  should  mentally  rise  for  the  moment  above 
bis  surrounding#,  and  from  the  eyrie  of  his  eagle  thought  look 
down,  not  upon  his  neighbours,  but  upon  himself ; '  from  this 
vantage  ground  he  may,  too,  look  back  upon  his  own  track  to 
possibly  find  that  thus  viewed  it  i#  not  quite  so  straight  as  he 
thought  it  was  when  treading  it.  The^  principal  reason,  also,  for 
doing  it  now  i#  that,  if  not  done  now,  it  probably  will  never  be 
done  at  all.  Later  on,  and  but  little  removed  from  here,  the  mile¬ 
stones  will  appear  to  hurry  by  us  at  express  speed.  We  may 
confidently,  perhaps,  yet  look  forward  to  a  long  innings,  but  the 
demon  bowler  is  not  to  be  trusted,  it  would  be  presumption  to 
da  so. 
Well,  boys,  young  and  old,  tread  with  me  a  few  more  paces  of 
the  path,  from-  thence  we  will  walk  with  the  shades  of  some  who 
have  joined  the  great  company  beyond.  It  is  a  fairly  easy  road 
now,  not  only  because  it  is  a  little  downhill,  but  because  we  now 
view  it,  possibly,  in  as  good  a  light  as  we  ever  shall.  Some  of  our 
fellow  travellers  have  become  conspicuous  under  the  stronger  light 
of  competition — exhibiting — and  all  my  experience  and  observation 
leads  me  to  infer  that  thi#  active  stimulant  is  of  great  value  lu 
developing  what  might  otherwise  be  to  more  or  less  extent  lateid 
ability ;  there  is  also  so  much  of  the  philosophy  of  life  reveled 
here  with  its  pointed  lessons.  Others  have  been  forced  into 
contests,  which,  though  taking  a  widely  different  form,  are  but 
little  inferior  as  means  to  the  end.  This  is  in  having  to  provide, 
or  largely  contribute,  the  sinews  of  war  by  selling  the  produce  of 
