by the expression "warm" we understand that condition which is technically known as "intermediate." it is waste of time to ask, at this day, why a latin combination should be employed when there is an english monosyllable exactly equivalent; we, at least, will use our mother-tongue. warm orchids are those which like a minimum temperature, while growing, of 60°; while resting, of 55°. as for the maximum, it signifies little in the former case, but in the latter—during the months of rest—it cannot be allowed to go beyond 60°, for any length of time, without mischief. these conditions mean, in effect, that the house must be warmed during nine months of the twelve in this realm of england. "hot" orchids demand a fire the whole year round—saving a few very rare nights when the briton swelters in tropical discomfort. upon this dry subject of temperature, however, i would add one word of encouragement for those who are not willing to pay a heavy bill for coke. the cool-house, in general, requires a fire, at night, until june 1. under that condition, if it face the south, in a warm locality, very many genera and species classed as intermediate should be so thoroughly started before artificial heat is withdrawn that they will do excellently, unless the season be unusual.

warm orchids come from a sub-tropic region, or from the mountains of a hotter climate, where their kinsfolk dwelling in the plains defy the thermometer; just as in sub-tropic lands warm species occupy the lowlands, while the heights furnish odontoglossums and such lovers of a chilly atmosphere. there are, however, some warm odontoglossums, notable among them o. vexillarium, which botanists class with the miltonias. this species is very fashionable, and i give it the place of honour; but not, in my own view, for its personal merits. the name is so singularly appropriate that one would like to hear the inventor's reasons for transfiguring it. vexillum we know, and vexillarius, but vexillarium goes beyond my latin. however, it is an intelligible word, and those acquainted with the appearance of "regimental colours" in old rome perceive its fitness at a glance. the flat bloom seems to hang suspended from its centre, just as the vexillum figures in bas-relief—on the arch of antoninus, for example. to my mind the colouring is insipid, as a rule, and the general effect stark—fashion in orchids, as in other things, has little reference to taste. i repeat with emphasis, as a rule, for some priceless specimens are no less than astounding in their blaze of colour, the quintessence of a million uninteresting blooms. the poorest of these plants have merit, no doubt, for those who can accommodate giants. they grow fast and big. there are specimens in this country a yard across, which display a hundred and fifty or two hundred flowers open at the same time for months. a superb show they make, rising over the pale sea-green foliage, four spikes perhaps from a single bulb. but this is a beauty of general effect, which must not be analyzed, as i think.

odontoglossum vexillarium is brought from colombia. there are two forms: the one—small, evenly red, flowering in autumn—was discovered by frank klaboch, nephew to the famous roezl, on the dagua river, in antioquia. for eight years he persisted in despatching small quantities to europe, though every plant died; at length a safer method of transmission was found, but simultaneously poor klaboch himself succumbed. it is an awful country—perhaps the wettest under the sun. though a favourite hunting-ground of collectors now—for cattleyas of value come from hence, besides this precious odontoglot—there are still no means of transport, saving indians and canoes. o. vexillarium would not be thought costly if buyers knew how rare it is, how expensive to get, and how terribly difficult to bring home. forty thousand pieces were despatched to mr. sander in one consignment—he hugged himself with delight when three thousand proved to have some trace of vitality.

mr. watson, assistant curator at kew, recalls an amusing instance of the value and the mystery attached to this species so late as 1867. in that year professor reichenbach described it for the first time. he tells how a friend lent him the bloom upon a negative promise under five heads—"first, not to show it to any one else; (2) not to speak much about it; (3) not to take a drawing of it; (4) not to have a photograph made; (5) not to look oftener than three times at it." by-the-bye, mr. watson gives the credit of the first discovery to the late mr. bowman; but i venture to believe that my account is exact—in reference to the antioquia variety, at least.

the other form occurs in the famous district of frontino, about two hundred and fifty miles due north of the first habitat, and shows—savants would add "of course"—a striking difference. in the geographical distinctions of species will be found the key to whole volumes of mystery that perplex us now. i once saw three odontoglossums ranged side by side, which even an expert would pronounce mere varieties of the same plant if he were not familiar with them—od. williamsi, od. grande, and od. schlieperianum. the middle one everybody knows, by sight at least, a big, stark, spread-eagle flower, gamboge yellow mottled with red-brown, vastly effective in the mass, but individually vulgar. on one side was od. williamsi, essentially the same in flower and bulb and growth, but smaller; opposite stood od. schlieperianum, only to be distinguished as smaller still. but both these latter rank as species. they are separated from the common type, o. grande, by nearly ten degrees of latitude and ten degrees of longitude, nor—we might almost make an affidavit—do any intermediate forms exist in the space between; and those degrees are sub-tropical, by so much more significant than an equal distance in our zone. instances of the same class and more surprising are found in many genera of orchid.

the frontino vexillarium grows "cooler," has a much larger bloom, varies in hue from purest white to deepest red, and flowers in may or june. the most glorious of these things, however, is o. vex. superbum, a plant of the greatest rarity, conspicuous for its blotch of deep purple in the centre of the lip, and its little dot of the same on each wing. doubtless this is a natural hybrid betwixt the antioquia form and odontoglossum roezlii, which is its neighbour. the chance of finding a bit of superbum in a bundle of the ordinary kind lends peculiar excitement to a sale of these plants. such luck first occurred to mr. bath, in stevens' auction rooms. he paid half-a-crown for a very weakly fragment, brought it round, flowered it, and received a prize for good gardening in the shape of seventy-two pounds, cheerfully paid by sir trevor lawrence for a plant unique at that time. i am reminded of another little story. among a great number of cypripedium insigne received at st. albans, and "established," mr. sander noted one presently of which the flower-stalk was yellow instead of brown, as is usual. sharp eyes are a valuable item of the orchid-grower's stock-in-trade, for the smallest peculiarity among such "sportive" objects should not be neglected. carefully he put the yellow stalk aside—the only one among thousands, one might say myriads, since c. insigne is one of our oldest and commonest orchids, and it never showed this phenomenon before. in due course the flower opened, and proved to be all golden! mr. sander cut his plant in two, sold half for seventy-five pounds to a favoured customer, and the other half, publicly, for one hundred guineas. one of the purchasers has divided his plant now and sold two bits at 100 guineas. another piece was bought back by mr. sander, who wanted it for hybridizing, at 250 guineas—not a bad profit for the buyer, who has still two plants left. another instance occurs to me while i write—such legends of shrewdness worthily rewarded fascinate a poor journalist who has the audacity to grow orchids. mr. harvey, solicitor, of liverpool, strolling through the houses at st. albans on july 24, 1883, remarked a plant of l?lia anceps, which had the ring-mark on its pseudo-bulb much higher up than is usual. there might be some meaning in that eccentricity, he thought, paid two guineas for the little thing, and on december 1, 1888, sold it back to mr. sander for 200l. it proved to be l. a. amesiana, the grandest form of l. anceps yet discovered—rosy white, with petals deeply splashed; thus named after f.l. ames, an american amateur. such pleasing opportunities might arise for you or me any day.

the first name that arises to most people in thinking of warm orchids is cattleya, and naturally. the genus odontoglossum alone has more representatives under cultivation. sixty species of cattleya are grown by amateurs who pay special attention to these plants; as for the number of "varieties" in a single species, one boasts forty, another thirty, several pass the round dozen. they are exclusively american, but they flourish over all the enormous space between mexico and the argentine republic. the genus is not a favourite of my own, for somewhat of the same reason which qualifies my regard for o. vexillarium. cattleyas are so obtrusively beautiful, they have such great flowers, which they thrust upon the eye with such assurance of admiration! theirs is a style of effect—i refer to the majority—which may be called infantine; such as an intelligent and tasteful child might conceive if he had no fine sense of colour, and were too young to distinguish a showy from a charming form. but i say no more.

the history of orchids long established is uncertain, but i believe that the very first cattleya which appeared in europe was c. violacea loddigesi, imported by the great firm whose name it bears, to which we owe such a heavy debt. two years later came c. labiata, of which more must be said; then c. mossi?, from caraccas; fourth, c. trian? named after colonel trian, of tolima, in the united states of colombia. trian well deserved immortality, for he was a native of that secluded land—and a botanist! it is a natural supposition that his orchid must be the commonest of weeds in its home; seeing how all europe is stocked with it, and america also, rash people might say there are millions in cultivation. but it seems likely that c. trian? was never very frequent, and at the present time assuredly it is so scarce that collectors are not sent after it. probably the colonel, like many other savants, was an excellent man of business, and he established "a corner" when he saw the chance. c. mossi? stands in the same situation—or indeed worse; it can scarcely be found now. these instances convey a serious warning. in seventy years we have destroyed the native stock of two orchids, both so very free in propagating that they have an exceptional advantage in the struggle for existence. how long can rare species survive, when the demand strengthens and widens year by year, while the means of communication and transport become easier over all the world? other instances will be mentioned in their place.

island species are doomed, unless, like l?lia elegans, they have inaccessible crags on which to find refuge. it is only a question of time; but we may hope that governments will interfere before it is too late. already mr. burbidge has suggested that "some one" who takes an interest in orchids should establish a farm, a plantation, here and there about the world, where such plants grow naturally, and devote himself to careful hybridization on the spot. "one might make as much," he writes, "by breeding orchids as by breeding cattle, and of the two, in the long run, i should prefer the orchid farm." this scheme will be carried out one day, not so much for the purpose of hybridization as for plain "market-gardening;" and the sooner the better.

the prospect is still more dark for those who believe—as many do—that no epiphytal orchid under any circumstances can be induced to establish itself permanently in our greenhouses as it does at home. doubtless, they say, it is possible to grow them and to flower them, by assiduous care, upon a scale which is seldom approached under the rough treatment of nature. but they are dying from year to year, in spite of appearances. that it is so in a few cases can hardly be denied; but, seeing how many plants which have not changed hands since their establishment, twenty or thirty or forty years ago, have grown continually bigger and finer, it seems much more probable that our ignorance is to blame for the loss of those species which suddenly collapse. sir trevor lawrence observed the other day: "with regard to the longevity of orchids, i have one which i know to have been in this country for more than fifty years, probably even twenty years longer than that—renanthera coccinea." the finest specimens of cattleya in mr. stevenson clarke's houses have been "grown on" from small pieces imported twenty years ago. if there were more collections which could boast, say, half a century of uninterrupted attention, we should have material for forming a judgment; as a rule, the dates of purchase or establishment were not carefully preserved till late years.

but there is one species of cattleya which must needs have seventy years of existence in europe, since it had never been re-discovered till 1890. when we see a pot of c. labiata, the true, autumn-flowering variety, more than two years old, we know that the very plant itself must have been established about 1818, or at least its immediate parent—for no seedling has been raised to public knowledge.[4]

in avowing a certain indifference to cattleyas, i referred to the bulk, of course. the most gorgeous, the stateliest, the most imperial of all flowers on this earth, is c. dowiana—unless it be c. aurea, a "geographical variety" of the same. they dwell a thousand miles apart at least, the one in colombia, the other in costa rica; and neither occurs, so far as is known, in the great intervening region. not even a connecting link has been discovered; but the atlantic coast of central america is hardly explored, much less examined. in my time it was held, from cape camarin to chagres, by independent tribes of savages—not independent in fact alone, but in name also. the mosquito indians are recognized by europe as free; the guatusos kept a space of many hundred miles from which no white man had returned; when i was in those parts, the talamancas, though not so unfriendly, were only known by the report of adventurous pedlars. i made an attempt—comparatively spirited—to organize an exploring party for the benefit of the guatusos, but no single volunteer answered our advertisements in san josé de costa rica; i have lived to congratulate myself on that disappointment. since my day a road has been cut through their wilds to limon, certain luckless britons having found the money for a railway; but an engineer who visited the coast but two years ago informs me that no one ever wandered into "the bush." collectors have not been there, assuredly. so there may be connecting links between c. dowiana and c. aurea in that vast wilderness, but it is quite possible there are none.

words could not picture the glory of these marvels. in each the scheme of colour is yellow and crimson, but there are important modifications. yellow is the ground all through in cattleya aurea—sepals, petals, and lip; unbroken in the two former, in the latter superbly streaked with crimson. but cattleya dowiana shows crimson pencillings on its sepals, while the ground colour of the lip is crimson, broadly lined and reticulated with gold. imagine four of these noble flowers on one stalk, each half a foot across! but it lies beyond the power of imagination.

c. dowiana was discovered by warscewicz about 1850, and he sent home accounts too enthusiastic for belief. steady-going britons utterly refused to credit such a marvel—his few plants died, and there was an end of it for the time. i may mention an instance of more recent date, where the eye-witness of a collector was flatly rejected at home. monsieur st. leger, residing at asuncion, the capital of paraguay, wrote a warm description of an orchid in those parts to scientific friends. the account reached england, and was treated with derision. monsieur st. leger, nettled, sent some dried flowers for a testimony; but the mind of the orchidaceous public was made up. in 1883 he brought a quantity of plants and put them up at auction; nobody in particular would buy. so those reckless or simple or trusting persons who invested a few shillings in a bundle had all the fun to themselves a few months afterwards, when the beautiful oncidium jonesianum appeared, to confound the unbelieving. it must be added, however, that orchid-growers may well become an incredulous generation. when their judgment leads them wrong we hear of it, the tale is published, and outsiders mock. but these gentlemen receive startling reports continually, honest enough for the most part. much experience and some loss have made them rather cynical when a new wonder is announced. the particular case of monsieur st. leger was complicated by the extreme resemblance which the foliage of onc. jonesianum bears to that of onc. cibolletum, a species almost worthless. unfortunately the beautiful thing declines to live with us—as yet.

cattleya dowiana was rediscovered by mr. arce, when collecting birds: it must have been a grand moment for warscewicz when the horticultural world was convulsed by its appearance in bloom. cattleya aurea had no adventures of this sort. mr. wallis found it in 1868 in the province of antioquia, and again on the west bank of the magdalena; but it is very rare. this species is persecuted in its native home by a beetle, which accompanies it to europe not infrequently—in the form of eggs, no doubt. a more troublesome alien is the fly which haunts cattleya mendellii, and for a long time prejudiced growers against that fine species, until, in fact, they had made a practical and rather costly study of its habits. an experienced grower detects the presence of this enemy at a glance. it pierces an "eye"—a back one in general, happily—and deposits an egg in the very centre. presently this growth begins to swell in a manner that delights the ingenuous horticulturist, until he remarks that its length does not keep pace with its breadth. but one remedy has yet been discovered—cutting off any suspected growth. we understand now that c. mendellii is as safe to import as any other species, unless it be gathered at the wrong time.[5]

among the most glorious, rarest, and most valuable of cattleyas is c. hardyana, doubtless a natural hybrid of c. aurea with c. gigas sanderiana. few of us have seen it—two-hundred-guinea plants are not common spectacles. it has an immense flower, rose-purple; the lip purple-magenta, veined with gold. cattleya sanderiana offers an interesting story. mr. mau, one of mr. sander's collectors, was despatched to bogota in search of odontoglossum crispum. while tramping through the woods, he came across a very large cattleya at rest, and gathered such pieces as fell in his way—attaching so little importance to them, however, that he did not name the matter in his reports. four cases mr. mau brought home with his stock of odontoglossums, which were opened in due course of business. we can quite believe that it was one of the stirring moments of mr. sander's life. the plants bore many dry specimens of last year's inflorescence, displaying such extraordinary size as proved the variety to be new; and there is no large cattleya of indifferent colouring. to receive a plant of that character unannounced, undescribed, is an experience without parallel for half a century. mr. mau was sent back by next mail to secure every fragment he could find. meantime, those in hand were established, and mr. brymer, m.p., bought one—mr. brymer is immortalized by the dendrobe which bears his name. the new cattleya proved kindly, and just before mr. mau returned with some thousands of its like mr. brymer's purchase broke into bloom. that must have been another glorious moment for mr. sander, when the great bud unfolded, displaying sepals and petals of the rosiest, freshest, softest pink, eleven inches across; and a crimson labellum exquisitely shown up by a broad patch of white on either side of the throat. mr. brymer was good enough to lend his specimen for the purpose of advertisement, and messrs. stevens enthusiastically fixed a green baize partition across their rooms as a background for the wondrous novelty. what excitement reigned there on the great day is not to be described. i have heard that over 2000l. was taken in the room.

most of the cattleyas with which the public is familiar—mossi?, trian?, mendellii, and so forth—have white varieties; but an example absolutely pure is so uncommon that it fetches a long price. loveliest of these is c. skinneri alba. for generations, if not for ages, the people of costa rica have been gathering every morsel they can find, and planting it upon the roofs of their mud-built churches. roezl and the early collectors had a "good time," buying these semi-sacred flowers from the priests, bribing the parishioners to steal them, or, when occasion served, playing the thief themselves. but the game is nearly up. seldom now can a piece of cat. skinneri alba be obtained by honest means, and when a collector arrives guards are set upon the churches that still keep their decoration. no plant has ever been found in the forest, we understand.

it is just the same case with l?lia anceps alba. the genus l?lia is distinguished from cattleya by a peculiarity to be remarked only in dissection; its pollen masses are eight as against four. to my taste, however, the species are more charming on the whole. there is l. purpurata. casual observers always find it hard to grasp the fact that orchids are weeds in their native homes, just like foxgloves and dandelions with us. in this instance, as i have noted, they flatly refuse to believe, and certainly "upon the face of it" their incredulity is reasonable.

l?lia purpurata falls under the head of hot orchids. l. anceps, however, is not so exacting; many people grow it in the cool house when they can expose it there to the full blaze of sunshine. in its commonest form it is divinely beautiful. i have seen a plant in mr. eastey's collection with twenty-three spikes, the flowers all open at once. such a spectacle is not to be described in prose. but when the enthusiast has rashly said that earth contains no more ethereal loveliness, let him behold l. a. alba, the white variety. the dullest man i ever knew, who had a commonplace for all occasions, found no word in presence of that marvel. even the half-castes of mexico who have no soul, apparently, for things above horseflesh and cockfights, and love-making, reverence this saintly bloom. the indians adore it. like their brethren to the south, who have tenderly removed every plant of cattleya skinneri alba for generations unknown, to set upon their churches, they collect this supreme effort of nature and replant it round their huts. so thoroughly has the work been done in either case that no single specimen was ever seen in the forest. every one has been bought from the indians, and the supply is exhausted; that is to say, a good many more are known to exist, but very rarely now can the owner be persuaded to part with one. the first example reached england nearly half a century ago, sent probably by a native trader to his correspondent in this country; but, as was usual at that time, the circumstances are doubtful. it found its way, somehow, to mr. dawson, of meadowbank, a famous collector, and by him it was divided. search was made for the treasure in its home, but vainly; travellers did not look in the indian gardens. no more arrived for many years. mr. sander once conceived a fine idea. he sent one of his collectors to gather l?lia a. alba at the season when it is in bud, with an intention of startling the universe by displaying a mass of them in full bloom; they were still more uncommon then than now, when a dozen flowering plants is still a show of which kings may be proud. mr. bartholomeus punctually fulfilled his instructions, collected some forty plants with their spikes well developed; attached them to strips of wood which he nailed across shallow boxes, and shipped them to san francisco. thence they travelled by fast train to new york, and proceeded without a moment's delay to liverpool on board the umbria; it was one of her first trips. all went well. confidently did mr. sander anticipate the sensation when a score of those glorious plants were set out in full bloom upon the tables. but on opening the boxes he found every spike withered. the experiment is so tempting that it has been essayed once more, with a like result. the buds of l?lia anceps will not stand sea air.

catasetums do not rank as a genus among our beauties; in fact, saving c. pileatum, commonly called c. bungerothi, and c. barbatum, i think of none, at this moment, which are worthy of attraction on that ground. c. fimbriatum, indeed, would be lovely if it could be persuaded to show itself. i have seen one plant which condescended to open its spotted blooms, but only one. no orchids, however, give more material for study; on this account catasetum was a favourite with mr. darwin. it is approved also by unlearned persons who find relief from the monotony of admiration as they stroll round in observing its acrobatic performances. the "column" bears two horns; if these be touched, the pollen-masses fly as if discharged from a catapult. c. pileatum, however, is very handsome, four inches across, ivory white, with a round well in the centre of its broad lip, which makes a theme for endless speculation. the daring eccentricities of colour in this class of plant have no stronger example than c. callosum, a novelty from caraccas, with inky brown sepals and petals, brightest orange column, labellum of verdigris-green tipped with orange to match.

schomburgkias are not often seen. having a boundless choice of fine things which grow and flower without reluctance, the practical gardener gets irritated in these days when he finds a plant beyond his skill. it is a pity, for the schomburgkias are glorious things—in especial sch. tibicinis. no description has done it justice, and few are privileged to speak as eye-witnesses. the clustering flowers hang down, sepals and petals of dusky mauve, most gracefully frilled and twisted, encircling a great hollow labellum which ends in a golden drop. that part of the cavity which is visible between the handsome incurved wings has bold stripes of dark crimson. the species is interesting, too. it comes from honduras, where the children use its great hollow pseudo-bulbs as trumpets—whence the name. at their base is a hole—a touch-hole, as we may say, the utility of which defies our botanists. had mr. belt travelled in those parts, he might have discovered the secret, as in the similar case of the bullthorn, one of the gummifer?. the great thorns of that bush have just such a hole, and mr. belt proved by lengthy observations that it is designed, to speak roughly, for the ingress of an ant peculiar to that acacia, whose duty it is to defend the young shoots—vide belt's "naturalist in nicaragua," page 218. importers are too well aware that schomburgkia tibicinis also is inhabited by an ant of singular ferocity, for it survives the voyage, and rushes forth to battle when the case is opened. we may suppose that it performs a like service.

dendrobiums are "warm" mostly; of the hot species, which are many, and the cool, which are few, i have not to speak here. but a remark made at the beginning of this chapter especially applies to dendrobes. if they be started early, so that the young growths are well advanced by june 1; if the situation be warm, and a part of the house sunny—if they be placed in that part without any shade till july, and freely syringed—with a little extra attention many of them will do well enough. that is to say, they will make such a show of blossom as is mighty satisfactory in the winter time. we must not look for "specimens," but there should be bloom enough to repay handsomely the very little trouble they give. among those that may be treated so are d. wardianum, falconeri, crassinode, pierardii, crystallinum, devonianum—sometimes—and nobile, of course. probably there are more, but these i have tried myself.

dendrobium wardianum, at the present day, comes almost exclusively from burmah—the neighbourhood of the ruby mines is its favourite habitat. but it was first brought to england from assam in 1858, when botanists regarded it as a form of d. falconeri. this error was not so strange as its seems, for the assamese variety has pseudo-bulbs much less sturdy than those we are used to see, and they are quite pendulous. it was rather a lively business collecting orchids in burmah before the annexation. the roman catholic missionaries established there made it a source of income, and they did not greet an intruding stranger with warmth—not genial warmth, at least. he was forbidden to quit the town of bhamo, an edict which compelled him to employ native collectors—in fact, coolies—himself waiting helplessly within the walls; but his reverend rivals, having greater freedom and an acquaintance with the language, organized a corps of skirmishers to prowl round and intercept the natives returning with their loads. doubtless somebody received the value when they made a haul, but who, is uncertain perhaps—and the stranger was disappointed, anyhow. it may be believed that unedifying scenes arose—especially on two or three occasions when an agent had almost reached one of the four gates before he was intercepted. for the hapless collector—having nothing in the world to do—haunted those portals all day long, flying from one to the other in hope to see "somebody coming." very droll, but burmah is a warm country for jests of the kind. thus it happened occasionally that he beheld his own discomfiture, and rows ensued at the mission-house. at length mr. sander addressed a formal petition to the austrian archbishop, to whom the missionaries owed allegiance. he received a sympathetic answer, and some assistance.

from the ruby mines also comes a dendrobium so excessively rare that i name it only to call the attention of employés in the new company. this is d. rhodopterygium. sir trevor lawrence has or had a plant, i believe; there are two or three at st. albans; but the lists of other dealers will be searched in vain. sir trevor lawrence had also a scarlet species from burmah; but it died even before the christening, and no second has yet been found. sumatra furnishes a scarlet dendrobe, d. forstermanni, but it again is of the utmost rarity. baron schroeder boasts three specimens—which have not yet flowered, however. from burmah comes d. brymerianum, of which the story is brief, but very thrilling if we ponder it a moment. for the missionaries sent this plant to europe without a description—they had not seen the bloom, doubtless—and it sold cheap enough. we may fancy mr. brymer's emotion, therefore, when the striking flower opened. its form is unique, though some other varieties display a long fringe—as that extraordinary object, nanodes medus?, and also brassavola digbyana, which is exquisitely lovely sometimes. in the case of d. brymerianum the bright yellow lip is split all round, for two-thirds of its expanse, into twisted filaments. we may well ask what on earth is nature's purpose in this eccentricity; but it is a question that arises every hour to the most thoughtless being who grows orchids.

everybody knows dendrobium nobile so well that it is not to be discussed in prose; something might be done in poetry, perhaps, by young gentlemen who sing of buttercups and daisies, but the rhyme would be difficult. d. nobile nobilius, however, is by no means so common—would it were! this glorified form turned up among an importation made by messrs. rollisson. they propagated it, and sold four small pieces, which are still in cultivation. but the troubles of that renowned firm, to which we owe so great a debt, had already begun. the mother-plant was neglected. it had fallen into such a desperate condition when messrs. rollisson's plants were sold, under a decree in bankruptcy, that the great dealers refused to bid for what should have been a little gold-mine. a casual market-gardener hazarded thirty shillings, brought it round so far that he could establish a number of young plants, and sold the parent for forty pounds at last. there are, however, several fine varieties of d. nobile more valuable than nobilius. d. n. sanderianum resembles that form, but it is smaller and darker. albinos have been found; baron schroeder has a beautiful example. one appeared at stevens' rooms, announced as the single instance in cultivation—which is not quite the fact, but near enough for the auction-room, perhaps. it also was imported originally by mr. sander, with d. n. sanderianum. biddings reached forty-three pounds, but the owner would not deal at the price. albinos are rare among the dendrobes.

d. nobile cooksoni was the fons et origo of an unpleasant misunderstanding. it turned up in the collection of mr. lange, distinguished by a reversal of the ordinary scheme of colour. there is actually no end to the delightful vagaries of these plants. if people only knew what interest and pleasing excitement attends the inflorescence of an imported orchid—one, that is, which has not bloomed before in europe—they would crowd the auction-rooms in which every strange face is marked now. there are books enough to inform them, certainly; but who reads an orchid book? even the enthusiast only consults it.

dendrobium nobile cooksoni, then, has white tips to petal and sepal; the crimson spot keeps its place; and the inside of the flower is deep red—an inversion of the usual colouring. mr. lange could scarcely fail to observe this peculiarity, but he seems to have thought little of it. mr. cookson, paying him a visit, was struck, however—as well he might be—and expressed a wish to have the plant. so the two distinguished amateurs made an exchange. mr. cookson sent a flower at once to professor reichenbach, who, delighted and enthusiastic, registered it upon the spot under the name of the gentleman from whom he received it. mr. lange protested warmly, demanding that his discovery should be called, after his residence, heathfieldsayeanum. but professor reichenbach drily refused to consider personal questions; and really, seeing how short is life, and how long dendrobium nobile heathfield, &c., true philanthropists will hold him justified.

we may expect wondrous dendrobes from new guinea. some fine species have already arrived, and others have been sent in the dried inflorescence. of d. phal?nopsis schroederi i have spoken elsewhere. there is d. goldiei; a variety of d. superbiens—but much larger. there is d. albertesii, snow-white; d. broomfieldianum, curiously like l?lia anceps alba in its flower—which is to say that it must be the loveliest of all dendrobes. but this species has a further charm, almost incredible. the lip in some varieties is washed with lavender blue, in some with crimson! another is nearly related to d. bigibbum, but much larger, with sepals more acute. its hue is a glorious rosy-purple, deepening on the lip, the side lobes of which curl over and meet, forming a cylindrical tube, while the middle lobe, prolonged, stands out at right angles, veined with very dark purple; this has just been named d. statterianum. it has upon the disc an elevated, hairy crest, like d. bigibbum, but instead of being white as always, more or less, in that instance, the crest of the new species is dark purple. i have been particular in describing this noble flower, because very, very few have beheld it. those who live will see marvels when the dutch and german portions of new guinea are explored.

recently i have been privileged to see another, the most impressive to my taste, of all the lovely genus. it is called d. atro-violaceum. the stately flowers hang down their heads, reflexed like a "turban lily," ten or a dozen on a spike. the colour is ivory-white, with a faintest tinge of green, and green spots are dotted all over. the lobes of the lip curl in, making half the circumference of a funnel, the outside of which is dark violet-blue; with that fine colour the lip itself is boldly striped. they tell me that the public is not expected to "catch on" to this marvel. it hangs its head too low, and the contrast of hues is too startling. if that be so, we multiply schools of art and county council lectures perambulate the realm, in vain. the artistic sense is denied us.

madagascar also will furnish some astonishing novelties; it has already begun, in fact—with a vengeance. imagine a scarlet cymbidium! that such a wonder existed has been known for some years, and three collectors have gone in search of it; two died, and the third has been terribly ill since his return to europe—but he won the treasure, which we shall behold in good time. those parts of madagascar which especially attract botanists must be death-traps indeed! m. léon humblot tells how he dined at tamatave with his brother and six compatriots, exploring the country with various scientific aims. within twelve months he was the only survivor. one of these unfortunates, travelling on behalf of mr. cutler, the celebrated naturalist of bloomsbury street, to find butterflies and birds, shot at a native idol, as the report goes. the priests soaked him with paraffin, and burnt him on a table—perhaps their altar. m. humblot himself has had awful experiences. he was attached to the geographical survey directed by the french government, and ten years ago he found phajus humblotii and phajus tuberculosus in the deadliest swamps of the interior. a few of the bulbs gathered lived through the passage home, and caused much excitement when offered for sale at stevens' auction rooms. m. humblot risked his life again, and secured a great quantity for mr. sander, but at a dreadful cost. he spent twelve months in the hospital at mayotte, and on arrival at marseilles with his plants the doctors gave him no hope of recovery. p. humblotii is a marvel of beauty—rose-pink, with a great crimson labellum exquisitely frilled, and a bright green column.

everybody who knows his "darwin" is aware that madagascar is the chosen home of the angr?cums. all, indeed, are natives of africa, so far as i know, excepting the delightful a. falcatum, which comes, strangely enough, from japan. one cannot but suspect, under the circumstances, that this species was brought from africa ages ago, when the japanese were enterprising seamen, and has been acclimatized by those skilful horticulturists. it is certainly odd that the only "cool" aerides—the only one found, i believe, outside of india and the eastern tropics—also belongs to japan, and a cool dendrobe, a. arcuatum, is found in the transvaal; and i have reason to hope that another or more will turn up when south africa is thoroughly searched. a pink angr?cum, very rarely seen, dwells somewhere on the west coast; the only species, so far as i know, which is not white. it bears the name of m. du chaillu, who found it—he has forgotten where, unhappily. i took that famous traveller to st. albans in the hope of quickening his recollection, and i fear i bored him afterwards with categorical inquiries. but all was vain. m. du chaillu can only recall that once on a time, when just starting for europe, it occurred to him to run into the bush and strip the trees indiscriminately. mr. sander was prepared to send a man expressly for this angr?cum. the exquisite a. sanderianum is a native of the comorro islands. no flower could be prettier than this, nor more deliciously scented—when scented it is! it grows in a climate which travellers describe as paradise, and, in truth, it becomes such a scene. those who behold young plants with graceful garlands of snowy bloom twelve to twenty inches long are prone to fall into raptures; but imagine it as a long-established specimen appears just now at st albans, with racemes drooping two and a half feet from each new growth, clothed on either side with flowers like a double train of white long-tailed butterflies hovering! a. scottianum comes from zanzibar, discovered, i believe, by sir john kirk; a. caudatum, from sierra leone. this latter species is the nearest rival of a. sesquipedale, showing "tails" ten inches long. next in order for this characteristic detail rank a. leonis and kotschyi—the latter rarely grown—with seven-inch "tails;" scottianum and ellisii with six-inch; that is to say, they ought to show such dimensions respectively. whether they fulfil their promise depends upon the grower.

with the exceptions named, this family belongs to madagascar. it has a charming distinction, shared by no other genus which i recall, save, in less degree, cattleya—every member is attractive. but i must concentrate myself on the most striking—that which fascinated darwin. in the first place it should be pointed out that savants call this plant ?ranthus sesquipedalis, not angr?cum—a fact useful to know, but unimportant to ordinary mortals. it was discovered by the rev. mr. ellis, and sent home alive, nearly thirty years ago; but civilized mankind has not yet done wondering at it. the stately growth, the magnificent green-white flowers, command admiration at a glance, but the "tail," or spur, offers a problem of which the thoughtful never tire. it is commonly ten inches long, sometimes fourteen inches, and at home, i have been told, even longer; about the thickness of a goose-quill, hollow, of course, the last inch and a half filled with nectar. studying this appendage by the light of the principles he had laid down, darwin ventured on a prophecy which roused special mirth among the unbelievers. not only the abnormal length of the nectary had to be considered; there was, besides, the fact that all its honey lay at the base, a foot or more from the orifice. accepting it as a postulate that every detail of the apparatus must be equally essential for the purpose it had to serve, he made a series of experiments which demonstrated that some insect of madagascar—doubtless a moth—must be equipped with a proboscis long enough to reach the nectar, and at the same time thick enough at the base to withdraw the pollinia—thus fertilizing the bloom. for, if the nectar had lain so close to the orifice that moths with a proboscis of reasonable length and thickness could get at it, they would drain the cup without touching the pollinia. darwin never proved his special genius more admirably than in this case. he created an insect beyond belief, as one may say, by the force of logic; and such absolute confidence had he in his own syllogism that he declared, "if such great moths were to become extinct in madagascar, assuredly this angr?cum would become extinct." i am not aware that darwin's fine argument has yet been clinched by the discovery of that insect. but cavil has ceased. long before his death a sphinx moth arrived from south brazil which shows a proboscis between ten and eleven inches long—very nearly equal, therefore, to the task of probing the nectary of angr?cum sesquipidale. and we know enough of orchids at this time to be absolutely certain that the madagascar species must exist.