296 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
April  11,  1901. 
o’  money”  by  his  greenhouse,  and  the  plant  conversation  was 
perfectly  intelligible  to  my  sage  experience  of  five  summers  if  the 
“  mint  o’  money  ”  was  somewhat  puzzling.  However,  it  seemed  nice, 
but  nicer  still  did  it  seem  to  be  mad — as  mad  as  “  Old  Applo.”  “  Now 
my  booty,  you  be  a  dry,  be  you  ?  ”  To  hear  him  speak  thus  to  a 
Fuchsia  brought,  somehow,  a  thirsty  feeling  in  my  mouth,  and 
somehow,  too,  that  plant  seemed  at  once  to  put  on  a  more  pitiful  droop, 
until  the  waterpot  made  us  both  feel  very  much  better.  He  talked 
to  his  plants,  and  they  replied  in  eloquent  silence  we  so  well 
understood.  But,  alas!  one  day  there  was  a  strange  commotion  at 
“  Old  Applo’s  ”  as  I  crept  in  unnoticed  and  wandered  into  his  green¬ 
house  for  the  last  time.  All  the  plants  were  drooping  then,  and  I  sat 
on  a  pot  and  cried  with  them  until  someone  came  and  comforted  me 
with  a  very  small  Fuchsia  bearing  a  very  big  name,  a  name  only 
used  for  carriage  folks;  our  common  name  was  "Wenus,”  and  I 
carried  my  “  Wenus”  home,  and  they  carried  away  dear  “  Old  Applo” 
down  the  long,  white,  dusty  road,  never  to  return. 
Now  and  again  one  meets  men  whose  methods  and  manners 
resemble  in  a  measure  those  of  the  departed  friend.  Some  of  them, 
when  subjects  of  conversation,  are  spoken  of  as  “  characters,”  and  as 
they  rise  in  the  world  of  work,  as  some  of  them  have  risen,  by  the 
higher  paths  of  science,  and  walk  in  closer  communion  with  Nature, 
they  are  then  termed  enthusiasts.  As  gardeners  they  have  not, 
probably,  produced  the  biggest  Onion  or  the  heaviest  bunch  of 
Grapes,  and  they  are  to  be  regarded  as  ministers  rather  than  masters 
of  Nature.  To  them  she  deigns  to  reveal  her  little  things,  which 
some,  perchance,  outwardly  contemn,  but  none  really  can  afford  to 
despise.  Of  what  use,  may  be  asked,  is  such  philosophy  to  a  gardener  ? 
But  were  it  possible  to  bring  side  by  side  the  man  whose  soul  goes 
out  to  meet  the  soul  of  Nature,  whose  life  of  toil  is  sweetened  and 
ennobled  by  this  communion  with  his  antitype,  then,  and  then  only, 
perhaps,  could  the  question  be  fully  answered ;  and  in  that  is  the 
secret  of  all  that  makes  life  worth  living.  Nay,  more  ;  for  to  such 
men  life  is  a  perpetual  feast. 
Would  that  one  could  more  clearly  set  forth  this  philosophy  t' 
show  that  it  is  no  fleeting'vision  of  a  dreamer — show  how  men  by  its 
means  are  lifted  above  all  the  drudgery  of  commonplace,  and  that  no 
vicissitudes  of  life  are  able  to  sap  the  twin  essences  which  feed  the 
lamp  of  love,  brightening  the,  maybe,  lowly,  and  often  lonely,  path. 
No  more  apt  pupil  was  ever  schooled  in  the  kingdom  of  silent  life  than 
“  Old  Ephraim,”  who  presided  over  a  Gloucestershire  garden.  His 
plants  were  a  picture  of  health,  and  his  Boses  rosier,  figuratively,  than 
other  Boses  for  a  score  of  miles  over  the  breezy  hills.  As  for  Tea 
Boses  filling  a  ricketty  greenhouse  which  leaned  lovingly  against  the 
quaint  old  rectory,  I  have  never  seen  them  equalled,  and  they  were  a 
veritable  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  his  lordship’s  head  gardener,  my  then 
master.  It  was,  of  course,  very  well  understood  by  us  that  “  Old  Eph  ” 
was  “  no  gardener,”  for  the  utter  absence  of  mathematical  precision  in 
all  his  works  in  that  old-world  entanglement  of  fragrance  and  beauty 
proclaimed  the  fact,  but  that  the  lives  of  man  and  plant  were 
indissolubly  bound  up  to  their  mutual  advantage  was  incontestable. 
One  never  saw  green  fly  on  “Old  Eph’s” Boses,  and  the  only  way  we 
knew  that  such  contingencies  ever  confronted  him  was  from  a 
contemporarv  boy  employed  at  the  rectory,  who  would  tell  us,  “  When 
[  sees  ‘Old  Eph’  a  scratching  hisself  in  the  greenhouse,  for  sure  and 
sartin  the  fly’s  about,”  and  the  old  man  had  been  known  to  wait  up 
till  the  “we  sma’  hours”  for  the  wind  to  drop  in  order  to  fumigate 
them  and  his  own  feelings  to  a  normal  degree  of  comfort.  That 
prevention  is  better  than  cure  was  a  fundamental  ethic  unconsciously 
interwoven  in  the  life’s  web  of  this  grand  old  gardener  ;  so  with  all 
apt  pupils  of  Nature  in  that  most  fascinating  phase  of  work — 
gardening. 
So  far  back  as  when  men  planned  those  grand  old  temples  as 
models  of  architecture  for  all  time,  the  magic  influence  of  plants 
was  to  them  a  link  connecting  the  two  great  kingdoms  of  life.  One, 
Empedocles,  not  only  maintained  that  plants  possessed  life  and 
sensation,  but  said  he  recollected  the  time  when  he  had  been  a  plant. 
Bespecting  such  a  memory  we  may,  in  the  language  of  Dominie 
Sampson,  say  it  was  “  prodigious  ;  ”  but  the  moral  remains  that  this 
invisible  inter-relationship,  if  it  may  be  so  termed,  is  an  old,  old 
story,  and  probably  goes  back  to  the  “  The  Beginning.” 
A  practical  man  may  possibly  say  that  no  such  absurd  theories  or 
abstruse  thoughts  ever  enter  into  his  calculation.  That  is  a  matter 
for  doubt,  however,  and  possibly  it  is  not  possible  for  a  successful 
gardener  to  pass  on  through  life  dealing  with  these  subtle  forces  of 
Nature  as  mere  inanimate  objects  like  bricks  and  mortar.  What  a 
comparatively  poor  thing  gardening  would  be  if  carried  on  within  the 
boundary  of  such  meagre  mechanical  lines !  There  is  much  in  the 
common  round,  the  daily  task,  which  brings  a  man  in  sympathetic 
touch  with  the  objects  of  his  care,  and  in  some  cases  this  eventually 
results  in  an  apparently  perfect  understanding  between  man  and  plant. 
To  him,  as  a  pupil  of  Nature,  is  given  to  understand  what  must  ever 
remain  a  mystery  to  others,  and  in  the  understanding  his  eyes  are 
opened  to  a  world  of  interest  and  beauty  for  which  he  is  the  better 
gardener  and  the  better  man. — K.,  Dublin. 
- - 
Filmy  Ferns. 
Todeas. 
Todea  superba  and  T.  pellucida  are  natives  of  New  Zealand,  and 
are  the  two  best  varieties  of  Todea  which  require  the  treatment  accorded 
to  Filmy  Ferns.  The  fronds  of  Todea  superba  will  in  a  good  specimen 
grow  from  18  inches  to  2  feet  in  length.  They  spring  direct  from  a 
central  crown  very  closely  together,  gracefully  curving  and  arching 
equally  all  round,  hence  a  plant  requires  considerable  room. 
I  once  had  charge  of  a  fair  sized  Todea  superba,  which  rwas 
established  in  a  9-inch  pot,  and  this  stood  in  a  deep,  wide  gla*s  case, 
with  a  movable  top  like  a  hand-glass.  It  had,  however,  to  be  shaded 
in  bright  weather  with  tiffany,  and  at  all  times  care  was  given  to  see 
that  the  necessary  moisture  was  accorded  the  fronds.  This,  however, 
had  to  be  done  by  gently  spraying.  Of  course  the  plants  succeed  well 
in  a  thoroughly  humid  atmosphere  where  they  can  receive  their 
moisture  in  a  condensed  form.  The  compost  for  growing  the  plants 
should  be  highly  porous,  and  may  consist  of  turfy  peat,  loam,  leaf  soil, 
in  equal  parts,  with  a  free  admixture  of  chopped  sphagnum  moss, 
broken  sandstone,  and  silver  sand.  Similar  treatment  in  every  respect 
suits  T.  pellucida.  The  fronds  of  this  variety  are  more  branching  and 
loose,  but  yet  are  peculiarly  beautiful  and  transparent,  growing  about 
18  inches  in  length. 
Hymenophyllum  tunbridgrense. 
This  is  one  of  the  Filmy  Ferns,  and  is  hardy  in  situations  where 
it  grows  freely  and  luxuriates.  The  fronds  are  of  a  feathery  character, 
delicate  in  construction,  and  membranous,  growing  to  the  height  of 
3  or  4  inches  only.  The  compost  best  suited  for  the  cultivation  of 
this  Fern  consists  of  a  porous  mixture  of  peat,  loam,  sweet  leaf  soil, 
charcoal,  broken  pieces  of  saudstone,  and  plenty  of  silver  sand. 
Although  in  its  native  habitat  this  Fern  is  hardy,  growing  as  it 
does  in  very  sheltered  positions  under  and  among  rocks  and  other 
well  protected  interstices  on  the  banks  of  streams,  under  ordinary 
cultivation  it  is  not  desirable  to  grow  it  without  some  temporary 
protection,  such  as  can  be  afforded  by  a  good  deep  frame  or  pit  or 
Fern  case.  The  glass  can  always  be  protected  in  severe  weather,  and 
the  plant  is  easily  shaded  from  sun.  The  latter  is  a  most  essential 
point,  as  Filmy  Ferns  can  only  thrive  in  the  best  manner  when 
constantly  shielded  from  direct  sunshine,  though  in  ommon  with  other 
plants  they  like  light.  Give  them  plenty  of  water,  and  maintain  the 
surroundings  and  atmosphere  damp.  This  is  a  suitable  time  to  plant 
or  establish  divisions  in  a  Fern  case,  in  a  shaded  window,  or  in  an 
appropriate  position  in  a  hardy  fernery.  It  may  also  be  established 
in  a  pan  covered  with  a  bell-glass.  Little  ventilation  is  required,  a 
few  minutes  daily  being  all  that  is  necessary. 
Trichomanes  radicans. 
This  Filmy  Fern  is  popularly  known  as  the  Killarney  or  Bristle 
Fern,  Ireland  being  the  chief  place  in  which  it  has  been  found  in 
Europe.  It  is  not  quite  hardy,  but  requires  very  little  protection. 
The  fronds  are  beautifully  divided  and  are  almost  transparent.  It 
is  a  splendid  Fern  for  a  close  glass  case,  a  large  bell-glass,  or  a 
shady  moist  spot  in  a  cool  fernery.  Tne  compost  most  suitable 
consists  of  peat,  loam,  leaf  soil,  broken  charcoal,  and  sandstone,  mixed 
well  with  silver  sand.  The  fronds  rise  from  creeping  rhizomes,  and  in 
planting,  these  rhizomes  should  be  pegged  down  securely  in  the 
compost  on  or  near  the  surface,  not  burying  them.  Keep  the  atmo¬ 
sphere  constantly  saturated  with  moisture,  which  is  better  for  the 
Ferns  than  syringing  them.  They  6eem  to  better  appreciate  the 
deposition  of  moisture  by  this  means  than  by  any  other.  Shade  from 
uirect  sunshine  is  most  essential,  hence  when  growing  under  bell- 
glasses  or  in  Fern  cases,  these  receptacles  ought  to  have  a  position  in 
a  north  window  or  aspect,  so  as  to  render  the  necessity  for  shading 
nil— E.  D.  S. 
