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JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
January  3,  1901. 
occupants.  It  was  a  welcome  find ;  it  betokens  the  hoBt  of  spring 
flowers  which  are  the  scouts  of  the  great  army  of  Flora.  They  are  on 
the  way,  though  as  this  is  written  the  last  year  of  the  old  century  has 
not  yet  completed  its  course,  and  these  brave  “  eyes  and  ears  ”  of  the 
floral  army  will  again  and  again  be  driven  back  by  biting  winds  and 
frosty  days  and  nights.  Still,  they  will  advance ;  and  this  Winter 
Aconite  is  the  first  to  tell  us  that  the  days  of  joy  are  at  hand.  How 
sweet  are  the  hopes  which  float  through  our  minds  as  we  see  these 
few  flowers  none  can  tell  but  those  whose  gardens  are  to  them 
their  unfading  delight.  Even  that  little  bed  where  these  flowers 
appear  brings  to  our  minds  the  thought  that  in  it,  after  the  Aconite 
has  lost  its  beauty,  there  will  appear  the  white  bells  of  the  sweet 
Lily  of  the  Valley,  for  the  two  are  intermingled,  so  that  when 
summer  comes  we  may  have  the  sweetness  and  the  grace  of  the 
Convallaria  instead  of  the  bare  soil.  Later  again  this  summer  flower 
gives  its  bright  scarlet  fruit,  like  little  ruby  lamps,  in  the  sunless 
corner. 
Some  may  say,  “  Why,  the  Winter  Aconite  is  a  cheap  and  common 
flower  !  Why  waste  space  and  time  in  writing  about  it  ?  ”  That  it 
is  both  cheap  and  common  is  not  to  be  gainsaid  in  some  circles,  but 
that  it  is  common  in  others  can  be  strenuously  and  justly  denied. 
There  are  thousands ;  nay,  tens  of  thousands  of  gardens,  where  it  is 
never  grown,  either  because  it  has  never  been  seen  by  the  owner,  or 
because  it  has  been  called  “  common.”  Yet  there  are  few  of  these 
tens  of  thousands  of  gardens,  large  or  small,  but  would  be  the 
brighter  and  the  better  of  this  Winter  Wolf’s  Bane,  as  Eranthis  hyemalis 
is  called,  besides  the  other  English  name  I  have  adopted  as  the  title 
of  this  article.  Thus  one  would  plead  that  it  might  be  judged  on  its 
merits,  and  taken  for  what  it  is,  a  simple  little  golden  flower,  almost 
the  harbinger  of  spring,  and  one  which  can  brighten  up  the  garden  in 
gloomy  seasons  long  before  most  others  have  ventured  to  show  signs  of 
growth  above  the  surface.  Had  it  been  adapted  for  cutting  what  a 
favourite  it  would  have  been ;  but  its  mission  is  to  lighten  the  dark 
places  and  the  dull  days,  not  to  be  plucked  for  the  table  or  to  form 
a  personal  ornament. 
Eranthis  hyemalis  is  a  western  Europe  plant,  and,  if  not  a  native  of 
England,  has  been  so  long  with  us  as  to  be  “  one  of  ourselves.”  It 
seems  almost  needless  to  say  anything  about  its  appearance,  but  one 
often  finds  that  the  “common”  things  are  unknown,  and  that  some 
idea  of  their  personality  would  be  welcome.  It  grows  from  3  to  8  or 
9  inches  in  height,  and  has  sessile  yellow  flowers  resting  on  the 
involucre  of  three  deeply  cut  leaves,  which  form  a  charming  Elizabethan 
ruff  round  the  six  or  eight  sepals,  which  are  the  most  conspicuous  parts 
of  the  flower.  The  Winter  Aconite  likes  a  rather  strong  soil,  though 
it  thrives  perfectly  in  one  of  a  lighter  nature  provided  that  it  does  not 
become  too  dry.  It  delights  in  partial  shade,  and  is  one  of  the  plants 
which  never  look  better  than  in  grass,  where  its  flowers  do  not  become 
splashed  with  soil  in  heavy  rains.  It  blooms  in  some  districts  often 
as  early  as  December,  but  its  flowering  is  hastened  or  delayed  by  the 
weather  conditions ;  sometimes  it  is  March  before  it  can  make  its 
way  through  the  frozen  soil. 
One  has  often  wished  that  one  could  have  some  little  variety  in 
colouring  in  the  Winter  Aconite,  though  it  mu3t  be  said  that  we  are  not 
likely  to  get  any  tint  or  hue  which  will  be  better  fitted  for  the  purpose 
of  brightening  our  gardens.  Some  who  have  been  working  in  this 
direction  have  raised  flowers  of  a  paler  yellow,  and  it  is  possible  that 
through  a  creamy  yellow— ryet  to  be  raised — we  may  have  a  white 
flower  of  the  purity  of  the  allied  Christmas  Bose.  Such  a  flower  would 
be  worth  trying  for. 
One  finds  in  books  of  reference  a  Winter  Aconite  named  E.  sibirica, 
but  I  do  not  think  this  is  in  cultivation  in  this  country  ;  at  any  rate,  I 
have  not  heard  of  it  anywhere.  It  is  described  as  blooming  in  March 
and  April,  and  as  having  yellow  flowers.  It  is  a  native  of  Siberia,  and 
its  absence  from  gardens  seems  rather  surprising.  I  have,  however, 
had  the  pleasure  of  growing  E.  cilicicus,  a  Winter  Aconite  of  recent 
introduction.  It  blooms  later  than  our  better-known  species,  and  is, 
on  the  whole,  not  so  good.  It  comes  into  bloom  later,  its  blooms  are 
rather  darker,  its  leafy  “  ruff  ”  is  not  so  pretty,  and  its  hardiness  is 
beyond  suspicion.  It  comes  from  Cilicia,  and  is  now  offered  by  dealers 
in  this  country  at  a  reasonable  price. 
Whether  we  grow  the  Eranthis  for  the  garden  or  the  woodland,  we 
must  recognise  in  its  little  flowers  some  of  the  boons  of  Nature  to  light 
up  our  dark  places  with  gold  in  the  short  dull  days  of  the  new  year. 
—  S.  Arnott. 
Young  Gardeners’  Domain. 
Thoughts  for  Young  Thinkers. 
The  new  year  of  a  new  century  !  What  do  our  boys  in  bothydom 
think  of  it  ?  or  do  they  think  of  it  at  all  ?  Just  a  passing  thought, 
perhaps;  perhaps  more.  To  me  it  seems  that  this  dual  event  should 
possess  more  than  passing  interest  for  those  to  whom  it  must  mean  so 
much.  In  many  a  bothy  there  are  no  doubt  conceived  big  batches  of 
good  resolutions,  begotten  of  a  worthy  desire  to  take  occasion  by  the 
hand,  ready  to  spring  into  birth  on  the  death  of  the  old  year.  That  is 
good.  And  doubtless,  too,  there  are  some  thoughtful  workers  who  are 
sincere  and  earnest  in  their  self-imposed  tasks  for  progression,  and  that 
is  better.  Again,  perhaps,  a  few  are  critically  and  conscientiously 
reviewing  a  year’s  work — such  work  as  the  leisure  hour  has  afforded 
them  time  and  opportunity  for,  and  by  enlarged  powers  of  perception 
are  readjusting  or  extending  their  plan  to  suit  it  to  increased  capability. 
That  is  best  of  all. 
“  Know  Thyself,”  “  Consider  the  End,”  and  “  Know  Thy  Oppor¬ 
tunity  ”  were  three  of  the  seven  mottoes  inscribed  on  the  Delphian 
Temple  by  seven  wise  men  of  Greece,  and  one  cannot  but  conclude 
that  of  the  three  sections  of  our  young  friends  in  bothydom  I  have 
endeavoured  to  depict  the  last  section  are  already  pupils  of  those  grand 
old  philosophers.  Would  that  I  could  induce  Santa  Claus  to  visit  every 
bothy  in  the  kingdom  and  tack  up  on  its  walls  those  three  old  Pagan 
precepts  as  companions  to  the  “Happy  Christmas”  or  other  modest 
decorations  which  even  bothydom  does  not  escape.  Possibly  many 
young  readers  recollect  certain  papers  which  were  promulgated  for  their 
benefit  in  these  pages.  Apropos  of  those  endeavours  to  help  them,  a 
critical  friend  said  to  me  at  the  time  they  were  published,  “  All  your 
preaching  and  teaching  won’t  do  one  ha’poth  o’  g-bod  to  the  young 
fellows  now-a-days ;  all  they  think  of  is  dancing  or  dangling  about  in 
their  leisure.”  I  neither  believed  that  then  nor  do  I  now,  but  I  do 
believe  that  a  little  judicious  direction  may  often  prevent  a  young 
traveller  from  going  astray  on  life’s  journey.  With  this  declaration 
of  my  faith  in  the  rising  generation  of  gardeners  come  co-existent 
thoughts  on  our  own  responsibility. 
“  Temptation  hath  a  music  for  all  ears.”  Is  it  a  matter  for  surprise 
that  young  fellows  situated  in  some  suburban  garden,  well  under  the 
fringe  of  that  smoke  cloud  which  hangs  over  a  big  city,  should  be 
attracted  by  brilliant  lights,  moving  masses  of  humanity,  and  all  the 
glare  and  fanfare  of  restless  life  ?  or  is  it  surprising  that  a  boy  with  his 
pay  in  his  pocket,  and  penny  trams  running  here,  there,  and  everywhere, 
should  periodically  join  the  gods  in  the  gallery  at  “  The  Empire  ”  or 
“Lyric”  Music  Hall?  Whilst  admitting  that  my  friend’s  adverse 
criticism  was  not  wholly  unjustified,  we  must  pity,  but  can  scarcely 
condemn  young  boys  for  falling  into  these  social  traps  which  are  ready 
to  ensnare  them  ;  and  are  old  boys  entirely  blameless  if  they  do  not  use 
the  undoubted  influence  they  possess  to  counteract  the  evil  P  “  Can  a 
lad  be  always  tied  to  a  head  gardener’s  apron  string  ?  ”  may  be  asked. 
No,  certainly  not  ;  or  is  it  desirable,  but  it  is  possible  to  weave  a  far 
stronger  tie  of  sympathy  ’twixt  old  heads  and  young  hands  which  may 
unite  the  opposing  ends  of  responsibility. 
There  is,  however,  a  divergence  of  opinion  over  such  points.  Many 
thinkers,  many  thoughts.  These  thoughts  have,  unintentionally, 
strayed  from  the  bothy  to  the  gardener’s  house,  which  is  oft  so  near 
but  yet  so  far,  whereas  they  were  only  intended  as  a  seasonable  greeting 
and  a  timely  reminder  to  our  young  friends.  Let  each  mark  that  in 
himself  his  safety  lies.  Will  our  boys  think  over  those  ancient  sayings 
previously  quoted  and  observe  what  a  vast  field  they  embrace  P  The 
contemplation  of  them  should  engender  serious  thoughts  now,  and 
possibly  prevent  sad  ones  hereafter.  The  best  actions  spring  from  the 
noblest  thoughts. 
Should  any  of  our  boys  be  happily  placed  under  a  head  gardener 
whom  they  know  is  willing  and  anxious  to  help  them  at  this  crucial 
period  of  life,  and  it  is  easily  seen  and  known,  I  most  sincerely  hope  that 
they  will  know  their  opportunity,  and  that  they  will  think  twice  ere 
doing  any  foolish  thing  to  render  his  help  and  counsel  null  and  void. 
Second  thoughts,  which  are  often  best,  may  cause  them  to  hesitate  ere 
doing  what  may  not  only  blight  their  own  lives  but  bring  disappointment 
to  a  master  one  of  whose  chief  pleasures  is  to  help  them.  Thoughts 
are  fugitive  things,  but  if  from  wise  thoughts  they  draw  sound 
conclusions  this  can  scarcely  happen.  If  a  young  fellow  knowingly 
allows  any  weak  point  to  remain  in  his  armour  after  being  made 
cognisant  of  it,  for  him  one  feels  unqualified  pity.  However  well- 
developed  his  physical  strength  may  be  we  can  only  infer  that  he  is 
more  or  less  mentally  weak — the  will-power  is  wanting. 
“What  can  I  do?”  some  young  thinker  may  ask,  who  has  not 
thought  very  deeply  over  the  problems  of  life.  Think  further,  young 
friend,  and  I  will  then  ask  you  in  answer  to  that  question,  “  What  can 
you  not  do  ?  ”  A  philosophic  student  of  his  fellow  men  once  remarked 
that  he  always  felt  as  if  he  ought  to  lift  his  hat  to  every  bright-faced 
boy  he  met — not  for  what  the  boy  was,  but  for  the  boundless  possibilities 
which  were  open  to  him.  Do  not,  however,  lose  yourselves  in  the 
contemplation  of  what  you  may  be  ;  do  what  you  ought  to  do  now,  and 
you  will  eventually  be  what  you  ought  to  be.  Fight  manfully  on  this 
battle  of  life,  and  may  the  new  year  bring  blessings  on  your  work, 
and  the  new  century  prosperity  to  your  lives,  is  the  hearty  desire  and 
sincere  greeting  to  each  and  all  of  you  in  bothydom  from — An  Old  Boy 
