I am going to write an account of the members of the American Flora which are famous for beauty and fit for British gardens. At the present time, when herbaceous and alpine plants are fast becoming fashionable, and the ordinary system of bedding is giving up part of the prominent position it held a few years ago, I feel sure that any information regarding the fresh candidates for admiration will be welcome to many. My remarks will all be the result of observations taken amidst the living realities just as these occur in their native haunts. It may take a long time for me to accomplish this undertaking, but if I am spared I shall proceed steadily until my task is finished, and always endeavour to do my work faithfully.

In Kentucky, one of the earliest of the flowers of spring is Claytonia virginica, or Spring-beauty, or Glad-tidings. It may be in England or Scotland, but I never saw it there; and yet it should be grown everywhere, for it is one of the most perfect little gems imaginable. No spot comes amiss to it, and it is the Daisy of this region. Woods, in which the soil is a rich deep loam, furnish all it desires, but it is not in the least afraid to take the open pastures where the soil is as hard as a road, and it is quite plentiful on cultivated ground. Claytonia perfoliata and Claytonia sibirica are common in European gardens, but they have the misfortune to be annuals. This species has the great advantage of being perennial; and the corm which enables it to be so is sometimes buried 2 inches underground. The leaves are linear-lanceolate, and have a good deal of succulency about them. A specimen which is 5 inches above the ground may be considered rather more than the average size. The stem bears at its apex a considerable raceme of flowers, and a little way down are a couple of opposite leaves. The corolla is about as large as that of an ordinary scarlet Pelargonium, and the petals are very neat and spreading, white, or between white and a delicate pink, with a little yellow near the base.

The veins of the petals are rose-coloured, and then the blossoms glisten when the sunlight plays upon them. The anthers are of a rich red tint. I cannot describe the charm which this little plant gives to the places in which it abounds.

By the side of the preceding grows Viola cucullata, and it, too, is at its gayest late in March or early in April. This is none of your modest Violets retiring and hiding in the shade, and the sun shines on no brighter or richer blue than that of the corolla of this plant. Out in the meadows, amongst the pure green young leaves of Poa pratensis, this has no peer at this time of year. In my efforts after the application of generalisations, I remember how I used to spoil this lovely plant when I had charge of it at Kew. Along with many more requiring the same sort of treatment as this, I put it beneath the dark shadow of an ugly screen, and indulged in a lot of other foolishnesses, such as putting many little stones about its roots. This last, however, was performed at the bidding of another. I am going to be very candid and tell my mistakes, feeling certain that this is the best way to put others on their guard.