Trees and Shrubs for English Gardens

Increasing Hardy Shrubs

The best of our hardy flowering shrubs are grouped under seven natural orders, and a knowledge of the order to which a plant belongs is in most cases a guide to its propagation, as the majority of the species contained in an order are, as a rule, increased by the same methods.

Berberideæ.—This contains Akebia and Berberis, which are propagated by seeds, cuttings, or layers. Berberis stenophylla and B. Neuberti do not come true from seed, so that one or both of the other methods mentioned above must be adopted.

Leguminosæ.—In this order such genera as Cytisus (Broom), Genista (Rock Broom), Spartium (Spanish Broom), Ononis, Indigofera, Colutea (Bladder Senna), Caragana (Siberian Pea tree), and Cercis (Judas tree) should be raised from seed, which is the quickest and best method of propagation. Cuttings of certain forms of Cytisus and Genista will root readily, but the plants will sometimes die off just as they have attained flowering size. Ulex (Furze, Whin, or Gorse) is propagated by seeds or cuttings, and Wistarias by seeds or by layering.

Rosaceæ.—This includes Prunus, the shrubby forms of which can, in the majority of cases, be increased by cuttings or layers; Spiræa and Kerria (Jews' Mallow), cuttings of which root readily at almost any time of the year; Exochorda (Pearl Bush), must be raised from seed to do any good; Rubus (Brambles), some of which can be propagated by suckers, and the remainder by pegging the points of the shoots down to form young plants; Rosa (Rose), the species of which should be increased by seeds, cuttings, or layers, though seeds will not always come true, as Roses become hybridised very readily; and Cotoneaster, which are increased by seeds, cuttings, or layers.

Saxifrageæ.—In this order Hydrangea, Deutzia, Philadelphus (Mock Orange), Escallonia, and Ribes (Flowering Currant) are included. All are easily propagated by cuttings taken in almost any season of the year. With the exception of Hydrangea, which should be struck under glass, all the members of this order root readily outdoors in the winter.

Caprifoliaceæ.—This order contains such genera as Sambucus (Elder), Viburnum, Lonicera (Honeysuckle), Symphoricarpus (Snowberry tree), Abelia, Leycesteria, and Diervilla (Weigela). All are easily propagated by cuttings or by layering. The cuttings can be taken at almost any time of the year, and root quickly, the young plants attaining a good size by the end of the second year.

Ericaceæ.—This order includes all the so-called American plants, such as Pernettya, Gaultheria, Leucothoë, Andromeda, Pieris, Zenobia, Erica (Heath), Calluna (Common Heather, Ling), Kalmia, Ledum, Clethra, and Rhododendron (including Azalea). These can all be increased by seeds, layering, and, in addition, the first two by division of the old plants. Erica and Calluna can also be increased by cuttings. Seedlings, of course, make the best plants, but layering is a quicker method, and, in the case of some of the smaller Ericaceæ, one of the easiest. All the Rhododendrons will not root from cuttings, though some of the small-flowered ones strike easily, but practically all may be increased from layers. A few of the showy garden forms cannot be raised from layers, and have to be grafted on stocks of the common R. ponticum or R. catawbiense.

Oleaceæ.—This includes both deciduous flowering shrubs and ornamental evergreens, such as Syringa (Lilac), Chionanthus (Fringe tree), Jasminum (Jasmine), Forsythia, Ligustrum (Privet), Phillyræa (P. decora (vilmoriniana) is so easily raised from seeds or cuttings that it is foolish to graft it on the common privet), and Osmanthus being represented. The first two are best propagated by seeds or layers, though the named garden Lilac is usually grafted on stocks of the common S. vulgaris, a silly practice. It is a pitiful business keeping down suckers from grafted plants. Ask for Lilacs on their own roots, and much vexation will be saved. A garden should be a place of rest and pleasure, not a hunting-ground for suckers. The other genera are readily raised by cuttings taken at almost any time of the year, or by layering.

Although the above orders include a considerable number of our best shrubs, several plants must be specially mentioned. The Clematis is increased by seeds, cuttings, or layers in the case of the species, but unfortunately the garden forms are usually grafted on C. Viticella or C. Flammula, whereas many can be propagated by cuttings, and practically all will root when layered.

TULIP TREE AT RANELAGH (Winter).

In the absence of seeds the following genera must be propagated by layers, viz., Aucuba, Chimonanthus (Winter Sweet), Halesia (Snowdrop tree), Hamamelis (Witch Hazel), Hippophaë (Sea Buckthorn), and Myrica (Candleberry Myrtle). Cuttings of the first will root readily enough, but never seem to succeed afterwards. The female form of Hippophaë is best raised from layers, as seedlings usually give a large percentage of male plants. Aralia and Rhus (Sumach) are increased by seeds or root-cuttings; Buddleia japonica is best raised from seeds, and the other Buddleias from cuttings; and practically all other hardy shrubs that have not been specially mentioned are easily propagated by seeds, cuttings, or layers, and the majority of them by all three methods.

If it is impossible to increase a tree or shrub by any other means than by the three methods mentioned, then resort to budding or grafting.

WINTER BEAUTY OF LIME.

CHAPTER VIII

"You see, it takes a deal of insight to know what's a-going to be," was a remark, half-apologetic, half-regretful, often made by an old gardener of a school now gone by, when matters horticultural went somewhat athwart of his calculations. The words recur to mind as containing a germ of truth beyond the meaning of the speaker. It has been well said with regard to deeper matters that foresight must spring from insight, and it may be taken also as a foundation principle of good gardening. For just in proportion as we use our faculties of insight and foresight will our gardens grow, more or less, into a perfect expression of our sense of the ever-changeful, never-ending beauty of Nature.

It must be no cursory glance given to get rid of an unwelcome duty. We must look deep into the meaning of things as they are—a meaning which never lies wholly on the surface—before we can forecast them as they are going to be, and such insight rarely comes by intuition. The seeing eye is given only to a few, though with some it is but sleep-holden and needs no more than to be awakened.

The things that are and the things that are to be. Let us take the thought as company and try to glean some of Nature's own lessons of fitness. How instinctively we seek, for a winter ramble, the shelter of the woodland copse, which is not far distant from any English country habitation. The broad grass drive is hoar with frosty rime in the shadow of the bushes and crisp under foot. Under the trees the ground on either side is carpeted with Ivy. The lithe, trailing stems, wreathed with their shining, taper-fingered leaves, so exquisitely pencilled, are cushioned on the soft, feathery moss, or twine in and out amongst the Hazel stocks, or creep at will up the nearest tree trunk. One can scarcely look at Ivy on a winter's day without a thrill of admiration, especially this woodland sort, for, mark it well, Nature never encourages the coarse-leaved Ivy of common cultivation within her domains. How perfect in its grace is this fine-leaved Ivy, how utterly content with its surroundings, how resolutely cheerful, be the circumstances of weather or situation what they may! Clinging lowly to the ground or mounting to the topmost branch of some tall Pine, it is equally at home, and why should we not agree with that good naturalist, Charles Waterton, in his assertion that forest tree was never injured by its clasping stems? An English plant for our English climate, it may be used to make beautiful an unsightly building, to clothe a decaying tree stump, as bush or border or mantle, in a hundred different ways, yet it is never out of character, and never touches a jarring note.

Then those tall Hollies, see how dauntlessly they stand up above the undergrowth of Hazel. How living and warm, in their ruddy glow, are the clustering berries in the glint of the fearless leaves. For expedience sake, their lower branches have been trimmed away, and greatly we gain by it, for otherwise that lovely contrast of their ashen-grey stems would be hidden from our eyes; but over yonder a fine old Holly tree stands alone, which axe and knife have left untouched, and how graceful is the curven sweep of its feathering boughs. No foreign evergreen can excel it for symmetry of form or winter garniture of leaf and fruit. Life is astir, too, in the brown twigs of the Hazel bushes. The infant year is not more than a week or two old, yet already the tasselled catkins are swinging in the lightest rustle of the sighing wind, and begin to lift up their tiers of small woolly cowls to set free the yellow pollen-dust. And so we may go on our way, and, at every turn, some rugged Yew, or clump of red-stemmed Scotch Fir, or tapering Spruce with hanging russet cones, will stay our steps, and if we look and listen, they will tell us in their own way the story of their perfect fitness for our homely English landscape. Or, if we chance to be in one of the chalky districts of the South Downs, we may come upon Box, the ever young, as it was called of yore, or Juniper, in its bloom of silver grey, as precious as any, to add to the tale of our best native evergreens.

Now it is to a wise choice of evergreens and to their rightful placing that we must look for the basis of our content in the winter garden. The insight of our forefathers foresaw the solid comfort of the rampart of Yew which was fostered of old in many a manor-house garden. It caused them to fence about their dwellings on north and east with a belt of sturdy timber trees, to meet and ward off in their pliant strength the roughest winter gales. It planned the sheltered nut-walk and the pleached alley and the cosy settle, carved out of the thick Box bushes, on the grassy verge of the bowling-green. They took of the materials at hand, and many have since their day blessed the foresight which planted, not only for themselves, but for their children's children. That they were not blind to the rare beauty of foreign trees many a magnificent Cedar of Lebanon and massive Holm Oak or deciduous tree—like the fine Tulip trees at Mackery End, beloved of Charles Lamb—bear noble testimony to this hour.

Nothing, perhaps, in the wide range of garden beauty is more pictorial than an ancient Cedar, dusky and glaucous, with cavernous shadows, holding upright the smooth, pale-brown, rounded cones on its flattened branches, or some grand Silver Fir standing alone in its solemn symmetrical beauty, or even, as may now and then be seen, though rarely, some stately Araucaria, wind-sheltered, whose radiating branches sweep down upon the greensward. Others there are, no less pictorial perhaps, nor even less exacting, for none can do without the shelter of a good position, such as the Stone Pines, with corrugated trunk and green spreading head; or again, the graceful fragrant Cypress (C. lawsoniana) of more recent date, with its slender pyramidal growth and drooping feathery branches, taking on at the close of winter the ruby-red of the catkins which tell of the coming of the small, bloom-powdered cones.

The desperate hurry, the incessant crowding out of the times in which we live, give little encouragement to the sentiment of planting for posterity, yet some such planting is continually being done. This much must be said, that the last fifty years have seen the introduction of numberless fine trees and shrubs, the fitness of which for our climate time alone could test. During that period in England, the Mammoth tree of the Yosemite Valley (Sequoia gigantea) has been planted in its thousands, and by irony of fate, the giant not seldom finds itself cramped within the limits of a half-acre plot. But leaving out the question of space, it is a tree utterly unsuited to our northern climate, unless under exceptional circumstances, as its scorched and fretted branches on the windward side sufficiently prove; while in itself it is not nearly so grand or suggestive as its near-of-kin, the beautiful Californian Redwood (S. sempervirens).

Ah! that burning question of space, how it comes between us and our highest garden aspirations! Have we not all seen the Deodar or the Araucaria trying to exist in a narrow, twelve-foot forecourt, and smiled, if we have not rather been ready to weep, over the crass absurdity of its position? But such mistakes are made every day. Let us think, then, before we plant, of the things that are going to be, and take prudent counsel with ourselves.

Our garden resources, nowadays, are beyond all calculation greater than those of our forefathers, and we rejoice and are glad because of it; but we should let nothing oust from our affections the hardy trees and shrubs, native and naturalised, that are at home in our climate, beautiful in themselves and invaluable in their fitness to give shelter to the more fastidious immigrants from other latitudes.

Shelter, in fact, is as the keynote to the winter garden. Beauty is killed when leaves that should be green and smiling are bruised and brown, when boughs that should be perfect in grace and curve are twisted and tortured. We may be very sure, too, that such symptoms of discomfort in our gardens will re-act in disquiet on ourselves, whereas the mere sight of tree or bush standing firm in its green bravery through storm and stress tends, it may be unawares, to brace and uplift. Even the familiar Laurel, good as it is when suitably placed, and used not too freely, is constantly scathed and disfigured in damp or low-lying localities. For the same reason, it is doubtful whether Rhododendrons should be planted within range of our windows. Most of them, in severe weather, frightened before they are hurt, put on a melancholy air and droop of leaf which is apt to send a shiver through any shrinking mortal whose vitality is already low enough.

The bare boughs of winter, on the contrary, are never depressing. They sleep, but it is not the sleep of death; they rest, but while they are resting, we feel that the mystery of life silently works out the fulfilment of the promise of re-awakening. Meanwhile, before the veil of leafage hides so much else that is beautiful from our eyes, we see the things that are, tree trunks in all their majesty of girth and column and fencing bark, the net-work of budding spray, each after its kind distinct, yet each in its own form perfect. Even in mid-winter, the brown gummy buds of the Horse Chestnuts begin to swell at the ends of the swaying boughs, and the Ash-buds, as they make ready to burst their bonds, put on a deeper hue.

The Beeches keep their silken green tight shut within their scale-bound points, and will not let it unfold an hour too soon; but look at the lovely colouring, now silvern, now golden green, of the Lichen-stains on the smooth grey bark. Contrast it with the deeply-chiselled ribs of the Sweet Chestnut, the rugged armour-plates of the Oak, the thin white tissue of the dainty Silver Birch. It is this diversity, these contrasts, which make up the charm of winter, while the sombre green of Fir and Yew intermingling with the leafless trees gives just the touch of warmth and comfort which winter lacks. If any of these bless our gardens with their gracious presence, let us hesitate long before any trivial inconvenience tempts us into doing away with them. A single group of Silver Birches, one spreading Beech, a clump of Scotch Fir, with a stretch of grass beneath them, is more precious to look out upon in the winter garden than all the borders and rockeries that can be devised. Urge as we may, however, for their own sake, the fitness and constant delight of our native trees and evergreen shrubs, we plead for them, no less, because by their well-advised use our sheltered gardens may become congenial abiding-places for the strangers we may invite within our gates.

Do we profit as much as we might by the wealth of garden beauty, in the way of trees and shrubs, which for every intent and purpose lies within our reach?

Take Magnolias, for example. They are not sub-tropical trees, as we are apt to think, but fairly hardy, and the Laurel Magnolia, so well known as a beautiful covering for a south wall, is seldom enough seen in standard form. Yet it is one of the most stately of evergreen trees, and it would be hard to find one more worthy of a good position, sheltered from north and easterly winds. The whole outline of the tree is noble, with its broad, shining, russet-backed leaves, a delight to look upon in winter—nor is it shy, when full-grown, of bearing in late summer its scented ivory-white lily-cups. It is too much, however, to expect the lovely-sculptured, crimson-flushed cones, which in warmer climates than ours open about November to disclose their hanging scarlet seeds. Some of the deciduous Magnolias, too, such as the fine Chinese Yulan (M. conspicua) and the bushy white-flowered Japanese species (M. stellata), are full of interest, even while lifeless. All through the winter we may watch the gradual filling out of the hairy, conical flower-bracts, until at length, in very early spring, the impatient buds can contain themselves no longer, and all too soon, sometimes, push them off altogether that they may creep out of their prison bands.

Every one has his private calendar, and reckons the seasons by a computation of his own, but we may safely say that four long months, if no more, separate the falling of the leaf from its coming again. Perhaps we ought not to include Magnolias amongst hibernal flowers, though the trees are often white with blossom before the Larch is green; but the list of shrubs which bloom, or are bright with coloured fruit during those four months, would surprise most people who think of winter only as the dead season. The boughs of Sea Buckthorn are loaded with orange berries. Clusters of scarlet peep out of the fresh green of the Skimmia bushes and, so long as the birds do not find them out, Pernettya carries a crop of purple and crimson and pink fruit more showy than the modest white flowers of summer. When November days are growing dark, Coronilla, in sheltered spots, puts forth its pale clustering yellow flowers. Winter Jasmine, if the flowering branches are not ruthlessly pruned away in autumn, covers its long green shoots with golden stars. The evergreen Clematis (C. calycina) is never happier than when clinging to some terrace balustrade where it may have a little kindly shelter, which it repays by wreathing the stone-work with garlands of finely-cut bronzed foliage, hung with creamy freckled bells. More than one kind of hardy Heath, if grown in spreading masses, will deck the garden with sheets of colour the whole winter through.

The Chinese Honeysuckle (L. Standishii) arrays itself in its fragile white flowers as early as January. Witch Hazels hang their bare branches with twisted petals of gold or amber or, sometimes (as in Hamamelis zuccariniana), borrow the pale-green tint of the under wing of a brimstone butterfly. Soon after Christmas, Mezereon flushes into rosy purple, and bushes of Winter-sweet (Chimonanthus fragrans), independent of a wall (as few people know), will breathe out its perfume from leafless branches studded over with waxen-yellow flowers. It is strange how many of these winter-blooming plants keep their leaves well out of harm's way, brave as their flowers may be. But so it is, and so we learn that if we would gain their fullest winter beauty, we must group them with evergreen shrubs as foil or background.

And what store there is of these to choose from, not green only, but colour-tinged—Berberis of many kinds, the shining ordered leaf-rows of Azara, the purple tints of Mahonia and Gaultheria, the bronze of Andromeda buds, the deep dull green of Osmanthus, the wine red of Leucothoë, the pearl grey of Atriplex, and a hundred more will respond to our beck and call. Only we must choose with judgment, for whether our lot is cast in north or south, in the black east or soft caressing west, makes all the difference to our choosing. Only be sure that more important still than climate are the wind-breaks we can plan, and the shelter we may contrive. Yet when we are in doubt we can always come back with satisfaction to the quick-growing hardiest shrubs and find in them some fit setting for our garden picture. The slender angled branches of green Broom, the rigid spiny Furze, scented Rosemary, or hoary Lavender—all will lend their varied tints and attributes as we need them. And if a pool or stream only gives us opportunity, what can surpass the winter colouring of osier twigs—golden and crimson and olive, mirrored in still water or broken into a thousand reflections by the ripple of a running brook?

Perhaps, amongst all the wealth of winter evergreen shrubs the rank of those which show variegation is too much exaggerated. Popular as they are, the effect is not always good, unless more than ordinary care is taken in their placing. Some few, like the best golden and silver Hollies, are very beautiful, though not all of these are improvements upon the finest green forms. No variegated shrub, probably, is more universally grown than the Aucuba, and it has excellent points; it is hardy in constitution, handsome in outline, and bold of leaf. By ill-luck, as it happened, more than a hundred years ago, the spotted variety was sent home first from Japan, and became domiciled in English gardens and rooted in English affections before the far more worthy green species made its entry.

It is but a private opinion and not given as dogma that it might possibly be a distinct gain to gardens, large and small, if the spotted Aucuba were practically banished and the true green-leaved forms—some of which are generally beautiful when well set with large coral berries—allowed to take its place. The variegated Oleaster (Elæagnus pungens), a remarkably fine shrub when taken by itself, sadly disturbs the repose and dignity of the garden outlook in winter, though doubtless positions might be found in which it would harmonise with its surroundings.

We need only con over, mentally, all the more familiar examples of shrub variegation to find, probably, that we should do as well without a goodly proportion of them, though we may frankly admit some to be very handsome. The secret of our discontent, possibly, lies in the fact that variegation in plants that are normally green is not, in its essence, a sign of health but of wasting sickness. In any case, whatever our feelings may be on this particular point, it is well worth while to weigh the merits of each shrub, variegated or green, before we plant it, not only individually, but in relation to its neighbourhood to other garden associates, and more especially with regard to its winter aspect.

Mr. Bean writes as follows about the winter beauty of trees and shrubs: "Even in November and December there are trees and shrubs that brighten the garden with their coloured bark and fruits. Although not abundant, the members of this class are not used so extensively as they might be.

"Among Willows, for instance, there are the golden and red-barked varieties of Salix vitellina. These, though scarcely ever seen, are capable, when properly treated, of producing bright warm effects that are especially charming from November to February. When allowed to grow naturally this Willow—known popularly as the Golden Osier—forms a graceful tree of large size. Its twigs have a golden or red tinge, according to the variety, but on fully-grown trees these twigs are not large, and as it is, of course, the bark of the preceding summer's growth only that is coloured no very marked colour effect is produced. To obtain a really bright patch of colour it is necessary to plant these Willows in goodly-sized groups and to prune them hard back every spring. By treating them in this way a great cluster of long, wand-like growths is made every year, the bark over the whole of which becomes a bright yellow or red as winter approaches. An effective group is produced by mixing the red and yellow-barked varieties.

"Another striking Willow is Salix daphnoides. The young bark of this species is covered with a thick glaucous or vivid blue-white 'bloom.' S. acutifolia is similarly distinguished, though not quite so markedly. Different from any of these Willows, too, is the variety of S. triandra, with purplish-brown bark. To bring out fully the ornamental qualities of these Willows they should be treated as advised for Salix vitellina. All these Willows are especially charming near the edge of water. Not only are their moisture-loving propensities satisfied, but their beauty is doubled by reflection in the water.

"Somewhat similar to the Willows in the character of their bark, but useful in being adapted for drier situations, are the Cornels (Cornus). The best of the genus in this connexion are Cornus alba and its variety sibirica. They produce bark which for one or two seasons remains a bright red during the time the branches are leafless. A group of Cornus alba, with Chionodoxa Luciliæ or Winter Aconite planted thickly beneath, gives a very pleasing bit of colour early in the year. A yellow-barked form of Cornus stolonifera, known as flaviramea, deserves mention.

"Several shrubs are notable for the particularly bright green of their bark. The forms of Kerria japonica and Neillia are very bright during the winter on this account, but still more effective is a near ally, Stephanandra Tanakæ, a comparatively new shrub, also from Japan, but of little value in any other respect. Finally, I may mention the Rubuses with white stems. As in Salix daphnoides, the bark is covered with the waxy secretion known as 'bloom,' and of a blue-tinted white. Some six or seven species of Rubus have this character. Of those obtainable from nurseries, R. biflorus, a Himalayan species often to be had from dealers under the erroneous name of Rubus leucodermis, is the best. Dr. A. Henry has introduced a Chinese species, Rubus lasiostylus, which is even better than biflorus; the bloom is more distinctly blue, and the stems sturdier and more self-supporting. The species is, however, an extremely rare one in cultivation. It is scarcely necessary to repeat how essential it is that these Brambles and Cornels should be planted in bold groups.

"Among trees the most noteworthy as regards the colour of their bark are the Birches. The beauty of the Common White Birch has not been overlooked by planters. A single specimen or a few grouped together make a bright winter picture when associated with evergreens. The Canoe Birch of North America (Betula papyrifera) has a bark of an even purer white than our native species. The Yellow Birch (B. lutea) shows warm orange-brown tints on the more recently exposed surfaces of its bark. The bark of the River Birch (B. nigra) is not brightly coloured, being of a dull dark brown, but it gives the tree a notably curious aspect owing to the way it stands out from the trunk and branches in great ragged-looking flakes.

A WITCH HAZEL IN FLOWER: HAMAMELIS JAPONICA VAR. ZUCCARINIANA.

A Flower Garden in Winter

"It is possible to make a new feature in gardens by setting apart a piece of ground exclusively for the cultivation of trees, shrubs, and bulbs—in short, any plants that flower or are bright with fruit or bark between, say, the beginning of November and the end of February. One might term it 'an outdoor winter garden.' For the purpose there would be required a well-drained piece of ground, the soil of which was fertile and open. The situation should be fully exposed to the south and west, but guarded well on the north and east sides by a thick belt of evergreen trees and shrubs. The shelter would be still more complete if the site sloped rather steeply to the south-west. Such shelter would be welcome, not only to the plants that grew there, but to those who might visit and tend them. Some of the more noteworthy trees and shrubs with ornamental barks I have already mentioned. Plants that carry their fruit into winter might be included, such as the Hollies, especially the yellow-berried Holly; Cratægus Crus-Galli and C. cordata; Cotoneaster rotundifolia, which is the best of all the Cotoneasters, and frequently carries its bright-scarlet berries till March; and Hippophaë rhamnoides, the Sea Buckthorn, whose orange-coloured fruits are borne in such profusion and retain their colour till past Christmas if the frosts are not too severe. The scarlet-fruited Skimmia japonica and its varieties are very ornamental during the winter months, but of these (as well as the Hippophaë) it is necessary to grow male and female plants together. Groups of variegated evergreens would not only help to give shelter and warmth, but would also add to the brightness of the garden. The best of them are the golden and silver variegated Elæagnuses, the Hollies of a similar character, and the best of the Aucubas, of which there are now some very fine forms; the female plants are also very ornamental as fruit-bearers. Pinus sylvestris aurea, a variety of the Scotch Pine that turns golden in winter but is green at other seasons, and Cupressus macrocarpa lutea are the two best Conifers of their class. Many of the variegated Conifers lose most or all of their colour as autumn and winter approach.

ULMUS ALATA.

"With regard to the trees and shrubs that bear flowers between November and February, the number is not, of course, great; still, they constitute a group that is larger, perhaps, than is generally supposed. The following list, which comprises all that I can call to mind, may be useful even to those who would not intend to bring them together in one spot. Some country houses are only occupied during the shooting and hunting seasons, and these winter-flowering plants are of especial value in such places. The tree or bush Ivies are very beautiful, and may be had in great variety, such as yellow berried, palmata aurea, rhomboidea ovata, and amurensis."

CHAPTER IX

When thinking of trees and shrubs in early spring we must remember those with beautiful catkins. Of the earliest flowering hardy trees and shrubs the majority are those with flowers borne in catkins. Their appearance is one of the first evidences of the approach of spring. It is to the catkin-bearing group that the Poplars, Willows, Birches, and Alders belong. These catkins are pendulous, cylindrical, and often slender inflorescences, carrying flowers of one sex only, which spring from the axils of scaly bracts. Being mainly dependent upon the wind for their fertilisation, they have none of the varied or bright colours that are characteristic of flowers fertilised by insect agency. Often, indeed, sepals and petals are entirely absent. Still, many of these catkin-bearers possess a charm and beauty of their own, which, taken with the early, often inclement, season when they appear, make the best of them indispensable in gardens where early spring effects are desired. As a rule it is the male or pollen-bearing catkins that are most ornamental. They are longer and more graceful than the seed-bearing ones.

Poplars

First among Poplars to bear its flowers, and almost before winter is past, is the Aspen (Populus tremula). This and its weeping variety bear their catkins in February, but closely following it, and perhaps more ornamental, is the American Aspen (P. tremuloides). This species flowers early in March near London in mild seasons, but later further north, and when kept back by severe weather. The pendulous variety of P. tremuloides—known commonly as Parasol de St. Julien—is, at the flowering time, probably the most beautiful and striking of all catkin-bearing trees. This and also the type produce long, slender catkins that sway gently in the softest winds. The weeping variety, which has branches that weep naturally low, looks well by itself on a lawn. In all these Poplars the male catkins are three inches to four inches long, chiefly grey-brown in colour; the scale-like bracts, however, are suffused with a reddish shade. The weeping varieties of these two Aspens are frequently grafted on the White Poplar, which is not a suitable stock. The species to which the varieties severally belong should be used for the purpose. It would be even better if they could be got on their own roots by means of layers or cuttings, and trained up to the required height before allowing the weeping habit to develop.

There are other Poplars that bear their catkins freely, such as P. alba, nigra, and balsamifera, but being of loftier habit they do not show to the same advantage as those of the Aspen group.

Hazels

Between the middle and the end of February the flowers on the catkins of the various species of Corylus begin to expand. Early as that date is, the catkins have, nevertheless, been in evidence since the previous autumn; they were, in fact, formed before the nuts fell. Being comparatively low and shrubby the different varieties of the Hazel (Corylus Avellana) show their catkins to best advantage, and there are few among the catkin-bearers more charming. It is not often that any but the coloured-leaved varieties find a place in the garden proper, but either in the orchard or in the woodland the soft yellow of the Hazel catkins is one of the most pleasing notes of earliest spring. The Tree Hazel (Corylus Colurna), a fine and interesting tree, growing thirty feet or more high, also bears its catkins in February.

Willows

Of the almost innumerable species and varieties of Salix, it is only a few that need be mentioned here for their beauty when in flower. So far as I have been able to judge, the most ornamental of the Willows in catkin time is Salix smithiana, known also as S. mollissima. This tree flowers about mid-March, producing its shortish, thick male catkins in very great abundance; the numerous exposed anthers give a soft but glowing yellow tone to the tree, and entitle it to rank as one of the most ornamental of early-flowering trees. The pendulous variety of Salix Capræa is known as the Kilmarnock Willow. Although of weeping habit it is somewhat stiff in character; but towards the end of March and later it is exceedingly pretty loaded with its grey catkins. The flowers of the typical S. Capræa (the Goat Willow) are commonly known in many country places as Palm, and are used for decorating churches on Palm Sunday. The slender, coloured twigs of the Purple Willow (Salix purpurea) bear red or purplish-tinted catkins in early April. Salix stipularis may also be mentioned for its beauty when in flower.

Alders

With the exception of a few species, such as Alnus nitida and A. maritima, which flower in September and October, all the Alders develop their blossoms in February and March. The common Alder (A. glutinosa) and its varieties are perhaps as ornamental as any at that time. Like the Willows, they look best and grow best in association with water. In such a position an Alder at that time, leafless, but laden with its slender, greenish-yellow catkins, is a beautiful object, and characteristic, too, of our English landscape. Other species possessing a similar quiet beauty are Alnus incana, A. viridis, A. oregona, and especially A. cordifolia with its green and yellow catkins.

Japanese Walnuts

Juglans sieboldiana and its close allies, J. mandschurica and J. cordiformis, do not flower till May, but bear at that time very remarkable male catkins. I have measured them over one foot long, and hanging as they do in goodly number from the branches, perfectly straight and cylindrical, they have a very striking appearance, although green. All three species are alike in their catkins, but differ in the shape of the nuts. They are noteworthy, too, for the imposing character of their foliage. The leaves are pinnate, and on young trees grown in good soil are frequently three feet long. They certainly deserve the notice of planters.

Garrya elliptica

From all the catkin-bearers hitherto mentioned, this differs in being evergreen. It is also far removed from them in relationship, and is closely allied to the Cornels. At the same time the catkins in external characteristics are very similar. Not only the catkins but the plants themselves are unisexual, and, as is usual with the catkin-bearers, it is the male that is most ornamental. These catkins are from four inches to eight inches long, and I have heard of (but not seen) them as much as one foot in length. The time at which the flowers expand depends, as with all the early catkin-bearers, on the mildness of the season. This year on a wall the catkins have been in beauty ever since the first week of January. They are very attractive in their grace and quiet beauty. Chiefly of soft grey and green colours, the bracts are, however, suffused with a warmer reddish tint. In the neighbourhood of London Garrya elliptica is quite hardy in ordinarily sheltered positions, but does not flower so freely as against a south wall. As it is of Californian origin this is not surprising. This shrub resents disturbance at the root, and in transplanting great care is necessary.

There are other species of Garrya in cultivation, but they are more suitable to the south-western counties than to the average climate of Britain.

To the catkin-bearing family belong several other well-known trees, such as the Birches, Hornbeams, and Sweet Chestnut; but flowering later in the year their beauty is apt to pass without notice in the great flush of bloom that comes in with April. The beautifully fragrant Sweet Gale must not be passed without mention. Its reddish brown catkins are formed before autumn, and expand on the still leafless twigs in spring.

CHAPTER X

There is a mystery about the autumn colouring of the foliage of our many beautiful hardy trees and shrubs in this country, and we have never yet ascertained with any degree of exactness the conditions that produce the richest and brightest tints. Probably the conditions most favourable generally are provided by a good growing season—that is, a warm, moist summer—followed by a dry, sunny autumn. But it frequently happens after what one would regard as favourable seasons, that species which are usually quite trustworthy in this matter fail to colour well. Probably one set of conditions does not suit all trees and shrubs in this respect. To produce the colouration of the leaf just before it falls certain subtle chemical changes in its composition take place. And to bring about these changes certain conditions in regard to sunlight, temperature, and moisture are necessary. But in a climate such as that of Britain, where the seasons are never alike two years together, we can never hope to obtain the same regularity of autumnal colouring that characterises the vegetation, for instance, of the Eastern United States. Still, when all is said, we possess in our gardens a large number of trees and shrubs and climbers that are delightful in their autumnal livery of crimson, purple, scarlet, or gold. It is curious that every season we may notice species not usually conspicuous for their autumn tints beautifully coloured.

An over-vigorous, sappy growth, often the result of a wet, warm autumn or too rich a soil, is certainly detrimental to autumn colouring. Rhus cotinoides, an American Sumach, worth growing for the beauty of its colours in autumn, is one of the most unfailing in this matter. This is perhaps one of the loveliest of all autumn-tinted shrubs, and should be more planted. But young plants, put out in well-trenched, heavily-manured soil, will often fail to colour at all till they get older and less vigorous. The most beautifully coloured examples of this Sumach that we have seen grow in rather light sandy soil. We have frequently noticed, too, that various species of Vine (Vitis) when starved in pots will colour exquisitely, whilst others, planted out in the ordinary way, completely fail. We believe, therefore, when planting with a view to the production of autumnal colour, any great enrichment of the soil is neither necessary nor advisable, provided it is of moderate quality to start with.

In the following notes, brief mention is made of some of the best trees, shrubs, and climbers that colour in autumn:—

Trees

First among these are the American Red Oaks. Undoubtedly the best of these is a variety of Quercus coccinea known as splendens and grayana. This not only turns to a fine scarlet crimson, but it retains its foliage for some weeks after the colour has been acquired—sometimes almost up to Christmas. Other good Oaks, not so certain, however, as the preceding, are Quercus marylandica (or nigra), Q. heterophylla, Q. imbricaria, and Q. palustris, all of which turn red. The Tupelo tree (Nyssa sylvatica) turns a fine burnished bronzy red. A tree remarkable for the size of its leaves, and especially for the rich golden yellow they put on in autumn, is Carya tomentosa, but, like most of the Hickories, it is scarcely known in gardens. Carya sulcata is somewhat similar. The Common Elm is usually very beautiful in the soft yellow tints of its leaves in autumn, but another Elm of more distinct aspect is Ulmus pumila, a low tree whose small leaves are retained till late in the year, and turn golden yellow before they fall. Liquidambar styraciflua has long been valued for its fading foliage of purple red, but not so well known is the lovely yellow of the Fern-like foliage of the Honey Locust (Gleditschia triacanthos). The Tulip tree (Liriodendron), the Nettle trees (Celtis), the Zelkowas, and several of the Birches turn yellow, one of the best of the Birches being Betula corylifolia, which turns a rich orange yellow.

Among commoner trees the yellow of the Horse Chestnut, the lovely crimson of the Wild Cherry, the golden shades of the Black and Lombardy Poplars, add much to the beauty of every autumn. Several of the Maples are noteworthy in this respect, more especially the numerous varieties of Japanese Maples (Acer palmatum and A. japonicum), these, as well as the Mandshurian Acer Ginnala, turning to various shades of red. The Common Sycamore and Norway Maple change to yellow, but Schwedler's variety of the latter becomes red. Other trees that deserve mention are Amelanchier canadensis, whose foliage changes to lovely crimson shades in autumn; Kœlreuteria japonica, soft yellow; Pyrus torminalis, bronzy red; Ginkgo biloba, pale gold; Cladrastis tinctoria, yellow; Parrotia persica and Hamamelis, bronzy red and yellow. The Common Beech is nearly always beautiful, changing first to yellow, then to warm brown tints. Clerodendron trichotomum is a small growing tree that should have a place wherever beautiful autumn foliage is desired. Among Conifers the yellow-leaved variety (aurea) of the Scotch Pine is remarkable in retaining its colour during the winter months only, becoming green in spring and summer. Retinospora squarrosa and Cryptomeria elegans turn bronzy red in winter. The warm red-brown tints of the deciduous Cypress are charming.

Shrubs

The Sumachs (Rhus) furnish some of the most striking of autumn-colouring shrubs; the best of them, R. cotinoides, has been already described; other fine species are R. typhina, R. glabra (with the cut-leaved variety laciniata), and R. Toxicodendron, all of which turn red. The Venetian Sumach, R. Cotinus, becomes yellow. Berberis Thunbergi, which dies off a rich scarlet, is so beautiful in autumn that on some estates it has been planted in great quantity, not only for cover, but so that sportsmen may enjoy its colour during the shooting season. B. concinna is another charming autumn-coloured leaved shrub of dwarf growth. Gaultheria procumbens (Partridge Berry) is too valuable to pass unnoticed. In winter its leaves are stained with crimson. The leaves of Cotoneaster horizontalis turn from green to rich shades of chocolate or crimson. The shrub is of spreading growth. Its evergreen ally, B. Aquifolium, turns a glowing red or purple after the first frosts. The Ghent Azaleas almost always colour richly, either deep glowing crimson, bronzy red, or gold; and of other ericaceous plants the warm tints of Pieris mariana and the rich crimson of the Enkianthus should be mentioned. The taller American Vacciniums (corymbosum and its various forms) are always lovely. Our native Guelder Rose (Viburnum Opulus) becomes crimson in autumn, whilst the Common Hazel and Rhamnus Frangula often produce fine effects in yellow. The feathery foliage of Spiræa Thunbergi is singularly beautiful when it changes from its natural pale green to crimson; and S. prunifolia fl. pl. is perhaps more distinct than the species, and two other Japanese shrubs (both, unfortunately, very rare) are remarkable for their autumnal beauty. These are Disanthus cercidifolia, an ally of the Witch Hazels, lovely claret colour, and Viburnum alnifolium, crimson.

Other noteworthy shrubs are Fothergilla alnifolia, rich red; Euonymus alatus, crimson; Deutzia crenata, yellow; and Pyrus arbutifolia, red. The common Brambles of our woods should not be passed over without mention; they turn a rich glowing red, and for their autumnal beauty alone may be used as undergrowth in wilder parts of the garden and woodland.

Climbers

First among these, of course, is Veitch's Ampelopsis, the finest of all deciduous climbers for walls, being self-supporting and changing to crimson in autumn. Vitis Coignetiæ is one of the noblest of all Vines, and turns crimson also. Other Vines useful in this respect are the Teinturier Vine, purple; V. Romaneti, red; and the Virginian Creeper, especially that variety known as muralis or Engelmannii, which clings to walls or tree trunks without any artificial support, and acquires beautiful red shades in autumn. Among Honeysuckles, Lonicera japonica var. flexuosa is noteworthy for the fine red purple of its decaying leaves. Those of Akebia quinata change colour in autumn and assume shades of brownish purple, sometimes touched with maroon. Then there is Actinidia Kolomikta, an Asiatic species with showy yellow-coloured leaves in autumn. Of the Ivies Hedera Helix atropurpurea is much the best. It has medium-sized leaves which are rich green during the growing season, but change in winter to purple and maroon.

CHAPTER XI

The most important of all the groups of trees and shrubs, for their fruit, is the one comprising the hardy species of the Rose order. This includes, of course, besides the Roses, such trees and shrubs as the Thorns, Crabs, and Cotoneasters. Among the Thorns (Cratægus) are many very handsome sorts giving variety in size and colour of the fruits. It is unfortunate that many of them fall early and get spoilt by birds. At the same time birds add so greatly to the delight of the garden that we may well overlook their depredations. By many, indeed, these fruiting trees will be considered worth growing for the encouragement they give to bird-life. It may be well to remind planters that a considerable number of these fruiting trees and shrubs bear male flowers on one plant, female on another. People are often at a loss to understand why their Sea Buckthorns or Aucubas or Skimmias do not fruit, when the simple reason is that the plants are all male (or pollen-bearing), or that the female ones have no males to fertilise them. As a general rule, if these shrubs are grouped, one male to eight or ten females is a proper proportion. As plants raised from seeds come in about equal proportions of both sexes, it is necessary to select the females and keep just sufficient males to pollenise them, in order that the full beauty of the species as a fruit-bearer may be obtained. With Skimmias and Aucubas the proper proportions can be obtained by means of cuttings.

The following hardy trees and shrubs are the most conspicuous for the beauty of their fruits:—

Arbutus Unedo.—A native of Western Ireland, has strawberry-like fruits of a bright-scarlet colour.

Ailantus glandulosa, a fine tree over 50 feet high, is very beautiful when covered with its red and yellow-winged fruits; there are male and female plants.

Aucubas, grown at first for their ornamental foliage merely, have latterly come into prominence as fruit-bearers; the female plants bear clusters of bright-red berries which remain long on the branches and are very attractive in winter.

Berberis.—The fruits of the Berberries are mostly covered with a plum-coloured bloom as in B. Aquifolium and B. Darwinii, but none of them is handsomer than our native B. vulgaris and its varieties. These have pendent racemes of fruits, varying in colour from the typical orange scarlet to white, purple, and black. B. Thunbergi coral-red, very beautiful.

Cratægus.—The finest of all the Thorns is C. Pyracantha, well named by the French "Buisson ardent." This shrub or small tree is valuable as a graceful evergreen, and when clothed (as it nearly always is in autumn) with its brilliant clusters of orange-red haws, it is one of the most beautiful objects in the garden. It is quite hardy in the open, but bears fruits more abundantly when planted against a wall. In that position also it is more easily protected from birds, which soon destroy the beauty of plants in the open. The variety Lælandi is distinct from the type, but hardier, and bears bright berries in abundance. The Cockspur Thorn (C. Crus-Galli) has several varieties, all producing pendent clusters of scarlet haws. The varieties like pyracanthifolia, with narrow leaves and flat-topped habit, are the best in this respect; they retain the fruits well into the winter, and are not eaten by birds so freely as many are. The haws of C. cordata, the Washington Thorn, are small, but a brilliant orange. C. punctata, C. Azarolus, and C. pinnatifida have the largest haws of any, and they are of a deep red, but fall early; the two first, however, are variable, and forms with yellow and other coloured haws belong to them. Those of C. macracantha are bright red, and in favourable years are so plentiful as to make the tree wondrously beautiful. C. coccinea and C. mollis have also red haws, larger than those of C. macracantha, but they fall soon after they are ripe. The Common Hawthorn is pretty, but more noteworthy is its variety aurea, with bright-yellow haws. In C. oliveriana they are black. The Tansy-leaved Thorn (C. tanacetifolia) has large yellow fruits, not badly flavoured, and with the fragrance of Apples. C. orientalis has haws of a bright sealing-wax red, but in its variety sanguinea they are of a deeper shade.