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JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER,  September  12, 1901. 
a  vanishing  point,  where  she  can  no  longer  say  that  this  is  plant  or 
that  is  animal.  Shall  we  then  wonder  at  the  poetical  query  ? 
What’s  this  I  hear  about  the  new  carnivora  ? 
Can  little  plants  eat  bugs  and  ants,  and  gnats  and  flies  ? 
A  sort  of  retrograding  ! 
Surely  the  fare  of  flowers  is  air,  or  something  sweet ;  they 
shouldn’t  eat, 
Or  do  aught  so  degrading. 
Carnivorous  plants  are  oiten  regarded  as  curiosities,  nothing  more. 
But  few  recognise  their  claims  to  culture,  and  even  in  some  very  good 
gardens  carnivorous  plants  are  conspicuous  by  their  absence.  It  is  a 
matter  for  regret  that  it  is  so.  Perhaps  but  a  little  pleading  of  their 
claims  is  all  that  is  necessary.  Intensely  interesting  to  the  plant 
lover ;  beautiful  to  those  who  possess  an  eye  for  beauty  ;  sufficiently 
mysterious  in  their  workings  to  exercise  the  scientifically  disposed  ; 
with  just  enough  waywardness  of  character  to  exact  attention  from 
the  grower ;  and  last,  probably  least,  that  halo  of  romance  we  may 
enshrine  them  with  from  a  remote  past,  are  merits  sufficient,  it  is 
hoped,  to  provide  room  for  them  in  our  hearts  and  a  corner  in  our 
houses.  The  economic  value  of  Nepenthes  in  the  tropical  Orchid  house 
may  be  regarded  by  a  superficial  observer  as  next  to  nil,  but  in  one 
place  where  the  aerial  roots  of  a  goodly  number  of  Phalsenopses  in 
variety  formed  a  tempting  mouthful  for  the  marauding  cockroach, 
these  silent  trappers  were  of  distinct  benefit.  Statistics  were  started  by 
thejad  in  charge  to  prove  this,  and  what  field  days,  or  rather  morn¬ 
ings,  they  had.  “  My  !  here’s  a  big  ’un.”  “  Here’s  three.”  “  And  by 
the  - - if  there  ain’t  seven  in  this  pitcher !  ”  So  daily  count  was  kept 
by  scratches  on  a  damp  wall,  till  such  time  as  the  lad  and  the  little 
’un  went  out  into  the  world,  the  one  on  his  own  account,  the  other  on 
somebody  else’s,  and  the  writing  on  the  wall  was  nothing  to  newcomers. 
Early  impressions  are  not  easily  effaced.  From  that  time  probably 
proceeds  the  feeling  that  no  plant  stove,  however  well  furnished,  is 
complete  without  Pitcher-plants,  and  there  are  no  plants  so  capable  of 
imparting  a  high  tropical  tone  to  the  surroundings.  If  there  is  much 
mystery  about  their  birth  there  is  certainly  but  little  in  their  culture. 
Heat  and  moisture  are  essential  to  all  save  one,  which,  from  its  rarity, 
is  not  likely  to  trouble  any  of  our  readers  with  its  whims  and  fancies, 
for  the  handsome  Bajah  is  ceitainly  a  whimsical  fellow.  Nepenthes 
in  pots  never  look  happily  situated  unless  allowed  to  grow  on 
uninterruptedly,  to  be  finally  supported  by  horizontal  wires  when  the 
depending  pitchers  show  to  advantage ;  otherwise  the  ordinary  teak 
baskets  are  admirably  adapted  to  their  culture.  Fibrous  peat  with  a 
liberal  addition  of  sphagnum  and  charcoal,  and  a  seasoning  of  sharp 
sand,  forms  an  ideal  compost,  although  the  admixture  of  turfy  loam  is 
approved  of  hy  some.  When  the  trapping  season  is  in  full  swing  and 
the  fun  goes  on  fast  and  fuiious,  we  have  found  it  necessary  to  make 
these  carnivora  occasionally  disgorge  some  of  their  toothsome  morsels  by 
inverting  the  pitchers,  and  so  prevent  them  suffering  from  a  surfeit, 
which  shows  itself  in  the  pitcher  bottoms  becoming  decayed. 
Cooler- growing  kinds  of  the  carnivora  possess  but  little  less 
attractiveness  yet  all  are  not  so  easily  managed.  The  Odontoglossum 
house  and  Odontoglossum  treatment  will,  however,  be  found  suitable 
to  most  of  the  species.  In  the  Botanic  Gardens  of  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  a  happy  example  of  Sarracenia  culture  shows  the  ornamental 
capabilities  of  this  particular  genus,  and  much  as  one  may  admire  an 
isolated  specimen,  Mr.  Burbidge’s  method  of  growing  these  North 
American  beg  plants  in  groups  is  undoubtedly  the  way,  the  leafy 
trumpets,  suffused  and  veined  with  bright  colours,  as  seen  in 
S.  Drummondi,  with  the  quaint,  delicate-hued  blossoms  of  S.  flava, 
being  peculiarly  attractive.  In  Darlingtonia  californica  we  have  an 
unique  form  of  the  vegetable  carnivora,  although  its  weirdly  fantastic 
shape  is  only  fully  revealed  in  a  fine  specimen,  which  is  rare  to  meet 
with.  Under  these  conditions  it  is  ably  described  in  the  words  of  a 
Scottish  lady  as  being  “terribly  uncanny.”  This,  with  the  Sarracenias 
and  little  Sundews  (Drosera),  are  capable  of  forming  a  very  interesting 
feature  in  a  secluded  nook  of  the  bog  garden.  The  beauty  and 
extraordinary  character  of  the  Droseras  can,  perhaps,  only  be  fully 
appreciated  when  viewed  under  a  magnifying  hns.  D.  dichotoma  is 
probably  the  finest  of  the  genus,  although  our  own  British  kinds,  if 
less  showy,  are  equally  interesting. 
No  collection  of  carnivorous  plants  can  be  considered  complete 
without  a  specimen  of  the  chaiming  New  Holland  Pitcher-plant, 
Cephalotus  follicularis.  In  a  cool  moist  corner  of  the  Fern  house,  or 
Odontoglossum  house,  and  with  the  additional  protection  afforded  by 
a  bellglass,  but  little  difficulty  obtains  in  growing  it,  although  a  good 
plant  is  seldom  seen.  It  was  the  pet  novelty  of  an  old-time  gardener — 
the  titbit  with  which  he  was  wont  to  regale  his  friends.  With  what 
an  air  of  mystery  be  wouid  lift  the  bellglass  and  point  with  pardonable 
pride  to  the  straDge  Australian  !  Not  a  word  from  him.  He  waited 
to  hear  what  his  visitors  said,  and  should  it  happen  that  they,  devoid 
of  the  true  gardening  instinct,  thought  but  little  of  bis  pet,  he,  indeed, 
thought  but  little  of  them,  But — 
Beauty,  like  wit,  to  judges  should  be  shown, 
K.,  Dublin.  B°th  are  most  valued  where  they  best  are  known. 
Wild  Flowers  of  Old  Englislf  Gardens. 
In  the  Campanulas,  Bluebells  or  Harebells,  we  have  a  pleasing  and 
popular  group  of  native  plants,  long  cultivated ;  all  of  them  are  not 
blue.  C.  rotundifolia  seems  to  have  been  the  oldest  that  received  a 
name,  being  called  the  Round-leaved  Blewbel,  spelt  thus.  Hare¬ 
bell  is  also  the  usual  spelling  in  gardening  publications  of  what  some 
argue  should  be  Hairbell,  suggested  by  the  delicate  and  hair-like 
stalks.  There  was  a  lively  discussion  upon  the  subject  a  few  years 
ago  in  a  scientific  journal,  which  came  near  to  being  an  angry  one,  for 
it  is  possible  to  quarrel  even  over  flowers.  Yet  the  controversy  brought 
out  several  curious  facts,  one  of  these  being  that  the  first  plant  to 
which  the  name  of  Harebell  belonged  was  Scilla  nutans;  why,  we 
know  not,  but  plants  have  often  taken  appellations  from  animals. 
Probably  this  was  the  “  azured  Harebell  ”  of  Shakespeare,  not  a 
Campanula.  How  the  name  passed  to  the  latter  genus,  and  when, 
nobody  could  elucidate.  Nor  were  those  successful  who  endeavoured  to 
make  out  that  the  original  spelling  of  Hairbell  might  have  been 
Harebell ;  there  was  no  proof  of  any  such  error.  Again,  somebody 
asked  whether  the  plants  might  not  have  been  called  Airbells,  as 
many  resemble  in  colour  the  air  or  sky.  We  have  not  exhausted  the 
names  yet,  for  that  of  Heathbell  has  been  given  to  several  species 
occurring  on  heaths  or  downs  ;  and  Witch’s  Thimbles  is  shared  by 
them  with  other  plants  of  various  families;  this  was  once  common  in 
Beveral  English  counties.  Canterbury  Bell  is  a  name  borne  by 
more  than  one  Campanula  of  our  gardens,  but  the  true  Canterbury 
Bell  is  C.  trachelium,  the  species  being  once  very  abundant  in  the 
vicinity  of  tbat  town.  [C.  rotundifolia  is  the  Scottish  Bluebell  of 
song  and  story,  the  English  Bluebell  being  Scilla  nutans.] 
But  this  Nettle-leaved  Bellflower,  which  took  the  Latin  specific 
name  from  its  former  use  in  affections  of  the  throat,  is  a  rather  erratic 
plant.  Some  years  ago  it  was  growing  in  all  directions  over  one  of 
our  Kentish  cemeteries,  even  amongst  the  grass,  and  not  long  after 
it  had  disappeared  from  the  place.  A  tall  plant  of  vigorous  growth, 
often  with  showy  racemes  of  two  or  three  together,  London  gardeners 
fancied  it,  and  brought  it  home  from  the  suburban  woods.  They  soon 
got  three  varieties,  a  double  of  the  ordinary  colour,  a  single  and  a 
double  white.  Still  more  plentiful  near  Londoa  in  the  olden  time 
was  C.  rotundifolia,  the  species  which  specially  charmed  the  poets. 
Though  of  humbler  growth  than  some  of  its  relations,  it  has  the 
peculiarity  that  the  leaves  often  die  off  before  the  flowers  expand. 
Occasionally  the  plant  was  grown  in  frames,  to  obtain  a  quantity  of 
flowers,  but  it  is  best  suited  for  the  rock  garden  or  sloping  banks. 
Under  cultivation  the  colour  of  the  flower  tends  to  become  paler. 
The  prince  of  our  British  species  of  Bluebells  or  Harebells  is  the 
northern  Campanula  latifolia,  a  stately  plant,  which  will  sometimes 
reach  the  height  of  5  feet,  having  a  spike  above  half  the  length 
of  the  whole  plant,  its  flowers  large,  of  a  deep  blue.  It  has  been- 
chiefly  grown  in  gardens  of  the  north  of  England  and  Scotland,  for 
it  is  rare  towards  the  south  ;  the  higher  its  latitude  the  lighter  its 
bloom  usually.  A  garden  variety,  purple  and  white,  was  known  early 
in  last  century;  the  whole  plant  is  rather  milky.  We  are  more  likely 
10  see  the  rare  C.  rapunculoides  in  some  old  fashioned  garden  than  to 
come  upon  it  as  a  wild  flower  about  some  northern  wood  or  field,  where 
it  may  be  found.  It  has  a  rough  stem,  leaves  of  a  deep  shining  green,, 
and  a  one-sided  spike  of  purplish  drooping  flowers. 
Then  there  was  the  Rampion,  C.  rapunculus,  which  held  a 
different  position  in  our  ancestors’  gardens  from  the  other  Campanulas, 
since  it  had  popularity  as  supplying  an  article  of  food.  Its  long 
milky  root  was  dug  up  and  eaten  any  time  between  November  and 
April.  It  is  a  biennial,  and  was  raised  from  seed  sown  during  May. 
The  leaves  are  large,  and  the  stalk  is  often  3  feet  high,  having  a  long 
regular  panicle  of  light  ;blue  flowers.  I  think  it  is  truly  British, 
though  in  some  parts  of  Kent  and  Surrey  it  is  said  to  have  “  escaped 
from  cultivation,”  possibly.  The  Clustered  Bluebell  (C.  glomerata)  is 
a  showy  native  ;  the  flowers  are  in  blue  or  violet  clusters  on  the 
branches  and  stem,  under  cultivation  they  are  paler,  and  the  plant  is 
less  luxurious.  Double  and  white  varieties  have  been  produced^ 
Graceful  but  creeping  is  the  Ivy-leaved  Bluebell,  C.  hederacea,  which 
probably  came  to  London  gardens  from  Epping  Forest  ;  its  slender 
stalked  flowers  are  light  blue, 
During  the  dry  summer  weather,  when  many  wild  flowers  died  off,, 
the  small  Convolvulus  came  up  upon  many  fields,  unaffected  by  the 
drought.  It  has  always  beea  common  about  gardens  as  a  weed,  but 
its  larger  relative  has  often  been  allowed  to  extend  its  sprays  over 
hedgerows,  or  twine  them  around  shrubs.  C.  sepium  is  really  a 
handsome  climber,  but  its  hells  have  not  the  fine  fragrance  given  off 
by  its  humbler  relative,  especially  at  night,  and  its  colour  is  always 
w  ite  without  the  varying  tints  of  C.  arvensis.  Withywind  and  Old 
Man’s  Nightcap  are  other  names  given  to  the  Greater  Bindweed. 
Both  species  are  account'  d  to  belong  to  Nature’s  barometer,  the  closing 
of  their  blossoms,  particularly  during  the  forenoon,  being  a  sure- 
indication  of  approaching  rainfall. — J.  R.  S.  C. 
