Here, at the summit of the Rochers de Naye, above Montreux, is a garden which is one of the highest and most romantically situated in Europe. Laid out, for the most part, upon the southern face of a precipitous cliff, it is in striking contrast with the Pont de Nant garden. On a calm and cloudless day it is entirely fascinating, and, with the magnificent panorama of Alp-land stretching away on all sides, it is the very setting of which we dream for Alpine plants. But when the fierce northern or north-westerly gales are blowing from over the Jura, with, possibly, a driving, blinding snow or hail, it is not a particularly inviting spot to visit. Under such conditions, only the Chough seems happy, as, with a cheerful whistle, it hovers on the brink of the precipice, and rises and falls in the teeth of the tempest like some black Japanese bird-kite. But even then we may be instructed; for we obtain a glimpse of the kind of weather-fury which has so much to do with the making of Alpines.
Here, like the mice against which the gardener wages grim warfare, the Iceland Poppy appears to have found an ideal home. Eagerly it is invading the rocky escarpments on every hand, and nothing could be more charming than to see its pure orange, yellow, or white blossoms consorting with those of Anemone alpina, and nodding in the sunshine against a background of distant Jungfrau, Eiger, and Monch. Indeed, this Poppy is so thoroughly happy on the Rochers de Naye that quantities of it may be seen springing up even amongst the weather-worn asphalt on the terraces and balconies of the hotel. Primulas, too, were making a brave show in the garden - as bright and brave a show at the end of June as in the garden at the Pont de Nant they were making in the middle of May. Just inside the entrance-gate is a rock-work profusely studded with such rosy-magenta gems as Primulas latifolia, integrifolia, longiflora, venusta, calycina, hirsuta, marginata, minima, and Cash-meriana. Further on, along the path which winds down the face of the cliff, was a lovely white form of Viola calcarata, nestling with Saxifraga atro-purpurea, the rosy Androsace sempervivoides, and the 'Floraire' variety of Androsace Chumbyi Here, too, was the violet-veined Geranium argenteum, the yellow, marguerite-like Aronicum scorpioides, the exquisite and uncommon white form of Linaria alpina, the Caucasian Doronicum (with not so fine a flower as that of its Swiss relation), and a large and wonderfully rich blue form of Gentiana acaulis. In fact, in this garden, situated as it is, and not being strictly scientific, M. Henry Correvon has had more scope for attractive display than has Professor Wilczeck at the Pont de Nant. And the result is extremely fascinating. When no mists and clouds are drifting up from the Lake of Geneva, and we are wandering up and down the steep paths, peering into the many rugged nooks and corners decked with the floral treasures of the world's Alps, we cannot but imagine it a likely playground for mountain sprites and fairies.