November  29,  1900. 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
485 
to  and  inclusive  of  1856,  the  late  Mr,  C.  Turner  did  not  catalogue  a 
single  self  Auricula,  and  his  splendid  Alpines  were  an  undreamed  of 
acquisition. 
Conspicua  was  almost  the  only  Alpine  Auricula  in  cultivation  in 
the  early  fifties.  Now  the  Alpine  Auriculas  are  being  improved  in 
several  quarters,  and  during  the  past  fifteen  years  fine  double  varieties 
have  put  in  appearance  far  in  advance  of  the  old  double  yellow  and 
double  black ;  while  a  unique  yellow  self,  viz.,  Horner’s  Buttercup, 
has  taken  the  place  of  the  historic  Gorton’s  Stadtholder,  a  variety  the 
origin  of  which  probably  dates  back  two  centuries  ago ;  and  is  now 
possibly  quite  lost  to  cultivation.  One  interesting  6gure  towers  aloft 
among  Auricula  raisers  and  cultivators,  Ben  Simonite  of  Sheffield, 
still  at  work  and  active  for  his  years.  Had  he  raised  and  circulated 
no  other  Auricula  but  green  edge  the  Rev.  F.  D.  Horner,  he  would 
have  earned  the  enduring  gratitude  of  every  lover  of  this  beautiful 
and  fascinating  flower.  The  centres  of  Auricula  enterprise  and 
activity  vary  almost  every  decade. 
Under  the  head  of  “Althaea  rosea”  we  find  in  the  R.H.S.  list  the 
once  popular  Hollyhock.  One’s  memory  goes  back  to  Charles  Baron 
and  Adam  Paul,  to  the  veteran  William  Chater,  to  Henry  Roake, 
Birchain  ;  the  Rev.  Edward  Hawke  (Lord  Hawke),  and  his  tussles  with 
Chater  at  Bishop  Auckland,  and  Edinburgh,  Brighton,  and  elsewhere, 
with  spikes  the  like  of  which  are  never  seen  in  the  present  day  ;  the 
brothers  George  and  William  Paul,  Anthony  Parsons.  Black  of 
Clewer,  Bragg,  Turner,  and  others.  There  were  Hollyhocks  in  those 
days,  and  growers  of  great  repute.  I  well  remember  the  first 
appearance  of  the  Hollyhock  disease  on  the  Royal  Nursery,  Slough,  in 
1855-56,  when  in  one  night  a  batch  of  seedling  plants,  just  coming  into 
bloom,  were  seared  just  as  if  a  firebrand  had  been  dragged  through 
them,  and  the  subsequent  rotting  of  cuttings  and  eyes  by  the  hundred. 
At  that  time  William  Chater  was  in  the  very  zenith  of  his  fame, 
and  his  collection  was  unrivalled  for  extent  and  quality.  But  no 
consideration  of  care,  or  culture,  or  fame,  or  attainment  could  stay  the 
progress  of  the  dread  fungus;  variety  after  variety  disappeared  for 
ever.  I  think  the  loss  of  so  many  grand  flowers  of  his  own 
production  shortened  William  Chater’s  life.  He  fought  the  disease 
stoutly  and  persistently,  but  he  could  not  overcome  it.  His  successors 
at  Saffron  Walden,  Messrs.  Webb  &  Brand,  and  other  growers  are 
raising  new  varieties,  and  seeking  to  reinstate  tie  flower  in  the  popular 
esteem.  The  single  form,  which  Charles  Biron  laboured  so  hard  to 
convert  into  a  double  one,  is,  by  the  irony  of  fate,  put  forward  in  our 
day  as  a  desirable  garden  plant ;  but  the  blossoms  are  too  fleeting  for 
modern  requirements. 
The  Anemone,  which  more  than  a  half-century  ago  the  Rev. 
Joseph  Tyso  of  Wallingford  and  his  successor,  Carey  Tyso,  did  so 
much  to  improve  and  popularise,  assisted  by  others,  was  then  highly 
popular;  collections  of  the  finest  types  were  eagerly  sought  after. 
The  Ranunculus  may  also  be  mentioned  in  this  relation ;  the  floral 
publications  of  forty  and  fifty  years  ago  give  illustrations  of  superb 
and  exquisitely  marked  forms.  The  Ranunculus  has  almost  dis¬ 
appeared  from  gardens;  even  the  Scarlet  I'urban,  which  was  once  so 
much  grown  in  some  market  gardens  for  bunching  for  market,  is  now 
rarely  seen.  Anemones,  both  double  and  single,  are  glorious 
spring  and  early  summer  flowers  in  the  garden;  a  leading  strain  is 
that  known  as  St.  Brigid’s,  misspelled  St.  Bridget’s  in  the  society’s 
list  of  certificated  plants.  The  late  flowering  Japanese  type  has 
received  some  valuable  additions  of  late  years,  which  culminated  in 
the  large  and  showy  semi-double  Mont  Rose  of  a  few  weeks  since. 
Shortly  before  the  formation  of  the  Floral  Committee  ot  the 
R.H.S.  a  Mr.  John  Riley  of  Huddersfield  was  busily  engaged  in 
improving  the  homely  Snapdragon  (Antirrhinum).  The  December 
number  of  “The  Florist  and  Garden  Miscellany”  for  1848  gives  a 
coloured  illustration  of  two  of  Mr.  Riley’s  improvements.  A  visitor 
to  Mr.  Riley’s  garden  in  1847  has  left  on  record  his  impression  of  the 
Huddersfield  Snapdragons,  and  it  reads  like  a  passage  from  a  romance 
when  he  says:  “  It  may  give  some  idea  of  the  size  of  the  individual 
plants  to  state  that  one  specimen,  the  largest,  but  still  not  very  much 
above  the  average,  measured  7  feet  high,  and  4  feet  2  inches  in 
diameter.”  One  of  the  varieties  figured,  named  sulphurea  elegans,  is 
a  pretty  striped  form,  probably  a  remote  progenitor  of  the  very  fine 
striped  flowers  of  the  present  day.  The  latest  award  made  to  a 
named  Antirrhinum  by  the  R.H.S.  was  in  1892  to  a  striped  variety 
named  George  Findlay.  The  Scottish  florists  have  done  wonders  with 
the  Antirrhinum.  Seed  strains  are  now  so  fine  that  the  naming  of 
special  varieties  is  only  rarely  followed. 
The  Aquilegia  (Columbine)  has  undergone  striking  transformations 
during  the  past  thirty  years.  Mr.  James  Douglas,  as  early  as  the 
seventies,  raised  hybrids  of  A.  coerulea  and  A.  californica.  As  far 
back  as  1860  A.  vulgaris  caryophylloides  obtained  from  the  R.H.S.  a 
commendation  for  Messrs.  Carter  &  Co.  It  was  a  charming  striped 
form,  but  proved  of  uncertain  development.  The  hybrids  of 
A.  coerulea  improved  by  selection  are  now  popular  garden  plants. 
The  yellow  and  white  forms  of  A.  chrysantlia  are  much  grown  for 
cutting  purposes. — R.  Dean. 
Hardy  Flowers  in  November. 
We  have  this  season  been  among  the  unfortunates  whose  doom  it 
was  to  hope  against  hope  for  an  improvement  in  the  weather,  but  who 
have  had,  instead,  to  content  ourselves  as  best  we  might  with  wind 
and  rain  ;  with  swift  wreck  and  decay  instead  of  that  slow  and 
pathetically  beautiful  death  which  comes  to  our  flowers  with  some 
Novembers.  In  such  our  grief  is  deprived  of  its  deepest  pang  by  the 
knowledge  that  our  favourites  have  fulfilled  their  purpose  and  have 
passed  away  in  due  time.  Otherwise  is  it  when,  as  of  late,  they 
are  ruined  by  wind  and  rain  ere  they  can  expand  their  blooms, 
or,  at  least,  before  they  had  fully  displayed  their  charms.  There 
have  been  many  flowers  this  autumn  which,  l.ke  Herrick’s  “pale 
Primroses,”  have  “died  unmarried ”  ere  they  could  behold  “Phoebus 
in  his  strength.” 
First  among  these  one  would  put  the  autumn  Crocuses,  whose 
delicate  beauty  should  place  them  in  the  forefront  of  our  dwarfest 
autumn  flowers.  Their  fate  has  been  mournful  as  a  whole,  and  they 
were  fortunate  who  could  shelter  them  with  glass  from  the  wind  and 
rain.  Yet  one’s  garden  doos  not  gain  in  beauty  when  it  is  disfigured 
with  a  phalanx  of  glasses,  such  as  would  be  needed  to  cover  a 
collfcction  equal  to  mine — and  I  know  of  a  few  larger  still — so  that 
most  of  my  Crocuses  have  now  to  take  the  weather  as  it  comes.  Thus 
they  give  one  less  satisfaction  than  is  their  wont.  Yet,  for  all  that, 
they  are  attractive  in  bud  or  in  bloom,  and  a  single  day,  or  even  an 
hour  or  two  of  their  beauty  in  perfection,  is  sufficient  to  atone  tor  much 
disappointment.  The  glorious  Crocus  speciosus  has  long  departed. 
So  have  a  good  many  more,  yet  if  we  look  out,  or,  better  still,  seek 
for  them  by  the  garden's  paths,  we  shall  find  enough  yet  to  gladden 
us  with  no  grudging  joy.  As  one  sits  at  the  desk  one  can  see  some 
little  minarets  of  several  hues.  First  in  sight  come  two  varieties  of 
the  little  0.  asturicus,  from  sunny  Spain,  and  from  that  province, 
remembered  in  its  name,  which  remained  unsubdued  by  the  Saracens. 
It  is  variable  in  its  colouring,  and  the  two  forms  now  in  bloom  here 
are  respectively  lilac  and  deep  purple. 
Almost  “cheek  by  jowl”  with  it,  though  there  was  no  design  in 
so  planting  them,  is  Crocus  serotinus,  one  of  my  most  recent 
acquisitions,  and  one  with  which  I  am  much  plea-fei.  It  is  appro¬ 
priately  placed  besides  C.  asturicus,  though  fortuitously,  seeing  that 
they  are  not  only  both  Spanish  species,  but  are  also  said  by  our  great 
authority  to  be  nearly  allied.  Its  flowers  are  distinct  enough  with 
their  lilac,  glabrous  throat  and  their  bright  purple  segments,  with  their 
feathered  lines  of  a  deeper  tint.  Further  on,  and  just  out  of  sight 
from  where  I  sit,  there  is  one  of  the  several  clumps  of  the  sweet- 
odoured  C.  longiflorus,  so  beautiful  in  fine  weather  as  to  compel  one’s 
highest  praise.  To-day  many  of  the  flowers  are  disfigured  by  rain 
and  overthrown  by  wind,  yet  we  cannot  pass  them  by  uuadmiringly, 
but  must  pause  to  study  the  shapely  lilac  flowers  with  their  yellow 
tubes.  A  charming  little  form  of  this  Crocus  is  the  variety  Wilhelmi, 
now  in  bloom  as  well  as  the  type.  One  might  speak  awhile  longer 
of  these  flowers  and  the  beauties  they  and  the  others  of  the  genus 
yet  in  bloom  possess;  but  one  must,  if  only  briefly,  turn  to  other 
flowers. 
We  look  to  the  Asters,  or  Starworts,  as  plants  likely  to  give  us 
flowers  at  this  time,  whatever  else  may  fail,  but  even  they,  or  the 
greater  number  of  them  at  least,  are  disappointing,  so  heavy  have 
been  the  rains  and  so  boisterous  the  winds.  The  fine  A.  grandiflorus, 
which  likes  frost  worse  than  many,  has  not  been  so  much  a  sufferer 
as  in  autumns  when  we  have  had  earlier  frosts.  There  is  often  some 
compensation  in  our  troubles,  and  it  is  certainly  one  to  be  in  possession 
of  the  fine  violet  flowers  of  this  noble  Starwort.  Then,  among  a  few 
others,  we  have  the  charming  small-flowered  A.  diffuses  horizontalis, 
with  its  beautiful  branching  sprays  of  white  flowers  with  their  red 
centres.  One  of  the  hardiest,  I  have,  some  years,  had  it  in  bloom  in  a 
shady  place,  at  Chrismastide,  and  some  once  or  twice  at  New  Year’s 
Day.  Then  we  still  have  flowers  on  one  or  two  of  the  novse-angliaj 
group,  besides  those  of  A.  Tradescanti  and  a  few  rem  lining  upon 
various  others.  It  seems  strange  to  read  in  the  Journal  of  fine 
weather  in  the  south  when  we  have  hal  to  deplore  flowers  bittered 
and  beaten  by  constant  rains  which  even  these  Starworts  could  hardly 
withstand. 
Sheltered  somewhat  from  the  storms,  late  as  it  is,  Tropaeolum 
tuberosum  yet  gives  a  few  of  its  scarlet  and  yellow  flowers,  while 
late  sown  plants  of  the  annual  T.  Lobbianum  yet  climb  up  their  trellis. 
Now,  too,  we  see  “  the  patient  beauty  of  the  scentless  Rose,”  which 
still  struggles  to  give  its  incomparable  loveliness.  Tuere  are  yet  big 
masses  of  Hydrangeas  in  gardens  near  by,  though  one’s  own,  more 
exposed  to  the  wind,  have  lost  their  beauty.  Elsewhere  in  the 
garden  amid  the  wreckage  of  the  summer’s  glories,  a  few  other 
flowers  shine,  their  beauty  remaining  though  sadly  dimmed.  One 
still  has  hope,  not  without  some  warrant  from  the  outlook,  that  things 
will  mend,  and  that  before  hard  frost  comes  we  may  have  a  few 
brighter  days  to  enjoy  what  are  left  to  us. — S.  Arnott. 
