and shape and size, is marvellous. There are some pretty little gourds which do not weigh more than half an ounce when ripe; while, on the other hand, there are kinds with fruit almost large enough to make a sponge bath. Eggs, bottles, gooseberries, clubs, caskets, folded umbrellas, balls, vases, urns, small balloons—all have their likenesses in the gourd family. Those who have seen a good collection of them will be able to understand Nathaniel Hawthorne’s enthusiasm about these quaint and graceful vegetable forms when he says: “A hundred gourds in my garden were worthy, in my eyes at least, of being rendered indestructible in marble. If ever Providence (but I know it never will) should assign me a superfluity of gold, part of it shall be expended for a service of plate, or most delicate porcelain, to be wrought into the shape of gourds gathered from vines which I will plant with my own hands. As dishes for containing vegetables they would be peculiarly appropriate. Gazing at them, I felt that by my agency something worth living for had been done. A new substance was born into the world. They were real and tangible existences, which the mind could seize hold of and rejoice in.” Of course the climate of New England is much better suited for fully developing the gourd tribe than ours, but it is satisfactory to know that they may be readily and beautifully grown in this country.
There are many positions in gardens in which they might be grown with great advantage; on low trellises, depending from the edges of raised beds, the smaller and medium-sized kinds trained over arches or arched trellis-work, covering banks, or on the ordinary level earth of the garden. Isolated, too, some kinds would look very effective, and in fact there is hardly any limit to the uses to which they might be applied. In the Royal Botanic Gardens at Dublin, there is a singular wigwam made by placing a number of dead branches so as to form the framework, and then planting Aristolochia Sipho all round these. It runs over them, and the large leaves make a perfect summer roof. A similar tent might be made with the free-growing gourds, and it would have the additional merit of suspending some of the most singular, graceful, and gigantic of all known fruits from the roof. A few words on their culture, and a selection of kinds, occur at the end of the book.
Although some Ferns are named in the descriptive part of this book, it is desirable to allude to the family here. Why do we always put ferns in the shade, when many of the best and hardiest kinds grow freely in the full sun if sufficiently moist at the root? Why do we always confine them to the fernery proper, when there are so many other places that could be graced by their presence? The very highest beauty of form might be added to beds of low flowers, by the introduction of such ferns as the Struthiopteris, Pteris, Lastrea, etc., while they should also be freely planted in various parts of the pleasure-ground, either alone, or grouped with the Acanthuses and other hardy fine-leaved plants. Not a few of the Umbelliferous plants recommended have foliage as finely cut as any of the Ferns, and would associate very well with them. Even in cases where the soil might not be suitable for ferns, it would, instead of confining them to the fernery proper, be much better to arrange for having small groups or beds of them in places alongside of shady wood-walks or similar positions. By reference to the Osmunda article, it will be seen how these have been grown to magnificent proportions. It may be easily imagined that groups of fine ferns, grown to the luxuriance there described, would contrast with and relieve groups of the brilliant flowers in a superb way.
As the culture of most of the subjects has been sufficiently spoken of in the descriptive part, it is needless to say much of it here, but a few general remarks may help to make the matter clearer to the amateur. It is hoped that the greater number of the hardy subjects enumerated will sufficiently prove that it is not only those persons who have streets of glass-houses to whom the luxury of “subtropical gardening” is accessible. Once placed in suitable soil and position, these hardy kinds may, as a rule, be left to take care of themselves.
A great number of subjects, like the Ricinus and the Annuals, may be considered practically hardy, inasmuch as they only require to be raised in warm or cool frames, or even (some of them) in the open air. When once planted out for the summer, they give but little further trouble.
In the next group may be placed the tender greenhouse kinds; long-lived subjects, like the Dracænas, American Aloe, etc., which thrive in greenhouses or conservatories in winter, and are great ornaments there, and which may be placed in the open air in summer without the least injury. Next to the hardy group, this is the most important, from the fact that the subjects are effective at all seasons of the year, and useful indoors as well as without. They also, unlike the following, may be enjoyed by every one who possesses any kind of a cool glazed structure; and even, in some cases, this is not needed, for I have seen some very fine specimens of Agave americana kept in a large entrance hall in winter, and put out of doors in May to be taken in again in October.
Lastly, we have the least important group of all, and happily also the most costly, viz., those plants which must be kept through the winter and spring in warm stoves, such as Ferdinanda, Solanum, etc. Considering the vast number of hardy and half-hardy plants from which we may select, this type is not worthy of encouragement in gardens generally, with the exception of a few fine things, such as Polymnia grandis. They may, for the sake of convenience, be considered in two sections: those, like the Polymnia, that should be put out in a young state, and which make a fresh and handsome growth during the summer months; and those which, like the Monstera and Anthurium acaule, make no growth whatever during that season. It need not be said that the first section is by far the most important: it comprises the Wigandia, and some of the noblest things used in this way. Plants of the other section can, in the nature of things, be tried in but few places in this country; they are too expensive, and they are not the most effective: but some persons no doubt may take a pleasure in showing what will endure the open air, even if useless for any other purpose. One general rule may be applied to these last-named subjects—they should be allowed to make a strong growth in the hothouse in spring or early summer, and to mature, and, so to speak, harden off that growth before being placed in the open air early in June, or even later if the season be unfavourable.
Speaking generally of all the tender subjects used, it is necessary to discriminate between kinds that should be planted out in a young state every year, and those which are valuable in proportion to their age and size. Some plants are all the better the higher and larger they are grown; others must be started in a dwarf fresh state every year, or, if not, their foliage will not possess that pristine freshness which charms us when they are properly treated. A large plant of Polymnia grandis, for example, would, if placed in the open air in early summer, speedily become a far from attractive object, while a young plant of the same kind, put out on the same day, would soon produce and carry to the end of the season a mass of fresh and noble leaves. But of course this only applies to kinds that grow rapidly during the summer months in our climate.
With respect to the preparation of the beds for the finer subtropical plants, a peculiar mode is practised in Battersea Park. Here many of the beds are raised above the level of the ground, and underneath and around the mass of light rich soil is a good layer of brick-rubbish, as shown in the accompanying engraving. The soil is first excavated and thrown round the margin of the bed; then the brick-rubbish is put in on the bottom and
around the sides also, raising the bed somewhat above the level of the ground; the cavity in the centre is then filled up, generally with fine light rich soil, using as much of the soil that was dug out as is fit to be used, and arranging the remainder round the edge of the raised bed, covering it neatly with turf. The soil may vary in depth from three feet to eighteen inches, according to the kinds of plants to be grown in it. In this way, by presenting a larger surface to the sun, it is considered that a greater amount of heat is obtained; but I certainly think the advantages of the method are not so great in this way as is generally supposed, and that it is quite