called, was at its height in Holland and naturally affected this country. Bulbs were changing hands there at prices ranging from 2,000 to 4,600 florins, and Lindley writes that their value 'rose above that of the most precious metals.' 'But it was not in mere flower-growing that men indulged. Many collectors were at work, notably the three generations of Tradescants, throughout the reigns of James I. and Charles I. The first botanical garden was begun at Oxford in 1632, and thirty years later the first flower-shows were held at Norwich. Attention was also paid to the best means of getting rid of garden pests, while the due ordering of bees was considered to be part of a gardener's duties, and beehives were to be found in all gardens. Nor did fruit culture escape attention. James I. had done much to promote the growth of the mulberry by importing trees in great numbers from France; but orchards were now planted with greater skill, the distance between the trees was more considered, and pruning and grafting were studied in connexion with wall-fruit and espaliers. The Black Hart cherry is spoken of at this time as a very special fruit'; several varieties of nectarines and figs are also referred to; and among peaches, the nutmeg and Newington were considered a very large and gallant fruit.'

6

The Dutch influence grew stronger with the advent of William III., and left its mark on many a garden and park. Topiary work was carried to excess; fountains came still more into fashion, and the knotte was replaced by the parterre, 'furnished with greens and flowers,' or 'cut out curiously,' as Hanmer tells us, 'into embroidery of flowers, and shapes of arabesques, animals, or birds, or feuillages.' Gardens were laid out of much larger size; attempts were here and there made to get still further away from the old formality, and a desire to see beyond the confines of the garden was evinced that was destined before long to alter its character altogether. So large were many of the new gardens, that their owners found it no longer possible to keep them trim and neat. The gardens of the Duke of Montague in Northamptonshire covered more than a hundred acres, and others were being laid out of from fifty to eighty acres. The avenues in the park were planted so as to fall in with the plan of the garden; and the straight walks of the garden, which belonged especially to Queen Anne's time, were edged with trees, kept clipped, so that the eye might be led to some distant point in the park beyond. But while clipping thus remained in fashion, people grew tired of the hedge and the alley and turned their attention instead to clipping single trees and shrubs. To such an extent was this carried that it became

at

at last ridiculous. Many turned it into fun altogether, and Pope's satirical remarks on the verdant sculpture' of the period shows how the custom was regarded in some quarters. An artist puts out a catalogue of his productions, the same being offered for sale.

'Adam and Eve in yew, Adam a little shattered by the fall of the tree of knowledge in the great storm; Eve and the serpent very flourishing. St. George in box, his arm scarce long enough, but will be in condition to stick the dragon by next April; a green dragon of the same, with a tail of ground ivy for the present (N.B.-these two not to be sold separately). Divers eminent modern poets in bays, somewhat blighted, to be disposed of a pennyworth. A quickset hog shot up into a porcupine, by its being forgot in rainy weather.'

In spite, however, of this craze, there was an increasing desire for the so-called 'natural garden,' and the development of landscape-gardening thus induced led to the destruction of many old-fashioned gardens throughout the country: walls were thrown down, terraces swept away, clipped hedges which had stood for generations were destroyed, and it seemed as if, in that oft-quoted expression of Horace Walpole, people had in their haste leaped the fence' with Kent, and found that all nature was a garden.' But if the discovery thus suddenly made was the cause of some loss, something also was gained. The distance, with its lights and shades, its blue hills, hanging woods, and grassy undulations, and occasionally, too, that which is often sorely missed in our English landscape-a river or a lake—were thrown open to the garden, and the discovery of the uses of the ha-ha, cunningly devised, did away with many of the hard lines, the boundaries and conventionalities to which people had been so long accustomed.

There was thus something almost approaching an outcry against the former artificiality; but a remedy was not immediately discovered: far from it. People destroyed in hot haste; but the early days of landscape-gardening were marked, for all that, by an artificiality scarcely less than that which had to be got rid of, and in striving after originality the landscape-gardener fell too often into a miserable affectation. His efforts to achieve great things led to a wild and ill-considered policy of destruction, as irreparable as it was deplorable; and, in looking back, we cannot forgive the blindness that was unable to appreciate the beauty of the old style, any more than we can condone the conceit that could look upon an artificial stream and exclaim, 'Thames! Thames! thou wilt never forgive me!' 'Capability' Brown and his successor Repton were the agents who robbed posterity of beautiful old-fashioned gardens, in every

county

county in England; and on this account, if on no other, we agree heartily with Miss Amherst when she writes, that we should be thankful indeed that a few people were left of sufficient strength of mind to resist the all-powerful Brown.' For a time the new fashion reigned well-nigh supreme; but there followed a reaction, and doubts by degrees arose as to whether all that was being done was so absolutely in the right direction as many supposed,-whether there was not something palpably weak and unreal after all in the 'natural landscape' in which many a fine mansion found itself standing naked. It was well it was so. All that Brown and his following achieved is not to be condemned, but we rejoice that the close of the last century and the beginning of this were marked by a happy desire to bring the surroundings of the garden into harmony with the garden itself, without sacrificing the whole of the work of former times to the axe and the saw, the navvy and the tipcart. By this means many perfect examples of the old-fashioned gardens of England were preserved to us, and, as we saunter through them now under shelter of their tall clipped hedges or by their bright herbaceous borders, they charm us by reason of their quaintness, they satisfy us because of the things that they tell us, and we love them for their peace and quietude, and for the old-world grace and beauty that they wear.

The history of the garden is a fascinating study; and if space forbids more than a passing reference to the various periods into which that history may be divided, we may still see how gradual and how steady the progress has been, and for this reason may the better appreciate the wonders of our own days. Not only is our wealth in flowers greater than it has ever been before in our history, but the love of flowers and of gardening is more general, and a rudimentary knowledge of horticulture is now possessed by every class. Nor is this all. Enterprise, backed by knowledge and by money, constantly adds to our already bewildering mass of possessions; and, as each year gives us something new and still more beautiful, we begin to realize at last that here there is no finality-that Nature's wealth is illimitable; that grace and texture, variation in form, and beauty in the endless combination of colour will go on and on; and that in no single instance will Nature ever repeat herself, because the source from which she draws is as infinite as it is invisible.

It is only necessary to look at the new hybrids that are constantly appearing in order to realize the truth of this. Not only are roses, chrysanthemums, begonias, primulas, dahlias, carnations, geraniums, and a whole host of equally familiar flowers, Vol. 184.-No. 367. increasing

F

increasing in number and variety each year, but we begin to experience some difficulty in finding room for those we already have. Our beds and our borders become crowded, and yet we are always meeting with plants we should like to possess and might easily grow; while, as if in despair of keeping pace with the times, societies are formed which devote themselves to the cultivation of some particular flower; firms associate themselves primarily with roses, lilies, chrysanthemums, or orchids, and are recognised as authorities; and costly illustrated books make their appearance at such frequent intervals that in some directions they bid fair to develope into libraries with the varieties of one flower as their subject. No pains, or ingenuity, or money are spared, and unique specimens are searched for in the most distant parts of the world. The outlay is in some cases enor.mous. Orchids may have little to do with our subject, their cultivation being a very special branch of the gardener's art, yet it is well we should refer to the enormous sums that are expended in forming a collection of these fascinating flowers. Syndicates are constituted for their importation, and a number of skilled collectors, who often carry their lives in their hands, are always at work in the East Indies, in Mexico, in the hot, steamy swamps of Brazil, in Madagascar, searching for new specimens: 20,000l. and more, it is said, may be easily spent upon a collection; 310 guineas have been paid for a Cypripedium Stonei, 300 for Vanda Sanderiana, 235 for Aerides Laurenciæ, 220 for Cattleya Mendelli Bluntii, and the prices of a large number of others range from 100 to 200 guineas a plant. Such sums must be left to the millionaire; but unique specimens of almost any plant always now command the highest prices; and if the trade' is always searching for something new, the public is ever ready to buy. Thus, though few may give the prices just quoted, scores of people were ready to pay ten guineas for the bulbs of the Lilium auratum when it first appeared, from ten to twelve guineas for the L. Lowi, or three for the Henryi or yellow lily of China, just as there are numbers content to pay a guinea apiece for the bulbs of new varieties.

But the actual sums of money spent on plants and flowers— and we have recently witnessed some startling instances-is not the most remarkable side of the question. It is the universal and real love of flowers that we meet with wherever we look, no less than the way in which this love is being fostered and encouraged, that strikes us, far more than the mere lavishness that borders too often on a vulgar ostentation. Go where we will now, in town or country, we are continually made aware of it. Everywhere our public parks are beautified; everywhere,

in default of other means of flower-growing, we are conscious of the window-box; the backyard in the suburbs is often brightened by a flower-bed; and if there is a patch of ground in front of the semi-detached villa, it too has its flowers, the grass plot is mown with a diminutive machine, and the ubiquitous ampelopsis set to cover the wall. The beauty of cottage gardens -their history dates from Tudor times-is proverbial; and to go into the country to-day, especially westward, where the soil and climate are kind, is to find there gardens growing brighter each year: there is always room for flowers in spite of the possible claims of a 'long' family and the consequent demand for potatoes, and annuals and perennials grow strong and together, like the roses that climb the wall to the thatch or the honeysuckle embowering the porch. In many parts of England now the village flower-show is becoming an annual event, and each year such shows grow more common both in town and country. In June we are met by the rose shows, and we close the list with the chrysanthemums and fruit of November. There are prizes open to every class, and the encouragement thus given cannot be unattended with results, especially where the professional and the amateur have equally a place. But encouragement does not begin and end with the shows. Our municipalities, our town councils and corporations, the leading industrial companies and the great manufacturers, alike give assistance and support; and the result is that, whether at the gas-works or the water-works, at the docks or by the locks of the river or canal, about the factory walls or in front of the hospital, on the platforms of the railway station or at the foot of the solitary lighthouse of the coast, flowers have everywhere a place, and give their life to beautify, if it be possible, surroundings that are of necessity tame and commonplace.*

The

As an instance, we may cite two of the great railway companies. Great Western and the Midland offer sums of money annually to encourage platform gardens. In the case of the former company a regular system has been in operation for eighteen years, 2501. being voted annually for the purpose. The line is divided into twelve sections. To each a special prize of 51. is awarded, and there are 165 ordinary prizes, ranging from 31. to 108., a list of the successful stations being published each year. A circular is also sent round furnishing a complete list of plants suitable for various purposes-for permanent borders, for summer bedding, for mixed borders of hardy plants, for spring bedding, as well as a list of evergreens and creepers, together with particulars as to height, colour, dates for sowing, and many other necessary hints. The Midland Railway devote 2007. in the same way, the prizes ranging from 71. 108. to 58. A fully qualified inspector, whose duties take him to every part of the line, is deputed to deal with the matter, and the whole scheme is pro nounced a success. The Great Northern and the London and North-Western companies let allotments to their men where possible, the number of allotments in the case of the former company reaching very nearly 2,500. F 2

And