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The Woodlands orchids, described and illustrated

by Frederick Boyle · English · Gutenberg #32205 · 452,798 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Woodlands orchids, described and illustrated
        with stories of orchid-collecting,

Author: Frederick Boyle

Illustrator: J. L. MacFarlane


        
Release date: May 2, 2010 [eBook #32205]
                Most recently updated: January 6, 2021

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODLANDS ORCHIDS, DESCRIBED AND ILLUSTRATED ***




Produced by Ben Beasley, Jana Srna and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by Biodiversity Heritage Library.)









THE WOODLANDS ORCHIDS




[Illustration: ZYGO-COLAX × WOODLANDSENSE.]




  THE WOODLANDS ORCHIDS

  DESCRIBED AND ILLUSTRATED

  _WITH STORIES OF ORCHID-COLLECTING_


  BY
  FREDERICK BOYLE

  Author of 'Camp Notes,' 'Legends of My Bungalow,'
  'About Orchids, A Chat,' etc, etc, etc.


  _COLOURED PLATES BY J. L. MACFARLANE, F.R.H.S._


  London
  MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
  NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
  1901

  _All rights reserved_




This work is not of the class which needs a Preface. But to the Editors of
the _Pall Mall Gazette_, _Sunday Times_, _Black and White_, _Chambers's
Journal_, _Wide Wide World_, and _Badminton Magazine_ I am indebted for
license to republish my stories of Orchid-seeking, and it is pleasant to
acknowledge their courtesy. If those tales amuse the general reader, I
trust that other portions of the work will be found not uninteresting, nor
even unprofitable, by orchid-growers. Plain descriptions of scarce species
and varieties are not readily accessible. A mere list of the hybrids in
the Woodlands collection would be found useful, pending the issue of that
international catalogue which must be undertaken shortly; but beyond this
I have noted the peculiarities of colour and form in such of the progeny
as seemed most curious. No doubt many experts will wish that I had
described some which are passed over and omitted some described--without
agreeing among themselves in either case perhaps. But I have done my best.





CONTENTS


                                       PAGE

  HOW THE COLLECTION WAS FORMED           1

  THE CATTLEYA HOUSE                      7

  A LEGEND OF ROEZL                      17

  THE CATTLEYA HOUSE--_Continued_        25

  A STORY OF CATTLEYA BOWRINGIANA        37

  A STORY OF CATTLEYA MOSSIAE            45

  CYPRIPEDIUM INSIGNE                    53

  STORY OF CATTLEYA SKINNERI ALBA        59

  THE PHALAENOPSIS HOUSE                 67

  STORY OF VANDA SANDERIANA              71

  STORY OF PHALAENOPSIS SANDERIANA       79

  HYBRID CATTLEYAS AND LAELIAS           87

  A LEGEND OF MADAGASCAR                 99

  LAELIA PURPURATA                      107

  STORY OF DENDROBIUM SCHRÖDERIANUM     113

  STORY OF DENDROBIUM LOWII             121

  CALANTHE HOUSE                        129

  STORY OF COELOGYNE SPECIOSA           135

  CATTLEYA LABIATA HOUSE                143

  A STORY OF BRASSAVOLA DIGBYANA        151

  LYCASTES, SOBRALIAS, AND ANGULOAS     159

  STORY OF SOBRALIA KIENASTIANA         163

  THE CYPRIPEDIUM HOUSE                 171

  STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM CURTISII         183

  CYPRIPEDIUMS--_Continued_             191

  STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM PLATYTAENIUM     205

  STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM SPICERIANUM      213

  THE COOL HOUSE                        221

  STORY OF ODONTOGLOSSUM HARRYANUM      229

  MASDEVALLIAS                          237

  ONCIDIUMS                             239

  STORY OF ONCIDIUM SPLENDIDUM          241

  LAELIA JONGHEANA                      249

  STORY OF BULBOPHYLLUM BARBIGERUM      253

  INDEX                                 261




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


  Zygo-Colax, Woodlands variety          _Frontispiece_

  Laelia elegans cyanthus                _To face page_ 16

    "       "    Macfarlanei                     "      24

  Cattleya Trianae Measuresiae                   "      35

     "     Schroderae Miss Mary Measures         "      52

  Cypripedium insigne Sanderae                   "      57

  Laelia grandis tenebrosa, Walton Grange var.   "      86

  Cattleya labiata Measuresiana                  "     142

  Lycaste Skinneri R. H. Measures                "     160

  Cypripedium William Lloyd                      "     182

      "       Rothwellianum                      "     190

      "       reticulatum, var. Bungerothi       "     204

      "       Dr. Ryan                           "     219

  Odontoglossum Rossii, Woodlands variety        "     228

       "        × Harryano-crispum               "     240

       "        coronarium                       "     256




HOW THE COLLECTION WAS FORMED


This question may be answered shortly; it was formed--at least the
beginning of it--under compulsion. After fifteen years of very hard work,
Mr. Measures broke down. The doctor prescribed a long rest, and insisted
on it; but the patient was equally determined not to risk the career just
opening, with an assurance of success, by taking a twelve-months' holiday.
Reluctantly the doctor sought an alternative. Yachting he
proposed--hunting--shooting; at length, in despair, horse-racing!
Zealously and conscientiously undertaken, that pursuit yields a good deal
of employment for the mind. And one who follows it up and down the country
must needs spend several hours a day in the open air. Such was the
argument; we may suspect that the good man had a sporting turn and hoped
to get valuable tips from a grateful client.

But nothing would suit. After days of cogitation, at his wits' end, the
doctor conceived an idea which might have occurred to some at the outset.
'Take a house in the suburbs,' he advised, 'with a large garden. Cultivate
some special variety of plant and make a study of it.' This commended
itself. As a boy Mr. Measures loved gardening. In the Lincolnshire hamlet
where he was born, the vicar took pride in his roses and things, as is the
wont of vicars who belong to the honest old school. It was an hereditary
taste with the Measures' kin. Forthwith a house, with seven acres of land
about it, was purchased at Streatham--'The Woodlands,' destined to win
renown in the annals of Orchidology.

But the special variety of plant had still to be selected. It was to be
something with a flower, as Mr. Measures understood; hardy, and so
interesting in some way, no matter what, that a busy man could find
distraction in studying it. Such conditions are not difficult for one
willing to spend hours over the microscope; but in that case, if the mind
were relieved, the body would suffer. At the present day orchids would
suggest themselves at once; but twenty or twenty-five years ago they were
not so familiar to the public at large. One friend proposed roses, another
carnations, a third chrysanthemums, and a fourth, fifth, and sixth
proposed chrysanthemums, carnations, and roses. Though the house and the
large garden had been provided, Mr. Measures did not see his way.

I am tempted to quote some remarks of my own, published in October 1892.
'I sometimes think that orchids were designed at their inception to
comfort the elect of human beings in this anxious age--the elect, I say,
among whom the rich may or may not be included. Consider! To generate them
must needs have been the latest "act of creation," as the ancient formula
goes--in the realm of plants and flowers at least. The world was old
already when orchids took place therein; for they could not have lived in
those ages which preceded the modern order. Doubtless this family sprang
from some earlier and simpler organisation, like all else. But the Duke of
Argyll's famous argument against the "Origin of Man" applies here: that
organisation could not have been an orchid. Its anatomy forbids
fertilisation by wind, or even, one may say, by accident. Insects are
necessary; in many cases insects of peculiar structure. Great was the
diversion of the foolish--eminent savants may be very foolish
indeed--when Darwin pronounced that if a certain moth, which he had never
seen nor heard of, were to die out in Madagascar, the noblest of the
Angraecums must cease to exist. To the present day no one has seen or
heard of that moth, but the humour of the assertion is worn out. Only
admiring wonder remains, for we know now that the induction is
unassailable. Upon such chances does the life of an orchid depend. It
follows that insects must have been well established before those plants
came into being; and insects in their turn could not live until the earth
had long "borne fruit after its kind."

'But from the beginning of things until this century, until this
generation, one might almost say--civilised man could not enjoy the
boon.... We may fancy the delight of the Greeks and the rivalry of
millionaires at Rome had these flowers been known. "The Ancients" were by
no means unskilful in horticulture--witness that astonishing report of the
display at the coronation of Ptolemy Philadelphus, given by Athenaeus. But
of course they could not have known how to begin growing orchids, even
though they obtained them--I speak of epiphytes and foreign species,
naturally. From the date of the Creation--which we need not fix--till the
end of the Eighteenth Century, ships were not fast enough to convey them
alive; a fact not deplorable since they would have been killed forthwith
on landing.

'... So I return to the argument. It has been seen that orchids are the
latest and most finished work of the Creator; that the blessing was
withheld from civilised man until, step by step, he gained the conditions
necessary to receive it. Order and commerce in the first place; mechanical
invention next, such as swift ships and easy communications; glass-houses,
and a means of heating them which could be regulated with precision and
maintained with no excessive care; knowledge both scientific and
practical; the enthusiasm of wealthy men; the thoughtful and patient
labour of skilled servants--all these were needed to secure for us the
delights of orchid culture. What boon granted to mankind stands in like
case? I think of none. Is it unreasonable then to believe, as was said,
that orchids were designed at their inception to comfort the elect in this
anxious age?'[1]

Mr. Measures, however, was quite unconscious of his opportunities. It was
mere chance which put him on the right track. Tempted by the prospect of
obtaining something, forgotten now, in the way of roses or carnations or
chrysanthemums, he attended a local sale. Presently some pots of
Cypripedium barbatum were put up, in bud and flower. They seemed curious
and pretty--he bought them. It was a relief to find that his gardener did
not show any surprise or embarrassment at the sight--appeared to be
familiar with the abnormal objects indeed. But it would have been
subversive of discipline to ask how they were called. So Mr. Measures
worked round and round the secret, putting questions--what heat did the
things require, what soil, would the green-house already built suit them,
and so forth? Finally, in talking, the gardener pronounced the
name--Cypripedium. Planting this long word deep and firm in his memory Mr.
Measures hurried to the house, looked it out in the multitudinous books on
gardening already stored there, and discovered that Cypripedium is an
orchid. Pursuing the investigation further, he learned that orchids are
the choicest of flowers, that several thousand species of them, all
beautiful and different, may be cultivated, that some are easy and some
difficult. It dawned upon him then that this might well be the special
variety of plant which would answer his purpose.

But he was not the man to choose a hobby without grave deliberation and
experiment. The very next essay, only three days afterwards, suggested a
doubt. He saw a plant of Dendrobium thyrsiflorum in flower, and carried it
home in a whirl of astonishment and delight; but next morning every bloom
had faded, and the gardener assured him that no more could be expected for
twelve months. This was a damper. Evidently a prudent person should think
twice before accumulating plants which flower but once a year, and then
last only four days. But just at that time, by good fortune, he made
acquaintance with Mr. Godseff who, in short, explained things--not too
hastily, but in a long course of instruction. And so, making sure of every
step as he advanced, Mr. Measures gradually formed the Woodlands
collection.

       *       *       *       *       *

Perhaps it would be logical to describe the arrangement of our treasures.
But an account which might be useful would demand much space, and it could
interest very few readers. It may suffice, therefore, to note that there
are thirty-one 'houses,' distributed in nine groups, or detached
buildings. All through, the health and happiness of the plants are
consulted in the first place, the convenience of visitors in the second,
and show not at all; which is to say that the roofs are low, and the paths
allow two persons to walk abreast in comfort but no more.

The charge of these thirty-one houses is committed to Mr. J. Coles, with
thirteen subordinates regularly employed. Mr. Coles was bred if not born
among orchids, when his father had charge of the late Mr. Smee's admirable
garden, at Wallington. After rising to the post of Foreman there, he
entered the service of Captain Terry, Peterborough House, Fulham, as
Foreman of the orchid houses; but two years afterwards this fine
collection was dispersed, at Captain Terry's death. Then Mr. Coles went
to enlarge his experience in Messrs. Sander's vast establishment at St.
Albans. In due time the office of Orchid and Principal Foreman in the Duke
of Marlborough's houses was offered to him, and at Blenheim he remained
eight years. Thence he proceeded to the Woodlands.


[Illustration: MR. J. COLES.]




THE CATTLEYA HOUSE


Our Cattleya House is 187 feet long, 24 feet wide; glass screens divide it
into seven compartments. The roof, of a single span, is 11 feet high in
the centre, 4 feet at the sides.

The compartment we enter first is devoted to Laelia elegans mostly. On the
big block of tufa in front, blooms of Cattleya and Laelia are displayed
nearly all the year in small tubes among the ferns and moss; for we do not
exhaust our plants by leaving the flowers on them when fully open. Scarlet
Anthuriums crown the block, and among these, on the bare stone, is a
Laelia purpurata, growing strongly, worth observation. For this plant was
deadly sick last year, beyond hope of recovery; as an experiment Mr. Coles
set it on the tufa, wired down, and forthwith it began to pick up
strength. But in fact the species loves to fix itself on limestone when at
home in Santa Catarina, as does L. elegans.

It may be desirable to point out that the difference between Cattleyas and
Laelias as genera is purely 'botanical'--serious enough in that point of
view, but imperceptible to the eye.

A special glory of Woodlands is the collection of L. elegans. In this
house, where only the large plants are stored, we count five hundred;
seven hundred more are scattered up and down. Nowhere in the world can be
seen so many examples of this exquisite variety--certainly not in its
birthplace, for there it is very nearly exterminated. In such a multitude,
rare developments of form and colour must needs abound, for no orchid is
so variable. In fact, elegans is merely a title of convenience, with no
scientific value. It dwells--soon we must say it dwelt--in the closest
association with Laelia purpurata, Cattleya intermedia, and Cattleya
guttata Leopoldii; by the intermingling of these three it was assuredly
created. Mr. Rolfe has satisfied himself that the strain of Laelia
purpurata is always present. By alliance with Catt. Leopoldii the dark
forms were produced; by alliance with Catt. intermedia the white. Since
that misty era, of course, cross-fertilisation has continued without
ceasing, and the combinations are endless.

Evidently this suggestion is reasonable, but if an unscientific person may
venture to say so, it does not appear to be sufficient. Among six flowers
of L. elegans five will have sepals and petals more or less rosy, perhaps
only a shade, perhaps a tint so deep that it approaches crimson, like
Blenheimensis or Turneri. Could one of the three parents named supply this
colour? Two of them, indeed, are often rosy; in some rare instances the
hue of L. purpurata may be classed as deep rose. But these are such
notable exceptions that they would rather suggest a fourth parent, a red
Cattleya or Laelia, which has affected not elegans alone but purpurata and
intermedia also. Nothing of the sort exists now, I believe, in the island
of Santa Catarina. But we are contemplating aeons of time, and changes
innumerable may have occurred. The mainland is but a few miles away; once
Santa Catarina was attached to it. And there, a short distance to the
north, lives Laelia pumila, which might supply the rosy tinge.

Several artificial hybrids of Catt. guttata Leopoldii have been raised. By
alliance with Catt. Dowiana it produces Catt. Chamberlainiana; with Catt.
superba, Feuillata; with Catt. Hardyana, Fowlerii; with Catt. Loddigesii,
Gandii; with Catt. Mendelii, Harrisii; with Laelio-Cattleya Marion, C. H.
Harrington; with Catt. quadricolor, Mitchelii; with Catt. Warcewiczii,
Atalanta. Catt. Victoria Regina also is assumed to be a natural hybrid of
Leopoldii with Catt. labiata. There may be other crosses probably, since
no official record of Hybridisation exists as yet. Curiously enough,
however, no one seems to have mated Cattleya Leopoldii with Lælia
purpurata so far as I can learn. Thus it is not yet proved that L. elegans
sprang from that alliance.

But the hybridisers have an opening here not less profitable than
interesting. For the natural supply is exhausted--if any stickler for
accuracy object that some still arrive every year, they may overhaul their
Boswell and make a note. Sir, said his hero, if I declare that there is no
fruit in an orchard, I am not to be charged with speaking falsely because
a man, examining every tree, finds two apples and three pears--I have not
the book at hand to quote the very words. When L. elegans was discovered,
in 1847, it must have been plentiful in its native home beyond all other
species on record. The first collectors so described it. But that home was
a very small island, where it clung to the rocks. Every plant within reach
has long since been cleared away; those remaining dwell in perilous places
on the cliffs. To gather them a man must be let down from above, or he
must risk his life in climbing from below. But under these conditions the
process of extermination still proceeds, and in a time to be counted by
months it will be complete.

In describing a few of the most precious varieties at Woodlands, I may
group them in a manner to display by contrast the striking diversities
which an orchid may assume while retaining the essential points that
distinguish it from others. One form, however, I must mention here, for it
is too common to be classed among peculiarities, yet to my mind its
colouring is the softest and most dainty of all. Petal and sepal are
'stone-colour,' warmed, one cannot say even tinged, with crimson. Nature
has no hue more delicate or sweeter.

_Adonis._--Bright rosy petals--sepals paler--lip and edges of lobes
carmine.

_F. Sander._--The latest pseudo-bulb measures 2 feet 3 inches--topping the
best growth of its native forest by six inches; from base to top of the
spike, 4 feet less 1 inch, and as thick as a walking-cane. This grand
plant has been in cultivation for three years. The sepals and petals are
those of L. e. Turneri; the lip resembles a fine L. purpurata.

The plant next to this, unnamed, has pseudo-bulbs almost as long, but
scarcely thicker than straws.

_Empress._--A very dark form of Turneri.

_Medusa._--Tall, slender pseudo-bulbs--very dark.

_Neptune_, on the contrary, has pseudo-bulbs short and fat, whilst the
colouring is pale.

_H. E. Moojen._--Doubtless a natural hybrid with L. purpurata, which takes
equally after both parents.

_Godseffiana._--Nearly white; the broad lip carmine--lobes of the same
hue, widely expanded.

_Mrs. F. Sander._--A round flower, very dark rose; sepals and petals
dotted all over, as in Cattleya Leopoldii.

_Red King._--Yellowish throat. Lip good colour and round, but narrow,
without the prolongation of some or the lateral extension of others.
Curiously like the shape of L. Perrinii.

_Stella._--Dusky rose and similarly spotted, but different in
shape--sepals and petals much thinner.

_Boadicea._--Sepals and petals deep rose. Long shovel lip crimson-lake.

_H. G. Gifkins._--The sepals are palest green, with a rosy tinge; petals
pale mauve. The lip, maroon-crimson, spreads out broadly from a neck
almost half an inch long, and its deep colour stretches right up the
throat.

_Mrs. R. H. Measures._--Pure white, even the lip, except a touch of
purple-crimson in the centre and slender crimson veins.

_L.-C. Harold Measures._--A fine hybrid of L.e. Blenheimensis and Catt.
superba splendens, which takes mostly after the former in colouring, the
latter in shape. It is a round flower, with a crimson lip immensely broad;
two small yellow spots are half concealed beneath the tube. Sepals
greenish tawny, petals dull pink with crimson lines.

_Sade Lloyd._--A very pretty form. Sepals and petals rosy, tinted with
fawn colour. The crimson lip is edged with a delicate white line, as are
the lobes, which fold completely over the tube.

_Doctor Ryan_ is distinguished by a very long protruding lip.

_Ophelia._--As big and as round as Catt. Mossiae. Tube very thick and
wide.

_Macfarlanei._--We have two so named. In this grand example the
pseudo-bulbs are more than 2 feet high, proportionately thick. Eight or
nine flowers on the spike. Sepals and petals glaucous green. Long lip of
brightest crimson.

_Leucotata._--Sepals and petals white with rosy tips--lip white, saving
rosy lines and a rosy stain.

_Nyleptha._--Sepals and petals fawn colour, edged with rose. Very wide lip
of deepest crimson.

_Haematochila._--Sepals stone-colour flushed with pink, petals dusky pink.
Lip carmine-purple, rather narrow, shaped like a highly ornamental spade.

_Paraleuka._--All snowy white save the carmine lip, the form of which is
curiously neat and trim.

_Tenebrosa._--In this specially dark variety the tube is long, closely
folded, rose-white, with lines of crimson proceeding from the back. As
they meet at the lower edge they form a border as deep in hue as the lip.
But our darkest elegans, eighteen years in the collection, has not bloomed
for six seasons past.

_Schilleriana splendens._--Sepals and petals white, with a faintest rosy
tinge and a yellow stain on the midrib. Lip long, straight, forked at the
tip, liveliest crimson-purple.

_Stelzneriana._--Rosy-white. The crimson of the lip does not spread all
over but lies in a triangular blotch.

_Measuresiana._--Sepals greenish-yellow, the leaf-like petals similar,
pink towards the edges, lined with rose. Both spotted at the tip with
crimson. The lip is that of Catt. bicolor, short comparatively, straight,
and darkest crimson.

_Ladymead._--The white sepals and petals have a palest tinge of rose. On
the lip are two broad yellow eyes after the fashion of Catt. gigas.

_Venus._--Almost white. Petals veined, sepals dotted, with crimson--the
underside of both heavily stained. Lip almost fawn-colour at the edges,
with veins widening and deepening into crimson at the throat.

_Luculenta._--A very pretty hybrid of Messrs. Sander's raising, palest
mauve. Lip rather narrow but grand in colour. Shovel-shaped.

_Frederico._--A very odd variety--small. The stone-coloured sepals are
outlined with rose, the petals with purplish pink. Both are speckled with
brown. Lip brightest maroon-crimson, prettily scalloped.

_Platychila._--Pale purple. Remarkable for its immense crimson lip.

_Luciana._--Green petals, curling strongly towards the tip; petals
widening from the stalk like a leaf, pink with a green midrib. The lobes
white, narrow, square, and deepest crimson, the lip that of Catt. bicolor.

_Monica._--Snow-white. Petals broad, sepals strongly depressed. In the
middle of the spreading crimson lip is a patch almost white.

_Tautziana._--Sepals mauve, petals violet, somewhat darker, lip almost
maroon. It is singular in shape also, forked like a bird's tail.

_Blenheimensis._--Sepals and petals rose with a violet tinge; very broad
labellum with a distinct neck, emerging from a short tawny tube--carmine
in the throat, purplish at the edges.

_Macroloba._--The lobes here are white and enormous. Enormous also is the
lip, and singularly beautiful, deepest crimson at the throat, with a broad
purple margin netted over with crimson lines.

_Juno._--This also has a very large white tube. Sepals and petals rosy,
rather slender, fine crimson lip.

_Matuta._--Large, broad and shapely. Sepals greenish, with a pink tinge,
petals rosy-tawny. Tube very short, lip brightest crimson, standing out
clear as a flag.

_Minerva._--One of the most spreading, but thin. Colour rose, the petals
darker. Narrow sepals. Tube white. Lip carmine.

_Princess Stephanie._--Sepals bright green, petals slightly green, edged
with pale purple, and crimson lines. Bright lip after the model of Catt.
bicolor.

_Amphion._--A dark variety. The long lip has two eyes like Catt. gigas.

_Beatrice._--A hybrid of L.e. Schilleriana and L. purpurata, remarkable
for its lip, long and shovel-shaped, nearly the same breadth throughout.

_Morreniana._--Sepals dullish red purple--the lower strongly bowed, as are
the wide petals of similar hue. The lip spreads on either side of the
white tube like the wings of a purple-crimson butterfly.

_Mrs. Mahler._--A hybrid--Catt. Leop. × Catt. bicolor. Very small but
very pretty. Sepals palest green, petals almost white, tinged with pink at
the edges. The shovel-shaped lip pinkish crimson.

_Euracheilas._--Sepals dusky stone-colour, edged with pink, petals all
dusky pink. Very large but narrow. The maroon-crimson lip extends at right
angles from the tube, without any neck.

_Schilleriana._--The variety most clearly allied to L. purpurata. White or
palest rose of sepal and petal, the latter marked with purplish lines at
the base. Lip a grand purple-crimson, fading sharply towards the edges.

_Weathersiana._--Sepals palest tawny suffused with rose, petals mauve. The
broad lip of fine colour is so strongly indented that it resembles the
bipennis of the Amazons.

_Euspatha._--Reichenbach suggested that this is a hybrid of L. Boothiana
or L. purpurata with some Cattleya--probably intermedia. It is white, with
broad, sepals and petals. The tube is open nearly all its length, and the
wide lip of crimson, fading to purplish edges, shows scarcely an
indentation.

_Hallii._--Crimson-purple sepals--petals darker; the lip approaches
maroon.

_Oweniae._--In this case the sepals and petals--which are
leaf-shaped--stand out boldly, straight on end--rosy with mauve shading,
more pronounced in the latter; lip round, of a charming carmine.

_Incantans._--A very large and stately bloom. Sepals of the tender warm
stone so often mentioned, petals broad and waved, of the same colour down
the middle, flushing to rosy purple on each side. A fine crimson-velvet
lip.

_Melanochites_ is a very symmetrical flower, though not 'compact,' as the
phrase goes. All lively rose-lake, the petals a darker tone. The grand
broad lip of purple crimson has a pretty yellow blotch on either side
beneath the tube. It is sharply forked.

_Pyramus._--Sepals of the flushed stone-colour which I, at least, admire
so much; but the flush is more conspicuous than usual. Petals clear rose.
Lip vivid crimson, with the same yellow blotches under the white tube.

_Bella._--The purplish crimson sepals and petals are tipped with buff. Lip
shovel-shaped, dark crimson.

_Sappho._--Here the pale purple sepals only are tipped with buff, while
the petals, which curl over, are rose. The carmine of the lip is very
pretty.

_Macfarlanei II._--Sepals of the same colour, but greenish, strongly
marked with the distinctive spots of Catt. Leopoldii, edged with rose;
petals rose, lined with crimson on either side of the white midrib. The
long tube opening shows a strongly yellow throat. The labellum is short,
but superb in colour.

_Myersiana._--A large form. Sepals dusky, tinged with crimson at the
edges. Petals softly crimson. Very long tube. The crimson lip has a pale
margin, and a pale blotch in the front.

_Cleopatra._--One of the very best. Like that above in petal and sepal,
but paler. The broad tube, however, is snow-white, saving a touch of
magenta-crimson, bright as a ruby, at the tip of the lobes. And the lip,
finely frilled, is all magenta-crimson, with not a mark upon it from
throat to edge.

_Wolstenholmae._--White, the sepals tinted with purple. Petals broad, with
a purple outline. Lip narrow and long, of a colour unique, which may be
described as crimson-purple. In the throat are two curious white bars;
between them run arching purple lines close set, which, on the outer side
of the bars, extend to the edge of the lip. A very remarkable flower.

_Eximia._--Also very remarkable--not to say uncanny. The narrow sepals and
petals, almost white, have a mottling of rosy mauve along the edges,
which looks unwholesome, as if caused by disease. But the long
paddle-shaped lip, crimson, changing to purple as it expands, is very
fine. It has two pale yellow 'eyes' elongated in an extraordinary manner.

_Lord Roberts._--Very handsome and peculiar. The colour of the sepals,
strongly folded back, is warm grey, tinged and faintly lined with crimson;
this tinge is much more pronounced in the petals. The large tubular lip,
finely opened, is uniform crimson-magenta, not so dark as usual.


[Illustration: LÆLIO-CATTLEYA × ELEGANS VAR. CYANTHUS.]




A LEGEND OF ROEZL


So soon as I began to take interest in orchids I was struck with the
number of odd facts and incidents in that field of botany. One gains but a
glimpse of them, as a rule, in some record of travel or some scientific
treatise; and at an early date it occurred to me that if the stories to
which these fragments belong could be recovered, they would prove to be
not only curious and interesting but amusing--sometimes terrible. I began
to collect, therefore, and in the pages following I offer some of the
results.

It is right to begin with a legend of Roezl, if only because his name will
often recur; but also he was incomparably the greatest of those able and
energetic men who have roamed the savage world in search of new plants for
our study and enjoyment. Almost any other mortal who had gone through
adventures and experiences such as his in our time would have made a book
and a sensation; but the great collector never published anything, I
believe, beyond a statement of scientific facts from time to time. This is
not the place to deal with his career; I am only telling stories. But it
is not to be dismissed without a word.

Roezl will be gratefully remembered so long as science and horticulture
survive the triumph of democracy. I have heard it alleged that he
discovered eight hundred new species of plant or tree. It is credible. In
the memoir published by the _Gardeners' Chronicle_, which was brief of
necessity, fourscore were enumerated, with the addition, here, of 'many
others,' there, of 'etc.' Roezl was no specialist. A wise regard for his
own interest confined him almost to orchids in the later years. But in his
catalogue of achievements I find new lilies, new conifers, fuchsias,
agaves, cacti, begonias, saxifrage, dahlias, convolvuli, tropaeolums,
tacsonias--a multitude, in fact, beyond reckoning. In one expedition he
sent eight tons of orchids to Europe; in another ten tons of cacti,
agaves, dion, and orchids! The record of his travels is startling; and it
must be observed that Roezl's first aim always was to escape from the
beaten track. His journeyings were explorations. Many an Indian tribe
never saw a white man before, and some, perhaps, have never seen one
since. Mexico was his first hunting-ground, and thither he returned more
than once; Cuba the second. Thence he was drawn to the Rocky Mountains,
California, and Sierra Nevada. Then in succession he visited Panama, New
Granada, Sierra Nevada again, California again, Washington Territory,
Panama again, Bonaventura, the Cauca valley, Antioquia, Northern Peru,
crossed the Andes, returned to Bonaventura, and thence to Europe. Starting
again he searched Colorado Territory, New Mexico, California, the Sierra
Madre; worked his way to Caracas, thence through Venezuela, crossed to
Cuba, to Vera Cruz, explored the state of Oajaca in Mexico, sailed to
Lima, crossed the Andes again to Tarma and Changamaga, back into Southern
Peru, wandered as far as the Lake of Titicaca, searched Bolivia, traversed
the Snowy Mountains to Yungas, back to Lima and Arica, crossed the Andes a
third time, visited Ecuador, and made his way back to the valley of the
Cauca. How many thousand miles of journeying this chronicle represents is
a problem for laborious youth. And the botanist uses roads, railways, and
horses only to get him from one scene of operations to another. He works
afoot.

It is good to know that Roezl had his reward. Eighteen years ago he died,
full of years and honours, in his native Bohemia. And the Kaiser himself
was represented by a high dignitary at the unveiling of his statue in
Prague.

The experiences I am about to tell were made in the course of that long
march through the woods from La Guayra in Venezuela to Ocaña in New
Granada. Among the special trophies of it was Cattleya Roezlii, a variety
of Cattleya speciosissima; but I am not aware that the secluded tribe
whose habits interested Roezl so much had any immediate connection with
this plant. Perhaps before going further it may be well to note that any
assertion of the great Collector might be admitted not only as an honest
report, but also as a fact which he had verified, so far as was possible.
Dr. Johnson was not more careful to speak the whole truth and nothing but
the truth.

It was somewhere round the sources of the Amazons that Roezl sojourned for
a while in a village of those strange people whom the Spaniards call
Pintados--'painted' Indians. Their colour, in fact, is piebald--light
brown, dark brown, and a livid tint commonly described as red, in
blotches. They are seen occasionally in Guiana, more rarely in Venezuela
and Brazil. The colouring is ascribed to disease, rather because it is so
hideous and abnormal, perhaps, than for a solid reason. Roezl thought it
'natural.'

He was making his way through those endless forests by compass, with two
mestizos from Columbia who had served him on a former journey, and a negro
boy. For guides and carriers he depended on the Indians, who passed him
from settlement to settlement. It is fitting to observe here that Roezl
never carried firearms of any sort at any time--so he used to say. Of
great stature and prodigious muscle, utterly fearless, never unprepared,
happen what might, he passed forty years in such wandering as I have
outlined, and never had occasion to strike a blow. Several times he found
himself between contending factions, the armed mobs of Spanish America,
and lost everything; many times was he robbed, but never, I believe,
assaulted. Nerve and humour protected him. As for the wild Indians, I
fancy that they were overawed by his imposing appearance; and especially
by an iron hook which occupied the place of his left hand, smashed by an
accident.

This system of travelling at leisure from settlement to settlement enabled
him to pick up a few necessary words of each language, and to give warning
of his approach to the next tribe. The Pintados welcomed him in a quiet
fashion--that is, the chiefs did not object when he repaired an empty hut
and took possession. It was at the end of a long 'street,' parallel to the
river. The rude dwellings were not scattered. Each stood opposite to its
fellow across the way, and Roezl noticed a large flat stone in the middle
between every pair. Towards nightfall the Indians trooped back from their
fields; but all the women and grown girls entered at one end of the
village, the men at the other. This was curious. As they marched up, the
former dispersed in huts to the right hand, the latter to the left, each
sex keeping to its own side of the stones. After depositing their tools
the men came out and gathered silently around the strangers'
quarters--only very young children ran to and fro. After a time the women
reappeared with steaming calabashes, which they bore half across the road,
and set, each of them, on the stone before her dwelling. Then they
returned. Forthwith the males strolled back, carried the supper to their
respective huts, and in due time replaced the empty calabash upon the
stone, whence the women removed it.

It will be understood that these strange ceremonies interested Roezl.
Evidently the husbands lived on one side of the street, the wives and
young children on the other. The moon was full and he watched for hours.
After supper the males returned to squat and smoke around his hut,
scarcely speaking; but one after another they withdrew presently, each to
his own abode. So long as the moonlight enabled Roezl to observe, not one
crossed the way. And afterwards he discovered that this is an eternal
rule--a husband never enters his wife's dwelling. The separation of the
sexes is complete.

Long before satisfying himself on this point Roezl saw enough to convince
him that the usages of this secluded people must be well worth study. He
remained among them as long as he could, and even made memoranda--the
first and only time, I believe, that he kept records other than botanical
or scientific. It may be hoped that they survive and will come to light,
since his papers are now stored in the museum at Prague. I am dependent on
the memory of those whom he amused with curt stories of adventure over
pipe and glass on his visits to England. They are many, and they preserve
the liveliest remembrance of one to whom Johnson's remarks on the greatest
of modern orators are peculiarly applicable. 'If a man were to go by
chance at the same time with Burke under a shed to escape a shower, he
would say, "This is an extraordinary man."' Unfortunately, it is the most
striking observations alone which they recall, with but a vague impression
of others.

Every hearer asked, of course, how the race could avoid extinction under
such circumstances? But it appears that the separation is only public--an
exaggerated prudery, one might describe it, though we may be sure that the
sentiment lies infinitely deeper. The sexes work apart, as has been said;
after the men have cleared a piece of ground they leave it to the women,
and clear another for themselves. But when a youth has a mind to marry, in
the first place he builds a hut in the forest. Then he awaits the train of
women returning, steps gently among them, and takes the maiden of his
fancy by the hand. She throws him off at once if disinclined, and there is
an end of it; otherwise she suffers him to lead her a step before freeing
herself. Day after day in that case the invitation is repeated, and the
maiden takes two steps, then three, until at length she quits the
procession entirely and surrenders. There is no ceremony of marriage, but,
so far as Roezl could gather, the bond is absolutely sacred; in fact, if
we think of it, those conditions of life forbid intrigue. It should be
added that the other women and girls studiously ignore these proceedings,
and that till the last moment a damsel may change her mind, repulsing the
lover favoured hitherto.

A bride remains in the woodland hut for several weeks, not a soul visiting
her except the husband. Meantime he builds a 'town house' for himself, and
the mother or female relatives build one opposite for his wife. In fixing
the stone between them there is a ceremony, as Roezl gathered, but the
nature of it he was unable to understand. Though the pair never meet again
in public as long as they live, they spend as much time as they please
together in the forest. And really, after due consideration, I cannot but
think that the system shows remarkable sagacity. Truth compels me to add,
however, that Roezl suspected infanticide. We may hope he was mistaken.
Why should a people living as do these restrict the number of their
children? The battle for existence is not desperate with them apparently,
since they till the soil, and their territory, in effect, is boundless. No
Indian race of South America feels the pride of caste; if these do, they
are a notable exception in that as in other respects. Girls receive no
dower; the expense of marriage, as has been seen, is _nil_. Why should
they limit the family? We know that obvious reason does not always guide
the savage in his habits. But when a painful fact is not assured we may
allow ourselves the comfort of doubting it.

This is all I have been able to collect about a most extraordinary people.
My informants do not recollect, if they heard, whether the separation of
the sexes was peculiar to this clan or general among the Pintado Indians.
In fact, I have nothing more to say about them.

It was here, however, that Roezl met with an adventure which he often
told. His hut, as has been mentioned, was the last of the row--a ruin
patched up to keep the baggage dry. He always carried a folding tressle
and a light board to fix upon it, which made a sort of desk, with a
camp-stool to match. One evening he set himself as usual to write labels
and memoranda for his herbarium. The description of a curious plant
secured that day proved difficult, and darkness had long set in. So
absorbed was the enthusiast in dissecting its anatomy that he gave no
attention to a loud purr, though conscious of the sound for some moments.
At length he raised his eyes. By the open doorway stood a creature whose
dusky fur glistened like silk in the lamplight, and great yellow eyes
stared into his. It was a black jaguar, rarest and most savage of all
felines.

So they remained, staring. Roezl felt his hour had come. He could not have
moved a limb; his hair rose and the sweat poured down. The jaguar also
kept still, purring louder and louder. Its velvet lips were slightly
raised, showing a gleam of the huge fangs. Presently it drew nearer, still
purring--came up to the tressle--arched his back like a cat, and pressed
against it. Crash fell desk, lamp, specimen box, camp-stool and
enthusiast--a clattering overthrow! The servants rushed in. No jaguar was
there.

Roezl used to attribute his escape to the practice of never carrying arms.
When the brute was approaching, he must have fired had a weapon been
handy--no man could resist the impulse. And then, whatever the issue of
the shot, he would certainly have died.


[Illustration: LÆLIO-CATTLEYA, × ELEGANS VAR. MACFARLANEI.]




THE CATTLEYA HOUSE


With L. elegans are lodged fine examples of Cattleyas gigas and aurea,
with some of their varieties; generated, as we may assume, by natural
hybridisation. These rank among the supreme treasures of the orchidist,
unequalled for size and rarity--perhaps for beauty. To those who have not
seen the offspring it might seem impossible that the stately loveliness of
the parents could be excelled. But by a very simple process Nature
achieves the feat--she combines their charms.

Of Cattleya gigas we have some two hundred specimens. It is the largest of
the genus, saving its own hybrids, a native of New Granada, discovered by
Warcewicz in 1848. He sent no plants home, and though a few were
despatched afterwards, Roezl practically introduced the species in 1870.
Conscious of supreme merit, it is far from eager to bloom; but at
Woodlands we do not personally feel this drawback.

Of course there are many varieties of Cattleya gigas, for it is truly said
that two blooms of orchid exactly alike cannot be found. But I shall
mention only two.

_Imschootiana_ is huge even above its fellows, for a flower may be nine
inches across; the colour of sepal and petal mauve, with a crimson-purple
lip of splendour beyond conception. The golden throat under a
crimson-purple tube is lined with bright crimson; the characteristic
'eyes' gamboge, fading to white.

_Sanderae._--Some may well think this the loveliest of all its lovely kin.
Probably it is a foreign strain, though remote, which gives such supreme
softness to the magenta of the lip. On that ground the golden 'eyes' shine
forth with an abruptness positively startling. The broad sepals and petals
are sweetest rosy-mauve. Even the tube is deep crimson.

Here also is Cattleya bicolor Measuresiana, an exquisite example of a
species always charming to my taste. In this instance the sepals and
petals are purest and smoothest olive green; the very long shovel-shaped
labellum magenta-crimson, outlined and tipped with white.

Of Cattleya aurea again the varieties are many. It was brought from
Antioquia, New Granada, by Wallis, in 1868. If crimson and yellow,
tastefully disposed, make the most gorgeous combination possible, as all
human beings agree, this and its sister Dowiana are the most gorgeous of
flowers. The ordinary form of Cattleya aurea is nankin yellow, but in the
variety _R. H. Measures_, sepal and petal are gamboge. The glorious lip,
opening wide from the very base, has long brownish blurs descending from
the throat, on a golden ground which fades to yellow towards the edge.
There are two clear crimson patches in the front, and the margin is clear
crimson, whilst the whole expanse is covered with fine stripes of crimson
and gold alternately.

We come to the hybrids of these two which, dwelling side by side, have
been intermarrying for ages; and their offspring again have intermarried,
forming endless combinations. Cattleya Sanderiana was first discovered
under circumstances rather odd. One of Messrs. Sander's collectors, Mr.
Mau, was hunting for Odontoglossum crispum by Bogota. He came upon a
number of Cattleyas--none of them in bloom--and gathered any that came in
his way, taking no trouble, nor even mentioning the incident in his
letters. In due course he brought them to St. Albans along with his
Odontoglossums. Mr. Mau said nothing even while the cases were being
unpacked. Apparently he had forgotten them.

'What are these Cattleyas?' asked Mr. Sander, in surprise.

'Oh, I don't know! I found them in the woods.'

Old spikes still remained upon the plants, and bunches of withered rags at
the end. Mr. Sander perceived, first, that the flower must be gigantic
beyond belief; next, that it was red.

'Go back by next mail!' he cried. 'Search the woods--gather every one!'
And Mr. Mau did actually return by next mail.

This was Cattleya Sanderiana--sometimes as much as eleven inches across;
in colour, a tender rosy-mauve. The vast lip is almost square, with a
throat of gold, lined and netted over with bright crimson. It has the
charming 'eyes' of gigas in perfection, and the enormous disc, superbly
frilled, is of the liveliest magenta crimson.

_Chrysotoxa_, another of these wondrous hybrids, 'favours' its aurea
parent; with buff-yellow petals and sepals, the lower of which hang in a
graceful bunch surrounding the huge lip of dark orange ground, with an
edging of maroon-crimson, narrow above, widening to a stately breadth
below; the whole closely covered with branching lines of crimson.

_Mrs. Fred Hardy_ is a third--divinely beautiful. White of sepal and
petal, with the vast magenta-crimson lip of Hardyana. The glorious effect
may be in part imagined.

We have yet a fourth of this amazing group--Trismegistris--most nearly
allied to Sanderiana. I have not seen this variety in bloom; it was
introduced only three years ago. But the name signifies that it is the
quintessence of all. Individual taste may not always allow that claim,
but no one disputes that it is at least equal to the finest.

But the thoughtful cannot contemplate these wondrous things with
satisfaction unalloyed. Unless some wealthy and intelligent persons in
South America undertake to cultivate them in a regular way, it is too
probable that in a generation or two they will be utterly lost; for we
cannot hope that the specimens in Europe will endure so long, however
vigorous they may be at present. Here is the letter which accompanied the
last consignment--sad reading, as I think:--

     MEDELLIN, _January 27, 1896_.

     Messrs. F. SANDER and Co.,

     St. Albans.

     GENTLEMEN--I arrived here yesterday from Alba Gumara and received
     your much honoured letter of November 11, 1895. I shall despatch
     to-morrow thirty boxes, twelve of which contain the finest of all the
     aureas, the Monte Coromee form, and eighteen cases contain the grand
     Sanderiana type, all collected from the spot where these grow mixed,
     and I shall clear them all out. They are now nearly extinguished in
     this spot, and this will surely be the last season. I have finished
     all along the Rio Dagua, where there are no plants left; the last
     days I remained in that spot the people brought in two or three
     plants a day and some came back without a single plant. I left my boy
     with the Señor Altados to explore while I despatched the boxes and
     get funds, when I shall return for the var. papilio which Altados
     promised to secure for me, and go on up to the spot called the Parama
     San Sausa. In the boxes containing the aureas you will find about 300
     seedlings which have not flowered; these are from a grove of trees
     where no plants have previously been gathered from, and where the
     finest Sanderianas and aureas grow intermingled in one family. These
     Cattleyas only flower once in a year--that is, from March to the end
     of July, and both kinds together. Some of the flowers measure upwards
     of 10 inches--and on a spike you can have nine flowers. I cannot wait
     in that fearful region longer than the flowering time; the awfully
     wild aspect of everything and scarcity of wholesome food and help
     for the work is simply maddening. If I shall find the other orchids
     you want I do not know. My boy is gone with Altados for the Oncidium.
     You may believe me that many more of these fine Cattleyas do not
     exist, and I can, after all, perhaps not find so good as may be in
     those you will now receive.

     In the last years I have seen these plants in bloom, when I was so
     ill with fever, and in no other place can you get such a fine type.

     The plants that I planted when I was taken ill no one found; no one
     has been here, and the plants had grown well and some of them very
     much rooted.

     Trusting that all will arrive in good order, I remain, gentlemen,
     your very obedient servant,

     CARL JOHANNSEN.


CATTLEYA MENDELII

The next division is styled the Mendelii house; more than three hundred
large examples of this species--to be accurate and pedantic, it should be
called a variety--occupy the centre, a hundred and eighty the stand to
right.

Cattleya Mendelii lives in the neighbourhood of Ocaña, New Granada, at an
altitude of 3500 feet. It was introduced by Messrs. Backhouse in 1870, and
named in honour of Mr. Sam Mendel, a great personage at Manchester in his
day. Distinctions of colour are very frequent. Some pronounce it the
loveliest of Cattleyas.

Among the noble specimens here, many of them chosen for individual
peculiarities, not half a dozen are named; the rest bear only letters
showing their class, and certain marks understood by the initiated. It
will be a relief when this system, or something like it, becomes general.
And the time is not distant; at least, the privilege of granting new names
at will must be restricted among those who obey the authorities.

The few plants here which enjoy a special designation are:--

_Monica Measures._--Petals rose, with a broad streak of purple down the
centre from base to point. Sepals also rose, tipped with purple. Lip of
darkest crimson, fringed.

_Lily Measures._--A very large flower, white of sepal and petal. On the
lip, somewhat pale, as if to show it off, is a splash of purple-crimson,
sharply defined.

_R. H. Measures._--Sepals and petals tinted with rose. Enormous lip, very
dark crimson, fringed.

_William Lloyd._--For this I can only repeat the last description, yet the
eye perceives a difference not inconsiderable.

_Mrs. R. H. Measures._--All white saving the yellow throat and two small
touches of purple in the front.

_Duke of Marlborough._--This variety moved the great Reichenbach, as he
said, to 'religious admiration.' No doubt it is the grandest of all
Mendeliis--which is much to say; very large, perfectly graceful in form,
exquisitely frilled. The colour of sepal and petal pink, the throat
yellow, the spreading disc magenta-crimson.

The left side of the house is filled with large plants--some two
hundred--of Cattleya Schroderae, which the learned recognise as a variety
of Cattleya Trianae. It has the great advantage, however, of flowering in
April, and thus, when discovered in 1884 by Arnold, collecting for Messrs.
Sander, it filled a gap in the succession of Cattleyas. Henceforward the
careful amateur might have one variety at least in bloom the year round.
Named of course after Baroness Schröder. All Cattleyas are scented more or
less at certain times of the day, but none so strongly as this, nor so
persistently.

It does not vary so much as most of its kin, but it shows perhaps a
greater tendency to albinism than any--as seems natural when its colours
are so much paler. Among these grand plants we have three white, notably--

_Miss Mary Measures_, of which the picture is given.

Overhead hang smaller plants of Cattleya Mossiae, Trianae, Mendelii, and
Laelia Lucasiana; among them no less than five Cattleya speciosissima
alba.

Speciosissima Dawsonii is here also, finest of the coloured
varieties--purplish rose of sepal and petal, lip large, yellow in the
upper part, rosy crimson below, with margin finely fringed; and

Laelia pumila marginata.--In its ordinary form L. pumila is one of the
loveliest flowers that blow, and admiration is enhanced by surprise when
we observe how small and slender is the plant that bears such a handsome
bloom. But this rare variety is lovelier still--its broad, rosy-crimson
sepals and petals and its superb crimson lip all outlined with white.


CATTLEYA BOWRINGIANA

The third division of the Cattleya house contains, in the centre, some
hundreds of Mendeliis; Cattleya Bowringiana on the right hand, Cattleyas
Mossiae and Wageneri on the left; all 'specimen' plants, for health and
vigour as for size.

Cattleya Bowringiana was imported fifteen years ago from British Honduras,
but it has since been found in other parts of Central America. In
colour--rosy purple, with deep purple lip, white in the throat--it does
not vary much, nor in shape; at least I have not heard of any named
varieties. But Cattleya Bowringiana in good health is always a cheering
spectacle; its young growths push with such a demonstration of
sturdiness--having to rise much beyond the ordinary stature--and its bunch
of eight or ten flowers stands so high above the foliage. Nowhere may that
pleasant spectacle be enjoyed with more satisfaction than at Woodlands.


CATTLEYA MOSSIAE

Since Cattleya Mossiae was introduced more than two generations ago, and
remains perhaps the commonest of the species, I need not describe it. Mrs.
Moss of Ottersfoot, by Liverpool, conferred the name in 1856. Love of
orchids is a heritage in that family--so is the love of rowing. The lady's
grandson, Sir J. Edwardes Moss, now living, was Stroke of the O.U.B.C. and
at Eton, as were his father and his uncle. And the ancestral collection of
orchids is still maintained.

White Mossiaes are not uncommon, though their exquisite beauty makes them
precious in all meanings of the term.

_Mrs. R. H. Measures_ is best of all--a famous variety--white of sepal and
petal. Deep and graceful frilling on the lip is always characteristic of
this species; it reaches absolute perfection here. The yellow of the
throat is much subdued, but purple lines issuing from it spread over all
the white lip, with a very curious effect. Purple also is the frilling.

_Grandiflora._--Deep rose. Petals very broad, lip immense, finely mottled
and veined with purple.

_Excelsior._--Blush-rose. Lip rosy purple, with a white margin.

_Gilbert Measures._--A superb variety. White with a faint flush. Sepals
and petals unusually solid. Lip very widespread, with purple lines and
splashes of magenta-purple.

_Gigantea._--Biggest of all. Rosy pink. The orange of the enormous lip and
the frilling specially fine.

Catt. Wageneri, though granted a specific title, is a variety of Cattleya
Mossiae, from Caracas, discovered by Wagener in 1851; white, excepting a
yellow blotch on the lip.

From the roof, among a hundred smaller plants of Cattleya, hangs a
specimen of Laelia praestans alba, as rare as lovely--all purest white,
except the lip of brilliant purple with yellow throat. Like many other
orchids from the high lands of Brazil, this will grow equally well in the
cool house. It is, in truth, a variety of L. pumila; its normal colour
rosy purple.


CATTLEYA GASKELLIANA

The fourth compartment is given up to Cattleya Gaskelliana, a species from
Venezuela, not showy, as a rule--though striking exceptions can be found,
as here--but always useful. Like Cattleya Schroderae it filled a gap when
discovered in 1883, for there was no species at the time which flowered in
July. Its normal colour is mauve; the lip has a big yellow blotch and a
mottling of purple in the front.

About four hundred plants are accommodated in this house, among them four
albinos--one with eight pseudo-bulbs and two flowering growths. But the
finest flower is

_Miss Clara Measures._--snowy white, of course, but with a lip like
Cattleya Mossiae. Among others notable are:--

_Dellensis._--A noble variety. Mauve-pink--the petals immensely broad. The
great spreading lip has a gamboge throat fading to chrome-yellow,
intersected with lines of bright crimson. The crimson of the front is
defined as sharply as if by the stroke of a paint-brush.

_Godseffiana._--Pale rosy mauve. Petals immense. Lip a curious dusky
crimson, with a narrow dusky-yellowish outline.

_Duke of Marlborough._--Gigantic. Sepals and petals bright rose; the broad
lip has the same dusky outline.

_Measuresiana._--Very pale. The crimson of the lip, which is long but
comparatively narrow, runs far up the throat, but leaving two clear yellow
'eyes' as distinct as in Cattleya gigas.

_Sanderiana._--Pale. The lip, of excellent colour, spreads so suddenly as
to form a perfect circle.

_Herbertiana._--Mauve. A very compact flower. The bright yellow of the
throat extends downwards and to either side of the lip in a very
remarkable manner. The dusky margin surrounds a purple-crimson stain,
scored with lines of deeper hue.

_Woodlandsensis._--Here the same oddity--due to natural hybridisation
doubtless--is carried much further. The whole disc of the lip is buff,
with only the merest touch of purple on either side the central line, and
another, scarcely perceptible, at the tip.

Along the roof hang small plants of Cattleya gigas and others.


FIFTH DIVISION

The fifth division is a resting-place, where one may sit beneath a grand
specimen of Kentia Forsteri, surrounded by palms as in a nook of the
jungle, to compare notes and talk of orchids. After such refreshment we
enter the last compartment.


CATTLEYA TRIANAE

To left here are more Mendeliis, to right more Bowringianas, labiatas, and
Trianaes mixed; rows of labiata overhead. Specimen Trianaes occupy the
centre--some two hundred.

This again is a species so old and so familiar that I need not describe
it. But there is none more variable, and we have some of the most striking
diversities here.

_Macfarlanei._--An immense flower, white, with the faintest possible
flush. The great lip, vivid orange beneath the tube, changes to white
above the disc. To this succeeds a blaze of purple-crimson, outlined in
two semicircles as clear as brush could draw.


[Illustration: CATTLEYA TRIANÆ, VAR. MEASURESIÆ.]


_Robert Measures._--Lively mauve. The broad petals have three purple lines
at the base and a mottling of purple on either side. Lip not large but of
the grandest crimson, darker towards the throat.

_Measuresiana._--Petals clear mauve, sepals a paler hue, lip very compact.
Its carmine rises far up the throat, surrounding the yellow and white
'eyes' with the happiest effect.

_Woodlandsensis._--Sepals and petals lilac flushed. The great lip
beautifully striped with rosy magenta.

_Tyrianthina_ takes its name from the Tyrian purple or wine-coloured tips
of the petals--a singular development. The labellum shows the same tint,
even darker.

Here also I note Catt. Harrisoniae _R. H. Measures_. It cannot be said
that this differs from the normal type in any respect; but one may venture
to assert that it is the finest example thereof--at least, a finer could
not be. Upon the mauve sepals and petals, much larger than usual and more
lively in colour, the great labellum, primrose and gamboge, with mauve
tip, stands out superbly. There is no more striking Cattleya than
Harrisoniae in this form.




A STORY OF CATTELEYA BOWRINGIANA


No tale hangs upon the discovery of Cattleya Bowringiana, so far as I have
heard. A planter named Turkheim sent it from British Honduras to Mr.
Bowring of Forest Farm, Windsor, in 1884. The species has a wide range.
Mr. Oversluys came upon it in Guatemala very shortly afterwards, and
curious incidents followed.

This admirable collector was hunting for Oncidium splendidum, a stately
flower not very uncommon once, but long extinct in Europe. No man knew its
home, but Mr. Sander, after close inquiry and profound deliberation,
resolved that it must be a native of Costa Rica. Thither he despatched Mr.
Oversluys, who roamed the wilderness up and down five years, seeking a
prize within his grasp all the time, so conspicuous that it escaped
notice--as sharp boys select the biggest names upon a map instead of the
smallest, to puzzle a comrade. But that is another story.

Irritated and despairing as time went by, but not permitted to abandon the
search, the collector found diversion now and again in a gallop through
the neighbouring States. And once he pushed as far as Guatemala. All these
forays were profitable, of course; such a shrewd and experienced hunter
finds game in every forest. But Mr. Oversluys was not equipped for the
wholesale business, as one may put it, on these expeditions. They were
reconnaissances. In Guatemala, at the moment which interests us, he had
only two servants and three mules.

I do not know exactly where he came across Cattleya Bowringiana; it might
be anywhere almost, apparently, in the Central American Republics. The
species was rare and very precious at the time--to be secured, though in
the smallest quantity. When Oversluys came upon it, he threw away the
miscellaneous rarities he had collected, hired two more mules--all he
could obtain--loaded as many as they could carry of the very finest
plants, specimens such as we dare not dream of now, and started for the
nearest port, meaning to return for more so soon as he was 'shut of your
confounded Oncidium splendidum.' In such disrespectful terms he wrote to
St. Albans.

At the house where Oversluys slept one night was a boisterous young
Guatemalan, one of the tippling, guitar-strumming, all-round-love-making
sort so common in Spanish America. But this youth was an Indian or
almost--betrayed by his lank hair and narrow shining eyes. Such a
character would seem impossible for one of that blood beyond the confines
of Guatemala. But the supremacy of the Indians under Rafael Carrera's
despotism has worked a change there. It lasted long enough to train a
portentous generation. When a pig-driver of their race conquered and ruled
the descendants of the Conquerors as absolutely as a Turkish bashaw of
old, Indians might well abandon the timid subservience of their
forefathers.

This young fellow insisted upon playing cards with Oversluys, who
declined. Then he began to quarrel. But a good-looking daughter of the
landlord intervened, and he promptly struck the light guitar. After supper
he felt the warmest friendship for Oversluys, and dropped off to sleep
while babbling a serenade to the landlord's daughter.

The friendship had not evaporated next morning. Don Hilario--he allowed
himself the title and a most aristocratic surname--was returning to his
native village, through which Oversluys must pass; there to remain, as he
admitted cheerfully, until his friends at the capital had suppressed
certain proceedings at law. These friends, it appeared, were dames of high
position, and the proceedings related to a serious deficiency in his
accounts as clerk in the Financial Department. But it was all great fun.
Don Hilario could not think of his appearance in the dock without peals of
laughter. No apprehension marred his enjoyment. Those great personages
named, of the female sex, would take very good care he was not
prosecuted--or they had best look out. In short, we recognise the type of
a cynical half-caste Don Juan.

As they journeyed on together, Don Hilario noticed the orchids, which were
simply slung across the mules. He knew, of course, that such weeds are
valued in Europe; every child in those realms is familiar with collectors
nowadays. 'Ah!' said he, 'those are poor things compared with the great
bushes on the roof of our church.'

Oversluys was roused at once. Since Roezl made the discovery, fifteen
years before, every one had come to know that rarities may be expected on
an Indian church. The pious aborigines collect any orchid of exceptional
beauty which they notice in the woods and carefully replant it on the
sacred building. It was the custom of their heathen forefathers.

'Are there any white ones among them?' Oversluys asked. An albino form of
Cattleya Bowringiana had never been heard of, but he thought it might
exist. And if so the roof of an Indian church would be the place to look
for such a treasure.

'As many white as red! I say, what will you give for a dozen?'

This was a difficult question under any circumstances, since the plants
could hardly be flowering then; and there is no difference in growth
betwixt the white varieties and the red. Besides, Oversluys had not the
very slightest confidence in this youth.

'How will you get them?' he asked.

'Never mind that. Pay me half the money down and I'll bring the plants
to-morrow. You know, our Indians are suspicious of collectors. You mustn't
be seen in the village.'

That was reasonable enough in one point of view, but preposterous in the
other. 'Oh,' said Oversluys, 'I must see the orchids at any risk--that's
flat! and I must hear how you mean to work.'

'Why?'

'Because if you take them without the Padre's consent you know as well as
I that the Indians will be after me at daylight, and--h'm! There would be
work for the doctor! What sort of man is your Padre?'

'A sort of pig, of course,' laughed Don Hilario. 'A fat old boar, ready
for the knife. And my knife is ready, too! Patience, friend, patience!'
His eyes still laughed, but he made the significant gesture so common in
those lands--a sudden stealthy grip of the machete at his waist.

This was not an unimportant revelation. 'You are on bad terms with the
Cura?' Oversluys asked.

'Not now. He thinks I have forgotten. It's years ago. I was a boy. But the
Castilian never forgets! I will tell you.'

The story was not edifying. It related to a young woman in whom the Cura
felt interest. He surprised her in company with Don Hilario and beat the
lad.

'Well,' said Oversluys, 'I'm sorry you and the Padre are not friends,
because I will have nothing to do with removing orchids from the church
unless he bears part in it.'

'But the pig will want all the money.'

'You need not tell him how much I am to give you.'

Don Hilario argued, however, until, finding Oversluys immovable, he grew
sulky. The fact is that to strip their church against the Indians' wish
would be not a little perilous even though the Cura were implicated; to
ignore him would be madness. Collectors have risked it, they say, before
and since, but never assuredly unless quite certain that the prize was
worth a deadly hazard. In this instance there was no security at all.

As they approached the village Don Hilario brightened up. 'Well,' he said,
'what will you give me?'

Oversluys had no money, but he offered a sum--the amount of which I have
not heard--payable in Guatemala city; to be doubled if the orchids should
prove white. Don Hilario declined this proposal with oaths; he dared not
go to Guatemala city, and he could not trust a friend. The negotiations
came to an end. Grumbling and swearing he rode for a while by himself;
then fell into silence, and presently rejoined Oversluys quite cheerful.
The houses were close by.

'It's a bargain, friend,' he said. 'Your hand! It's a bargain!'

'Good! Now I won't take my mules with the orchids into the village. Can
you lead us round to the other side? There is a hut there, I daresay,
where I can leave my men and return with you.'

Don Hilario declared that such precautions were unnecessary, but when
Oversluys insisted he led the way through by-paths. They did not meet a
soul. Upon the edge of a broad savannah beyond was a corral, or enclosure,
and a shed, used by the _vaqueros_ for slaughtering, branding, and so
forth in the season, empty now. Hundreds of cattle browsed slowly towards
the corral, for evening approached and the woods were full of jaguars
doubtless. Though unwatched at this time of year, they took refuge nightly
in the enclosure. It was just such a spot as Oversluys sought. His men had
food, and he told them to remain with the animals. Then he returned with
Don Hilario.

It is usual to ask the Cura for lodgings in a strange place; he himself
puts up a traveller who can pay. This was a rotund and masterful priest.
They found him alighting from his mule, with soutane rolled up to the
waist, showing a prodigious breadth of pea-green trousers. He wore a
triple string of blue beads round his neck, and flourished a whip of
cowhide.

Oversluys looked like a traveller who could pay, and he received a
greeting as warm as foreigner can expect; a foreigner in those lands is
presumed to be no 'Christian.' They entered the parsonage. Don Hilario was
to broach the business, but first Oversluys would satisfy himself that the
orchids were worth negotiation. He slipped away.

A glance settled that. The church was a low building of mud, as usual. On
either side the doorway, looking down the street, stood an ancient idol,
buried to the waist, but still five feet high. The features were battered,
but the round eyes, with pupils cut deep in a half circle, glared in
hideous threat, and the mouth gaped for blood; no need of an interpreter
there--one saw and felt the purpose. But Oversluys was not interested in
these familiar objects. He looked up. His comrade had not exaggerated the
size of the orchids, at least. They were noble specimens. But as for their
colour he could see no trace to guide him.

Don Hilario had gone to greet his parents; it was comparatively late when
he returned, but then he got to business forthwith. The Cura was startled.
He showed no indignation, but after pondering declined. Before going
further, Oversluys asked whether the orchids were white? Impatiently the
Cura replied that he never looked at them--very likely they were. People
decked the church with white flowers, and perhaps they got them from the
roof. He had other things to think about.

Oversluys guessed that the man was eager to sell but afraid, and fretful
accordingly. He raised his price, whilst Don Hilario taunted the Cura with
fearing his parishioners. That decided him. Loudly he declared that the
church was his own, and consented.

The deed must be done that night. But who would climb the church roof in
the dark? Don Hilario was prepared for that difficulty. He knew half a
dozen fellows of his own age and stamp who would enjoy the mischief. And
he went to collect them.

It was long past midnight when the band appeared--a set of lively young
ruffians. So vivacious were they, in fact, though not noisy, and so
disrespectful to their pastor as they drank a glass for luck, standing
round the board, that Oversluys thought it well to prepare for a 'row.' He
slipped out, saddled his mule and tied it by the door.

Then the young Indians filed off in high spirits, chuckling low and
nudging one another. The Cura followed to the door, commended them to
heaven and stopped. Don Hilario would not have that--he must take his
share of the enterprise. The others returned and remonstrated warmly. In
short, there was such hubbub, though all in low tones, that Oversluys grew
more and more alarmed. The Cura gave way savagely, however, and they
started again; but Oversluys kept well behind, leading his mule. It was a
dark night, though not dark as in a northern climate. He could follow the
little group with his eyes, a blurred mass stealing over the plaza. The
church itself was faintly visible a hundred yards away. All remained still
and silent. He advanced.

A low wall encircled the church. The Indians did not think it prudent to
use the entrance--of which those idols were the gate-posts, as it may be
said. Oversluys, reassured, had drawn close enough now to see them creep
up to the wall. Suddenly there was a roar! A multitude of figures leapt up
the other side of the wall, yelling!

That was 'Boot and Saddle' for Oversluys. Off he set full gallop, for the
risk of a broken neck is not worth counting when vengeful Indians are on
one's trail. But though all the village must have heard him thudding past,
no one pursued. Very extraordinary, but the whole incident was mysterious.
After fifteen years' experience the collector--a shrewd man at the
beginning--knew Indians well, but he could never explain this adventure.
Sometimes he thought it might have been a trick from beginning to end,
devised by Don Hilario to get the Cura into a scrape. I have no suggestion
to offer, but the little story seems worth note as an illustration of
manners.

Oversluys had good reason to remember it. Uncomfortably enough he waited
for dawn in the dank wood, holding his mule by the bridle, not daring to
advance. As soon as the path could be faintly traced he started, and
happily found the corral where his mules and servants had been left. The
cattle were streaming out already, bulls in advance. They blocked the
gateway, and with the utmost promptitude Oversluys withdrew into the bush.
Making his way to the fence he shouted for his mozos--in vain; climbed
over with no small difficulty and entered the shed. His mules were safe
enough but both mozos had vanished, having found or made friends in the
neighbourhood. And all his precious Cattleyas, left defenceless, had been
munched or trampled flat by the cattle! He never ceased to mourn that
loss.




A STORY OF CATTLEYA MOSSIAE


Since orchids never die, unless by accident, and never cease to grow,
there is no limit to the bulk they may attain. Mishap alone cuts their
lives short--commonly the fall or the burning of the tree to which they
cling. Mr. Burbidge secured one, a Grammatophyllum, 'as big as a
Pickford's van,' which a corvée of Dyaks could not lift. Some old
collections even in Europe show prodigious monsters; in especial, I am
told, that of the Duke of Northumberland at Alnwick. Mr. Astor has two
Peristeria elata at Cliveden of which the bulbs are as large as an ostrich
egg, and the flower stems rise to a height of nine feet! The most striking
instance of the sort I myself have observed, if not quite the biggest, was
a Cattleya Mossiae sent home by Mr. Arnold. It enclosed two great branches
of a tree, rising from the fork below which it was sawn off--a bristling
mass four feet thick and five feet high; two feet more must be added if we
reckon the leaves. As for the number of flower-scapes it bore last season,
to count them would have been the work of hours; roughly I estimated a
thousand, bearing not less than three blooms, each six inches across.
Fancy cannot rise to the conception of that gorgeous display. I doubt not
that the forest would be scented for a hundred yards round.

Such giant Cattleyas are very rare in the 'wild state.' An orchid, though
immortal, is subject to so many accidents that only species of very quick
growth attain great age; these are less exposed to the perils of youth,
naturally. From time to time, however, an Indian removes some plant which
strikes him for its beauty or its size, and starts it afresh on a tree not
too tall--and therefore young--in view of his hut. Thus it takes a new
lease of life and grows indefinitely. I have not heard that 'white' peons
are so aesthetic.

This Cattleya Mossiae had been rescued by an Indian. Mr. Arnold first saw
it on his memorable search for Masdevallia Tovarensis. I must tell that
episode to begin with.

More than thirty years ago a German resident at Tovar sent a white
Masdevallia to a friend in England. There were very few species of the
genus, few plants indeed, under cultivation at that time, and all scarlet.
The novelty made a vast sensation. For a good many years the owner kept
dividing his single specimen, and putting fragments on the market, where
they fetched a very long price. Under such circumstances a man is not
inclined to tell where his treasure comes from. At an earlier date this
gentleman had published the secret so far as the name 'Tovar' went. But
there are several places so called in Spanish America, and importers
hesitated. At length Mr. Sander made up his mind. He sent Mr. Arnold to
Tovar in New Grenada.

Masdevallias are reckoned among the most difficult of orchids to import.
From their home in cool uplands they must be transported through some of
the hottest regions on the globe, and they have no pseudo-bulbs to sustain
them; a leaf and a root, one may say, compose each tiny plant.

Mr. Arnold, therefore, was provided with some sacks of Sphagnum moss in
which to stow his finds. These sacks he registered among his personal
baggage. At Waterloo, however, the station-master demurred. Moss, said he,
must travel by goods train. Arnold had not allowed himself time to spare.
The Royal mail steamer would leave within an hour of his arrival at
Southampton; to go without his moss was useless; and a pig-headed official
refused to pass it! Mr. Arnold does not profess to be meek. He
remonstrated with so much energy that the station-master fled the scene.
There was just time enough to load up the article in dispute and jump into
a carriage, helped by a friendly stranger.

The stranger had showed his friendliness before that. Standing at the open
door, he supported Arnold's cause with singular warmth and vociferation.
The latter was grateful, of course, and when he learned that his ally was
a fellow-passenger to Caracas he expressed the hope that they might share
a cabin. There was no difficulty about that. In short, they chummed.

This young man announced himself as Mr. Thompson, a traveller in the
hardware line, but he showed an intelligent curiosity about things in
general--about orchids, for instance, when he learned that such was
Arnold's business. Would it be possible for an ignoramus to make a few
pounds that way?--how should he set about it?--which is the class of
article most in demand just now, and where is it found? Before the voyage
ended, that traveller in the hardware line knew as much about Masdevallia
Tovarensis as Arnold could tell him. He bade goodbye aboard ship, for
pressing business obliged him to start up country forthwith.

Late in the afternoon Arnold, who was to stay some days at Caracas, met
his agent on the Plaza. 'By the bye,' said that gentleman, 'are you aware
that Mr. Blank started this morning in the direction of Tovar?'

Now Mr. Blank was a man of substance who began orchid-growing as an
amateur, but of late had turned professional.

'Bless me!' cried Arnold, 'is he here?'

The agent stared. 'Why, as I understood, he travelled in the same ship
with you.'

Arnold seized him by the wrist, while in his mind's eye he reviewed all
the passengers; they were not many. The only one who could possibly be Mr.
Blank was--Mr. Thompson!

'Get me a horse, sir!' he sputtered. 'Which way has the villain gone? And
a guide--with another horse! I'll pay anything! I'll go with you to hire
them! Come along!' Ten minutes afterwards he was on the track, full
gallop, stopping only at the hotel to get his pistol.

At a roadside posada, fifteen miles beyond, Mr. Blank was supping in
peace. The door opened. Arnold stalked in. He was in that mood of
intensest passion when a man's actions are stiff though he trembles--all
his muscles rigid with the effort of self-restraint.

Quietly he barred the door and quietly he sat down opposite to Mr. Blank,
putting his revolver on the board.

'Get your pistol, sir,' said he, scarcely above a whisper, 'we're going to
settle this business.' But Mr. Blank, after a frenzied stare, had
withdrawn beneath the table. Arnold hauled him out by the legs, demanding
instant combat.

But this was not the man to fight. He preferred to sign a confession and a
promise, guaranteed by most impressive oaths, not to revisit those parts
for six months. Then Arnold started him back, supperless, in the dark.

It may be added that the gentleman whom I have named Mr. Blank lost his
life in 1892, when seeking the habitat of Dendrobium Schröderianum, under
circumstances not wholly dissimilar. As in this case he sought to reap
where he had not sown. But peace be with him!

Without more adventures Arnold found Masdevallia Tovarensis. Of the first
consignment he despatched, forty thousand arrived in good health. This
quest completed in shorter time than had been allowed, he looked for
another 'job.' One is only embarrassed by the choice in that region. Upon
the whole it seemed most judicious to collect Cattleya Mossiae. And Arnold
set off for the hunting-grounds.

On this journey he saw the monster I have described. It grew beside the
dwelling of an Indian--not properly to be termed a 'hut,' nor a 'house.'
The man was a coffee-planter in a very small way. Nothing that Arnold
could offer tempted him in the least. His grandfather 'planted' the
Cattleya, and from that day it had been a privilege of the family to
decorate one portion of the neighbouring church with its flowers when a
certain great feast came round. Arnold tried to interest the daughter--a
very pretty girl: the Indian type there is distinctly handsome. Then he
tried her lover, who seemed willing to exert his influence for the
consideration of a real English gun. Arnold could not spare his own; he
had no other, and the young Indian would not accept promises. So the
matter fell through.

Three years afterwards Arnold was commissioned to seek Cattleya Mossiae
again. Not forgetting the giant, he thought it worth while to take a 'real
English gun' with him, though doubtless the maiden was a wife long since,
and her husband might ask for a more useful present. In due course he
reached the spot--a small Indian village in the mountains, some fifteen
miles from Caracas. The Cattleya was still there, perched aloft, as big as
a hogshead. Arnold's first glance was given to it; then he looked at the
owner's hospitable dwelling. It also was still there, but changed. Tidy it
had never been, but now it was ruinous. None of the village huts could be
seen, standing as they did each in its 'compound'--a bower of palm and
plantains, fruit-trees, above all, flowers. Afterwards he perceived that
they had all been lately rebuilt.

The old Indian survived, but it was not from him that Arnold learned the
story. The Cura told it. There had been a pronunciamiento somewhere in the
country, and the Government sent small bodies of troops--pressgangs, in
fact--to enlist 'volunteers.' One of these came to the village. The
officer in command, a good-looking young man, took up his abode in the
Indian's house and presently made it his headquarters, whence to direct
the man-hunts. Upon that pretext he stayed several weeks, to the delight
of the villagers, who were spared.

But one evening there was an outbreak. The lover rushed along the street,
dripping with blood--the officer, his sword drawn, pursuing. He ran into
his hut and snatched a gun from the wall. But it was too late; the other
cut him down. The day's field work was over--all the Indians had returned.
They seized their machetes, yelling vengeance, and attacked the officer.
But his soldiers also were close by. They ran up, firing as they ran. Some
villagers were killed, more wounded; the place was sacked. Next morning
early the detachment moved off. When the fugitives returning counted their
loss, the pretty daughter of old José was missing. The dead lay where they
fell, and she was not among them.

The Cura, an amiable veteran, did not doubt that she had been carried off
by force; was not this girl the most devout and dutiful in the parish? He
saddled his mule forthwith and rode into Caracas. The officer had
delivered his report, which may be easily imagined. Governments in Spanish
America at this day resent any kind of interference from the clergy. Had a
layman complained, doubtless there would have been an inquiry; in
Venezuela, as elsewhere, maidens are not to be carried off by young
aristocrats and no word said. But the authorities simply called on the
accused for an explanation, accepted his statement that the girl followed
him of her free-will, and recommended him to marry her. This he did, as
Arnold ascertained. As for the rest--_quien sabe_?

These sad events account for the old Indian's behaviour. Arnold found him
at home, and with him a young man not to be recognised at first, who
proved to be the lover. The muscles of his neck had been severed, causing
him to hold his head awry, and a slash had partially disabled his right
arm. Arnold was told abruptly that he could not lodge there, and he
withdrew. But on a sudden the lover whispered eagerly. They called him
back.

'Will you buy the Cattleya?' asked old José.

'How much?'

'Fifty dollars and a good gun.'

'It's a bargain.'

He paid there and then, nor quitted the spot, though very hungry, until
his followers had sawn through the branch and lowered its burden to the
ground. Carrying his spoil in triumph, suspended on a pole, Arnold sought
the Cura's house. There he heard the tale I have unfolded.

Not until evening did the Padre chance to see the giant Cattleya. He was
vexed, naturally, since his church lost its accustomed due. But when
Arnold told what he had paid for it, the good man was deeply moved. 'Holy
Virgin and all saints!' he cried, 'there will be murder!' And he set off
running to the Indian's house. It was empty. José and the lover had been
seen on the road to Caracas hours before--with the gun.

I am sorry that I cannot finish the story; too often we miss the dénoûment
in romances of actual life. But the Cura felt no doubt. It may be
to-night, or next year, or ten years hence, he said, but the captain is
doomed. Our Indians never forget nor forgive, nor fail when at length
they strike.

The murder was not announced whilst Arnold remained in the country. But
all whom he questioned gave the same forecast. Unless the Indians were
seized or died they would surely have vengeance.


[Illustration: CATTLEYA SCHRODERÆ VAR. MISS MARY MEASURES.]




CYPRIPEDIUM INSIGNE


Here is a house full of Cypripedium insigne; nothing else therein save a
row of big Cymbidiums in vases down the middle, Odontoglossum citrosmum
and Cattleya citrina hanging on wires overhead. Every one knows this
commonest of Cypripeds, though many may be unacquainted with the name.
Once I looked into a show of window-gardening in the precincts of
Westminster Abbey, and among the poor plants there, treasures of the
poorest, I found a Cypripedium insigne--very healthy and well-grown too.
But when I called the judges' attention, they politely refused to believe
me, though none of them could say what the mysterious vegetable was--not
the least curious detail of the incident. The flower cannot be called
beautiful, but undeniably it is quaint, and the honest unsophisticated
public loves it. Moreover the bloom appears in November, lasting till
Christmas, if kept quite cool. The species was introduced from Sylhet so
long ago as 1820, but it flourishes in many districts on the southern
slope of the Himalayas. New habitats are constantly discovered.

There are 505 plants in this house, and if individual flowers be not
striking commonly--that is, flowers of the normal type--the spectacle is
as pretty as curious when hundreds are open at once, apple-green, speckled
with brown and tipped with white. But to my taste, as a 'grower,' the
sight is pleasant at all seasons, for the green and glossy leaves
encircle each pot so closely that they form a bank of foliage without a
gap all round. But besides this house we have one much larger elsewhere,
containing no less than 2500 examples of the same species. If no two
flowers of an orchid on the same plant be absolutely similar, as experts
declare--and I have often proved the rule--one may fancy the sum of
variation among three thousand. Individually, however, it is so minute in
the bulk of Cypripedium insigne that a careless observer sees no
difference among a hundred blooms. I note some of the prominent
exceptions.

_Clarissimum._--Large, all white, except a greenish tinge at base of the
dorsal, and the broad yellow shield of the column.

_Laura Kimball_, on the other hand, is all ochreous yellow, save the
handsome white crown of the dorsal and a narrow white margin descending
from it.

_Statterianum_ is much like this, but spotted in the usual way.

_Bohnhoffianum_ has a dorsal of curious shape. The crest rises sharply
between square shoulders which fold over, displaying the reverse. It has
no spots, but at the base is a chestnut blotch, changing to vivid green,
which again vanishes abruptly, leaving a broad white margin. Vivid green
also are the petals, with brown lines; the slipper paler. This example is
unique.

_Macfarlanei_ is all yellowish green, with a white crest.

_Amesiae._--The dorsal has a broad white outline and a drooping crest. To
white succeeds a brilliant green, and to that, in the middle, bright
chestnut. Chestnut lines also, and dots, mount upward. The green petals
are similarly lined, and the slipper is greenish, tinged with chestnut.

_Longisepalum_ is flesh-colour, with a greenish tinge and pink spots on
the very long dorsal. The pink spots change to lines upon the petals.
Slipper ruddy green.

_Dimmockianum._--The broad and handsome dorsal is green, with white
margin. A red stain at the base is continued in lines of spots upwards.
The petals are scored with the same colour.

_Measuresiae._--Big, with a grand dorsal, pale grass-green below, broadly
whitening as it swells. Petals the same green, with a dark midrib and
fainter lines. Slipper yellow.

_Rona_ is an example of the common type in its utmost perfection--large,
symmetrical, its green tinge the liveliest possible, its white both snowy
and broad, and its spots so vigorously imprinted that they rise above the
surface like splashes of solid chocolate.

_Majesticum_ is another of the same class, but distinguished by the
enormous size of its dorsal.

_Dorothy._--Dorsal greenish yellow, with faint spots of chestnut and a
broad white margin. Petals and slipper the same greenish-yellow tone.

_R. H. Measures._--For size as for colour this variety is astonishing. Its
gigantic dorsal is white, prettily stained at base with pale green, in
which are enormous red spots, irregularly set. Petals tawny greenish, with
lines and dots of red. The slipper matches.

_Harefield Hall_ variety resembles this, but smaller. The great spots of
the dorsal are more crimson, the petals and slipper a darker hue.

_Frederico._--Within a broad white outline the dorsal is all yellow,
heavily spotted and splashed with chestnut. The reddish tawny petals are
lined and spotted with chestnut, and the tawny slipper shows a chestnut
network.

_Corrugatum._--The name refers to a peculiarity unique and inexplicable.
The slipper, so smooth in every other case, has a strong breastbone, so to
say, and five projecting ribs on either side, arching round diagonally
from the back--pale brown on a darker ground. The dorsal is all yellow,
spotted with brown, but the crest overhangs, showing its white underside.

_Drewett's variety._--Dorsal white, with a green base and huge blotches of
red-brown; greenish petals lined with the same; ruddy greenish slipper.

_Eximium._--A natural hybrid doubtless, though we cannot guess what its
other parent may be; it came among a lot of the ordinary form. Very small.
The funny little dorsal is yellow, spotted throughout with red. The small
petals have a crimson tinge, much darker in the upper length. Slipper dull
crimson; the yellow shield of the column is very conspicuous on that
ground.

_Hector._--The dorsal is pale grass-green, with a white crest and margin
and large chestnut spots; petals and slipper reddish ochre.

_Punctatum_ is a title very commonly bestowed when the usual spots run
together, making small blotches, arranged in lines; often the petals have
a white margin, more or less broad, which shows them off.

Here also I should mention the famous Cyp. ins. Sanderae, though, as a
matter of fact, it is lodged elsewhere. The story of this wonderful orchid
has often been told, but not every one has heard it. I may be allowed to
quote my own version, published in _About Orchids--a Chat_ (Chapman and
Hall, 1893). 'Among a great number of Cypripedium insigne received at St.
Albans, and "established" there, 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-growers' stock-in-trade, for the smallest
peculiarity among such "sportive" objects should not be neglected.
Carefully he put the yellow-stalk aside. In due course the flower opened
and proved to be all golden. Mr. Sander cut his plant in two, sold half
for seventy-five guineas at Protheroe's auction rooms, and the other half
to Mr. R. H. Measures. One of the purchasers divided his plant and sold
two bits at a hundred guineas each. Another piece was bought back by Mr.
Sander, who wanted it for hybridising, at two hundred and fifty guineas.'
Not less than forty exist perhaps at the present time, for as soon as a
morsel proves big enough to be divided, divided it is. Here we have two
fine plants and a healthy young fragment.


[Illustration: CYPRIPEDIUM INSIGNE, VAR. SANDERÆ.]


To describe the flower is an ungrateful task. Tints so exquisitely soft
are not to be defined in words; it is pleasanter to sum them up in the
phrase 'all golden,' as I did formerly, when there was no need for
precision. But here I must be specific, and in truth Cypripedium insigne
Sanderae is not to be so described. The dorsal, beautifully waved, has a
broad white margin and a cloud of the tenderest grass-green in the midst,
covered with a soft green network. There are a few tiniest specks of brown
on either side the midrib. The petals might be termed palest primrose, but
when compared with the pure yellow slipper a pretty tinge of green
declares itself. A marvel of daintiness and purity.

In this house hang Catt. citrina, Odont. citrosmum, and Laelia
Jongheana--five rows. Of the first, so charming but so common, it is
enough to say that the owner of this collection has contrived to secure
the very biggest examples, in their native growth, that a sane imagination
could conceive--so big that I should not have credited a report of their
dimensions. The ordinary form of citrosmum also demands no comment, and I
deal with the interesting Laelia Jongheana elsewhere. But we have a number
of citrosmum roseum, which has white sepals and petals and a pink lip; of
citrosmum album, all purest white, save the yellow crest; and of the
cream-coloured variety, which to my mind is loveliest of all. Sir Trevor
Lawrence collects these at every opportunity, and I remember the charming
display he made once at the Temple Show, when their long pendulous
garlands formed the backing to his stand.




STORY OF CATTLEYA SKINNERI ALBA


The annals of botany are full of incident and adventure, especially that
branch which deals with orchids. All manner of odd references and
associations one finds there. I myself, having studied the subject, was
not much surprised to meet with a tale of orchids and cock-fighting
lately; but others may like to hear how such an odd connection arose.

The name of the orchid was Cattleya Skinneri alba, one of the rarest and
most beautiful we have; the name of the hero, Benedict Roezl, greatest of
all collectors. This experience gives some notion of his ready wit, cool
daring, and resource. But I could tell some even more characteristic.

It is necessary to say that Cattleya Skinneri _tout court_--a charming
rosy flower--was discovered by Mr. Skinner long before this date--in 1836;
but no white Cattleya had yet been heard of.

It was in 1870. Roezl had made a very successful foray in the
neighbourhood of Tetonicapan, Guatemala, and with a long train of mules he
was descending towards the coast. His head mozo could be trusted; the
perils of the road--streams, mud, precipices, and brigands--had been left
behind; Roezl, rejoicing in the consciousness of good work well done,
pushed on by himself towards the village where they were to spend the
night.

He had not been there before, but the road--rather, the trail--was plain
enough. Unfortunately it led him, after a while, into a jicara-grove.
This tree, which supplies the calabash used throughout Central America,
has some very odd peculiarities. Its leaves grow by fours, making a cross,
and on that account, doubtless, the Indians esteem it sacred; their pagan
forefathers reverenced the cross. The trunks spring at equal distances, as
if planted by rule, but such is their natural habit; I have the strongest
impression that Mr. Belt found a cause for this eccentricity, but the
passage I cannot discover. Thirdly, jicara-trees always stand in a
low-lying savannah, across which they are marshalled in lines and 'spaced'
like soldiers on parade in open order--at least, I never saw them in
another situation. Such spots are damp, and the herbage grows strong; thus
the half-wild cattle are drawn thither, and before the wet season comes to
an end they have trampled the whole surface, obliterating all signs of a
path, if one there be, and confounding the confusion by making tracks
innumerable through the jungle round.

Upon such a waste Roezl entered, and he paused forthwith to deliberate.
The compass would not help him much, for if it told the direction of the
village, the Indian trail which led thither might open to right or left
anywhere on the far side of the grove. Travellers in those wilds must
follow the beaten course.

At length he took bearings, so as to go straight at least, and rode on.
Presently an Indian lad came out from the forest behind him, but stopped
at sight of the tall stranger. Roezl shouted--he spoke every patois of
Spanish America with equal fluency. The boy advanced at length. He could
only talk his native Quiché, but Roezl made out that he was going to the
village--sent him ahead, and followed rejoicing. So he crossed the
jicara-ground.

But in the forest beyond, it was not easy to keep up with an Indian boy
trotting his fastest. In a few minutes the guide had vanished and Roezl
hurried along after him. Suddenly a ragged rascal sprang out from the
bushes ahead with levelled gun. Roezl glanced back. Two others barred his
retreat.

Not unfamiliar with such incidents, he laughed and offered his
purse--never well filled. Good humour and wit had carried him through
several adventures of the kind without grave annoyance; once in Mexico,
when he had not one silver coin to ransom himself, a party of bandits kept
him twenty-four hours simply to enjoy his drolleries, and dismissed him
with ten dollars--which was a godsend, said Roezl. But these fellows only
spoke Quiché, and they were sullen dogs.

The purse did not satisfy them by any means. They made their prisoner
dismount and enter the forest, marching behind him. The camp was close by,
and here Roezl found his guide, hitched to a tree by the neck. The brigand
officer and some of the men talked Spanish, and they appreciated Roezl's
'chaff,' treating him with boisterous familiarity; but they would not hear
of letting him go until the Captain's arrival. He sat upon the ground,
exchanging jokes with the ruffians, drinking their aguardiente and smoking
their best cigars, like a jovial comrade.

Meantime the Indian members of the band were out of the fun, and they
attended to business. What they wanted of the lad Roezl did not
understand, but when he persisted in refusing they beat him savagely. At
length it went so far that Roezl could not bear to hear the poor fellow's
cries. Putting the matter humorously, he begged the lieutenant to
interfere, and that worthy commanded the Indians to desist.

After an hour or so the Captain appeared, and Roezl's case was put before
him; at the same moment, however, the scouts brought in a priest. He had
resisted probably, for they had bound and beaten him. Such treatment was
novel, doubtless. It had taken all spirit out of the holy man, who walked
as humbly as could be till he set eyes on the Captain. Then his courage
returned. They were old acquaintances, evidently, and the Padre claimed
satisfaction. He did not get it; but the Captain set him free, with
apologies. The boy proved to be his servant, and he also was released.
Roezl asserted a claim to equal consideration as defender of that youth,
and at length it was ungraciously allowed. Remembering, however, that his
precious orchids would soon arrive and fall into the brigands' hands, to
be smashed in spite probably, he ransomed them by a bill drawn on himself
at the capital. Then he rode on to overtake the priest, who was Cura of
the village which he sought.

Not prepossessing at all was that ecclesiastic. None of the bandits had a
more stupid expression or one less amiable. But Roezl found presently that
he had some reason for ill-humour. Six cocks had he taken to a grand match
at Tetonicapan the day before--three his own, three belonging to
parishioners; and every one was killed! The boy had been sent in advance
to break the news.

Cock-fighting is the single amusement of that population, besides drink,
of course, and the single interest of its ministers--most of them, at
least. This padre could talk of nothing else. It was not a subject that
amused Roezl, but he knew something of that as of all else that pertains
to life in those countries. The dullest of mortals could not help
gathering information about cocks and their ways in a lifetime of travel
up and down Spanish America; the most observant, such as this, must needs
collect a vast deal of experience. But Roezl was not interested in his
companion.

Not, that is, until he reached the village. The Cura had invited him to
his house--so to call an adobe building of two rooms, without upper floor.
It stood beside the church, hardly less primitive. Roezl glanced at the
roof of this structure in passing. It has been mentioned that the Indians
have a pleasant custom of removing any orchid they find, notable for size
or beauty, to set on the church roof or on trees around it. In the course
of his long wanderings Roezl had bought or begged several fine plants from
a padre, but only when the man was specially reckless or specially
influential with his parishioners. The practice dates from heathen times,
and the Indians object to any desecration of their offerings.

It was with curiosity rather than hope, therefore, that Roezl scrutinised
the airy garden. There were handsome specimens of Cattleya--Skinneri most
frequent, of course--Lycaste, Oncidium, and Masdevallia. They had done
blooming mostly, but a belated flower showed here and there. In one big
clump he saw something white--looked more closely--paused. The plant was
Cattleya Skinneri certainly. How should a white flower be there?

All other collectors, perhaps, at that time, would have passed on, taking
it for granted that some weed had rooted itself amid the clump. But for
many years Roezl had been preaching that all Cattleyas of red or violent
tint, so to class them roughly, must make albino 'sports.' I believe he
had not one instance to cite in proof of his theory, which is a
commonplace now. A wondrous instinct guided him--the same which predicted
that an Odontoglossum of extraordinary character would be found in a
province he had never entered, where, years afterwards, the striking
Odont. Harryanum was discovered. Men talked of Roezl's odd fancy with
respect, but very few heeded it.

He tried various points of view, but nowhere could the flower be seen
distinctly. After grumbling and fuming a while the Cura left him, and
presently he followed. That reverend person was an object of interest now.
At the first opportunity Roezl mentioned that he was seeking a white Flor
de San Sebastian, as they name Cattleya Skinneri, for which he would pay
a good sum, and asked if there were any in the neighbourhood.

The Cura replied at once, 'You won't get one here. Many years ago my
people found one in the forest, but they never saw another before or
since.'

'What did they do with it?' Roezl asked breathlessly.

'Fixed it on the church, of course.'

The man was stupid, but in those parts an idiot can see any opening for
trade. To suppose that a cock-fighting Guatemalan priest could have
scruples about stripping his church would be grotesque. If he did not
snatch at the chance to make money, when told that the stranger would pay
for his whim, it must be because the removal of that plant would be so
hazardous that he did not even think of it. Roezl dropped the subject.

They ate--more especially, they drank. The leading men of the village came
in to hear the sad story of the cock-fight. Not one word on any other
topic was spoken until they withdrew to bed. But Roezl was not bored after
a while. So soon as he grasped the situation, his quick wits began
speculating and contriving means to tempt the Padre. And as he listened to
the artless if not innocent discourse of these rustics, gradually a notion
formed itself.

The issue of the great match had been a disaster all round. In the first
place, there was an antique feud with the victors. Secondly, their cocks
had been defeated so often that for two years past they had lain low,
saving their money to buy champion birds at the capital. And this was the
result! In the assurance of triumph they had staked all they could raise
upon the issue. That money was lost, and the cocks besides. Utter rout and
bankruptcy! No wonder the priest sent his boy ahead to break the awful
news.

Despairingly they speculated on the causes of their bad luck from year to
year, and it was in listening to this discussion that Roezl perceived a
gleam of hope. The mules arrived with his orchids, and started again in
the morning; but he stayed behind. The Cura was more than willing to
explain the local system of feeding, keeping, training, and in general of
managing cocks. Roezl went into it thoroughly without comment; but when
the leading parishioners assembled at night, as usual, he lifted up his
voice.

'My friends,' said he, 'you are always beaten because you do not
understand the tricks of these wily townsmen. What you should import from
Guatemala is not champion cocks, but a good cock-master, up to date. I'm
afraid he would sell you indeed, but there is no other way.'

They looked at one another astounded, but the Cura broke out, 'Rubbish!
What do we do wrong?'

'Only a fool gives away valuable secrets. If you want my information you
must pay for it. But I will tell you one thing. You keep your cocks tied
up in a cupboard'--I am giving the sense of his observations--'by
themselves, where they get spiritless and bored. You have been to
Tetonicapan. Is that how they do there? In every house you see the cocks
tied in a corner of the living room, where people come and go, often
bringing their own birds with them. Hens enter too sometimes. So they are
always lively and eager. This you have seen! Is it not so?'

'It is,' they muttered with thoughtful brows.

'Well, I make you a present of that hint. If you want any more valuable,
you must pay.' And he withdrew.

Weighty was the consultation doubtless. Presently they went in search of
him, the whole body, and asked his terms.

'You shall not buy on speculation,' said Roezl. 'Is there a village in the
neighbourhood where they treat their cocks as you do, and could you make a
match for next Sunday? Yes? Well, then, you shall tie up your birds in a
public room, follow my directions in feeding, and so forth. If you
conquer, you shall pay me; if not, not.'

'What shall we pay?' asked the Cura.

'Your reverence and all these caballeros shall swear on the altar to give
me the white Flor de San Sebastian which grows on the church roof.'

The end is foreseen. Roezl carried off his White Cattleya and sold it to
Mr. George Hardy of Manchester for 280 guineas.




THE PHALAENOPSIS HOUSE


Phalaenopsis are noted for whimsicality. They flourish in holes and
corners where no experienced gardener would put them, and they flatly
refuse to live under all the conditions most approved by science. Most
persons who grow them have such adventures to tell, their own or reported.
Sir Trevor Lawrence mentioned at the Orchid Conference that he once built
a Phalaenopsis house at the cost of £600; after a few months' trial he
restored his plants to their old unsatisfactory quarters and turned this
beautiful building to another purpose. The authorities at Kew tell the
same story with rueful merriment. In both cases, the situation, the plan,
every detail, had been carefully and maturely weighed, with intimate
knowledge of the eccentricities to be dealt with and profound respect for
them. Upon the other hand, I could name a 'grower' of the highest standing
who used to keep his Phalaenopsis in a ramshackle old greenhouse belonging
to a rough market-gardener of the neighbourhood--perhaps does still. How
he came to learn that they would thrive there as if under a blessed spell
I have forgotten. But once I paid the market-gardener a visit and there,
with my own eyes, beheld them flourishing under conditions such that I do
not expect a plain statement of the facts to be believed. In the midst of
the rusty old ruin was a stand with walls of brick; above this wires had
been fixed along the roof. The big plants hung lowest. Upon the edges of
their baskets smaller plants were poised, and so they stood, one above
another, like a child's house of cards--I am afraid to say how high. A
labouring man stood first at one end, then at the other, and cheerfully
plied the syringe. They were not taken down nor touched from month to
month.

Seeing and hearing all this, I cried--but the reader can imagine what I
cried.

'Well,' replied the market-gardener, 'I don't understand your orchids. But
I shouldn't ha' thought they was looking poorly.'

Poorly! Under these remarkable circumstances some scores of Phalaenopsis
were thriving as I never saw them elsewhere.

In this house they do very well, growing and flowering freely, giving no
trouble by mysterious ailments. We have most of the large
species--amabilis, Stuartiana, Schilleriana, Sanderiana, etc. No
description of these is required. Hybrids of Phalaenopsis are few as yet.
Here is Hebe, the product of rosea × Sanderiana, rosy white of sepal and
petal, bright pink of lip, yellow at the base.

On the left is a 'rockery' of tufa, planted with the hybrid Anthuriums
which Messrs. Sander have been producing so industriously of late years.
To my mind, an infant could make flowers as good as Anthuriums, if
equipped with a sufficient quantity of sealing-wax, red and pink and
white. Their form is clumsy, and grace they have none. But when they
recognise a fashion, the wise cease to protest. Anthuriums are the
fashion.

Since that is so, and many worthy persons will be interested, I name the
hybrids here.

Of the Andreeanum type, raised by crossing its various
forms:--_Lawrenciae_, pure white; _Goliath_, blood-red; _Salmoniae_,
flesh-colour; _Lady Godiva_, white faintly tinged with flesh-colour;
_Albanense_, deep red, spadix vermilion--this was one of the twelve 'new
plants' which won the First Prize at the International Exhibition 1892.

Of the Rothschildianum type:--_Saumon_, salmon-colour; _niveum_, very
large, whitish, with orange-red markings; _aurantiacum_, coloured like the
yolk of egg; _The Queen_, evenly marked in red, orange, and white.

Overhead hang small plants of Phalaenopsis and Dendrobium; on a shelf
above the Anthuriums, against the glass, two large specimens of the noble
Cyp. bellatulum album--which with a despairing effort I have tried to
sketch elsewhere--and no less than 380 plants of Cyp. Godefroyae, and its
variety, Cyp. leucochilum, both white, heavily spotted with brownish
purple.


THE VANDA HOUSE

lies beyond. Only the tall species are here, for such gems as V.
Kimballiana and Amesiana would be lost among these giants. But there is
little to say about our Vandas beyond a general commendation of their fine
stature and glossy leaves. It is not a genus which we study, and the
plants belong to ordinary species--the best of their class, however. For
the benefit of experts I may mention, among specimens of Vanda suavis, the
Dalkeith variety, Rollison's, Veitch's, Wingate, and Manchester; among
Vanda tricolor, planilabris--grandest of all--Dalkeith, aurea, Pattison's,
insignis, Rohaniana.

But _Miss Joaquim_ must be mentioned (V. teres × V. Hookeriana), sepals
and petals of a pretty rose colour, lip orange; a flower charming in
itself, but still more notable as the product of a young lady's
enthusiasm. Miss Agnes Joaquim is the daughter of a Consul at Singapore,
residing at Mount Narcis in the vicinity.




STORY OF VANDA SANDERIANA


There are those who pronounce Vanda Sanderiana the stateliest of all
orchids. To compare such numberless and varied forms of beauty is rather
childish. But it will be allowed that a first view of those enormous
flowers, ten or more upon a stalk--lilac above, pale cinnamon below,
covered with a network of crimson lines--is a memorable sensation for the
elect.

We may fancy the emotions of Mr. Roebelin on seeing it--the earliest of
articulate mortals so favoured. His amazement and delight were not alloyed
by anticipation, for no rumour of the marvel had gone forth. Roebelin was
travelling 'on spec' for once. In 1879 Mr. Sander learned that the
Philippine Government was about to establish a mail service from Manila to
Mindanao. Often had he surveyed that great island longingly, from his
arm-chair at St. Albans, assured that treasures must await the botanist
there. But although the Spaniards had long held settlements upon the
coast, and, of course, claimed sovereignty over the whole, there had
hitherto been no regular means of communication with a port whence
steamers sailed for Europe. A collector would be at the mercy of chance
for transmitting his spoil, after spending assuredly a thousand pounds. It
was out of the question. But the establishment of a line of steamers to
Manila transformed the situation. Forthwith Roebelin was despatched, to
find what he could.

He landed, of course, at the capital, Mindanao; and the Spaniards--civil,
military, even ecclesiastic--received him cordially. Any visitor was no
less than a phenomenon to them. It is a gay and pleasant little town, for
these people, having neither means nor opportunity, as a rule, to revisit
Europe, make their home in the East. And Roebelin found plenty of good
things round the glorious bay of Illana. But he learned with surprise that
the Spaniards did not even profess to have authority beyond a narrow strip
here and there upon the coast. The interior is occupied by savages,
numerous and warlike, Papuan by race, or crossed with the Philippine
Malay. Though they are not systematically hostile to white men, Roebelin
saw no chance of exploring the country.

Then he heard of a 'red Phalaenopsis,' on the north coast, a legendary
wonder, which must have its own chronicle by and by. Seduced especially by
this report, Roebelin sailed in a native craft to Surigao, a small but
very thriving settlement, which ranks next to the capital. People there
were well acquainted with Phalaenopsis, but they knew nothing of a red
one; some of them, however, talked in vague ecstasy of an orchid with
flowers as big as a dinner-plate to be found on the banks of Lake
Magindanao, a vast sheet of water in the middle of the island. They did
not agree about the shape, or colour, or anything else relating to it; but
such a plant must be well worth collecting anyhow. It was not dangerous to
ascend the river, under due precautions, nor to land at certain points of
the lake. Such points are inhabited by the Subano tribe, who live in
hourly peril from their neighbours the Bagabos, against whom they beg
Spanish protection. Accordingly white men are received with enthusiasm.

The expedition, therefore, would be comparatively safe, if a guide and
interpreter could be found. And here Roebelin was lucky. A small trader
who had debts to collect among the Subanos offered his sampan, with its
crew, on reasonable terms, and proposed to go himself. He was the son of a
Chinaman from Singapore, by a native wife, and spoke intelligible English.
The crew also had mostly some Chinese blood, and Roebelin gathered that
they were partners of Sam Choon, his dragoman, in a very small way. The
number of Celestials and half-breeds of that stock in Mindanao had already
struck him, in comparison with Manila. Presently he learned the reason.
The energetic and tenacious Chinaman is hated by all classes of
Spaniards--by the clergy because he will not be converted, by the
merchants because he intercepts their trade, by the military because he
will not endure unlimited oppression, and by the public at large because
he is hard-working, thrifty, and successful. He is dangerous, too, when
roused by ill-treatment beyond the common, and his secret societies
provide machinery for insurrection at a day's notice. But in Mindanao the
Chinaman is indispensable. White traders could not live without his
assistance. They do not love him the better, but they protect him so far
as they may from the priests and the military.

I have no adventures to tell on the journey upwards. It lasted a good many
days. Roebelin secured few plants, for this part is inhabited by Bagabos,
or some race of their kidney, and Sam Choon would not land in the forest.

At length they reached Lake Magindanao; the day was fine, and they pushed
across. But presently small round clouds began to mount over the blue
hills. Thicker and thicker they rose. A pleasant wind swelled the surface
of the lake, but those clouds far above moved continually faster. Roebelin
called attention to them. But the Chinaman is the least weatherwise of
mortals. Always intent on his own business or pleasure--the constitution
of mind which gives him such immense advantage above all other men in the
struggle for existence--he does not notice his surroundings much. Briefly,
a tremendous squall caught them in sight of port--one of those sudden
outbursts which make fresh-water sailing so perilous in the Tropics. The
wind swooped down like a hurricane from every quarter at once, as it
seemed. For a moment the lake lay still, hissing, beaten down by the blow;
then it rose in solid bulk like waves of the ocean. In a very few minutes
the squall passed on; but it had swamped the sampan. They were so near the
land, however, that the Subanos, hastening to the rescue, met them half
way in the surf, escorted them to shore, laughing and hallooing, and
returned to dive for the cargo. It was mostly recovered in time.

These people do not build houses in the water, like so many of their kin.
They prefer the safety of high trees; it is not by any means so effectual,
but such, they would say, was the custom of their ancestors. At this
village the houses were perched not less than fifty feet in air, standing
on a solid platform. But if the inhabitants are thus secured against
attack, on the other hand--each family living by itself up aloft--an enemy
on the ground would be free to conduct his operations at leisure. So the
unmarried men and a proportion of the warriors occupy a stout building
raised only so far above the soil as to keep out reptiles. Here also the
chief sits by day, and public business is done. The visitors were taken
thither.

When Roebelin had dried his clothes the afternoon was too far advanced for
exploration. The crew of the prau chattered and disputed at the top of
their shrill voices as case after case was brought in, dripping, and
examined. But Sam Choon found time in the midst of his anxieties to warn
Roebelin against quitting the cleared area. 'Bagabos come just now, they
say,' he shouted. But the noise and the fuss and the smell were past
bearing. Roebelin took his arms and strolled out till supper was ready.

I do not know what he discovered. On returning he found a serious palaver,
the savages arguing coolly, the Chinamen raving. Sam Choon rushed up,
begging him to act as umpire; and whilst eating his supper Roebelin
learned the question in dispute. Sam Choon, as we know, had debts to
collect in this village, for cloth and European goods, to be paid in
jungle produce--honey, wax, gums, and so forth. The Subanos did not deny
their liability--the natural man is absolutely truthful and honest. Nor
did they assert that they could not pay. Their contention was simply that
the merchandise had been charged at a figure beyond the market rate.
Another Chinaman had paid them a visit, and sold the same wares at a lower
price. They proposed to return Sam Choon's goods unused, and to pay for
anything they could not restore on this reduced scale. It was perfectly
just in the abstract, and the natural man does not conceive any other sort
of justice. Sam Choon could not dispute that his rival's cloth was equally
good; it bore the same trademark, and those keen eyes were as well able to
judge of quality as his own. But the trader everywhere has his own code of
morals. Those articles for which the Subanos were indebted had been
examined, and the price had been discussed, at leisure; an honest man
cannot break his word. Such diverse views were not to be reconciled.
Roebelin took a practical course. He asked whether it could possibly be
worth while to quarrel with these customers for the sake of a very few
dollars? At the lower rate there would be a profit of many hundreds per
cent. But the Chinaman, threatened with a loss in business, is not to be
moved, for a while at least, by demonstrations of prudence.

Meantime the dispute still raged at the Council fire, for the crew also
were interested. Suddenly there was a roar. Several of them rushed across
to Sam Choon and shouted great news. Roebelin understood afterwards. The
caitiff who had undersold them was in the village at that moment! Whilst
they jabbered in high excitement another roar burst out. One of the men,
handling the rival's cloth, found a private mark--the mark of his 'Hoey.'
And it was that to which they all belonged.

The Hoey may be described as a trade guild; but it is much more. Each of
these countless associations is attached to one of the great secret
societies, generally the T'ien T'i Hung, compared with which, for numbers
and power, Freemasonry is but a small concern. By an oath which expressly
names father, son, and brother, the initiated swear to kill any of their
fellows who shall wrong a member of the Hoey. This unspeakable villain who
sold cheap had wronged them all! He must die!

They pressed upon the chief in a body, demanding the traitor. All had arms
and brandished them. Probably the savages would not have surrendered a
guest on any terms; but this demonstration provoked them. In howling
tumult they dispersed, seized their ready weapons, and formed line. The
war-cry was not yet raised, but spears were levelled by furious hands. The
issue depended on any chance movement. Suddenly from a distance came the
blast of a cow-horn--a muffled bellow, but full of threat. The savages
paused, turned, and rushed out, shouting. Roebelin caught a word, familiar
by this time--'Bagabos.' He followed; but Sam Choon seized his arm. 'They
put _ranjows_,' he said breathlessly. 'You cut foot, you die!' And in the
moonlight Roebelin saw boys running hither and thither with an armful of
bamboo spikes sharp as knives at each end, which they drove into the
earth.

Men unacquainted with the plan of this defence can only stand aside when
ranjows are laid down. Roebelin waited with the Chinamen, tame and quiet
enough now. The Subanos had all vanished in the forest, which rose, misty
and still, across the clearing. Hours they watched, expecting each moment
to hear the yell of savage fight. But no sound reached them. At length a
long line of dusky figures emerged, with arms and ornaments sparkling in
the moonlight. It was half the warriors returning.

They still showed sullenness towards the Chinamen; but the chief took
Roebelin by the hand, led him to the foot of a tree upon which stood the
largest house, and smilingly showed him the way up. It was not a pleasant
climb. The ladder, a notched trunk, dripped with dew; it was old and
rotten besides. Roebelin went up gingerly; the chief returned with a torch
to light his steps before he had got half way. But the interior was
comfortable enough--far above the mosquito realm anyhow. Roebelin felt
that an indefinite number of eyes were watching from the darkness as he
made his simple preparations for turning in; but he saw none of them, and
heard only a rustling. 'What a day I've had!' he thought, and fell asleep.

It was a roar and a rush like the crack of doom which woke him; shrieking
and shouting, clang of things that fell, boom of great waves, and thunder
such as mortal never heard dominating all. A multitude of naked bodies
stumbled over him and fell, a struggling, screaming heap. In an instant
they were gone. He started up, but pitched headlong. The floor rolled
elastic as a spring-board. It was black night. Dimly he saw clearer
patches where a flying wretch, tossed against the wall of sticks, had
broken it down. But the dust veiled them like a curtain. Gasping, on hands
and knees, Roebelin sought the doorway. Again and again, even thus, he
fell upon his side. And all the while that thundering din resounded. He
understood now. It was a great earthquake! At length the doorway was
found; holding on cautiously, Roebelin felt for the ladder. It was
gone--broken in the rush.

Of the time that followed I do not speak. There were no more shocks.
Slowly the sky whitened. He turned over the wreck--not a creature was
there, dead or living. Great gaps showed in the floor and in the roof.
Through one of these, against the rosy clouds, he saw a wreath of giant
flowers, lilac and cinnamon, clinging to the tree above. It was Vanda
Sanderiana!

       *       *       *       *       *

But that plant and the others collected at the same time never reached
Europe. Upon returning to Surigao with his treasures, Roebelin found
little beyond heaps of rubbish on the site. Earthquakes have a home in
Mindanao. But that of 1880 was the most awful on record as yet. Two years
later he returned and brought home the prize.




STORY OF PHALAENOPSIS SANDERIANA


The discovery of Phalaenopsis Sanderiana was an interesting event; nor for
botanists alone. Some thoughtful persons always incline to credit a legend
or an assertion current among savages, so long as it deals with facts
within the limits of their knowledge. Human beings are truthful by
instinct; and if we can assure ourselves that no motive tempts them to
falsehood, it is more likely than not that even an improbable story will
prove correct. The rule applies in all matters of natural history.
Numberless are the reports concerning beasts and birds and reptiles
accepted now which were a mock for generations; numberless, also, one must
add, are the reports too grotesque for discussion. For imagination asserts
itself in the case of animals, and gives a motive, though unconscious, for
the wildest inventions. But it is rarely excited by plants. When a savage
describes some flower he has seen, the statement may be trusted, 'barring
errors'; and they will probably be slight, for his power of observation,
and his memory in matters of this sort, are alike wonderful. A collector
of plants who knows his business encourages the natives to talk; often
enough they give him valuable information. The first hint of Calla
Pentlandii, the yellow Egyptian lily or 'arum,' was furnished by a Zulu
who came from a great distance to visit a relative in the service of
Captain Allison. I may venture to tell secrets which will be common
property soon. A blue Calla and a scarlet have been found--both of them
on report of Kaffirs.

The story of Phalaenopsis Sanderiana is a striking instance. Its allied
species, grandiflora and amabilis, reached Europe in 1836 and 1847
respectively. Their snowy whiteness and graceful habit prepared the world
for a burst of enthusiasm when Phalaenopsis Schilleriana, the earliest of
the coloured species, was brought from the Philippines in 1860. The Duke
of Devonshire paid Messrs. Rollison a hundred guineas for the first plant
that flowered. Such a price was startling then. Reported at Manila, it set
the Spaniards talking and inquiring. Messrs. Rollison had sent an agent to
collect Phalaenopsis there, who presently reported a scarlet species! No
one he could find had seen it, but the natives spoke confidently, and he
hoped to forward a consignment without delay. But years and years passed.
The great firm of Rollison flourished, decayed, and vanished, but that
blessed consignment was never shipped.

Other collectors visited the Philippines. They also reported the wonder,
on hearsay, and every mail brought them reiterated instructions to find
and send it at any cost. Now here, now there, the pursuers hunted it to a
corner; but when they closed, it was elsewhere. Meantime the settled
islands had been explored gradually. Many fine things escaped attention,
as we know at this day; but a flower so conspicuous, so eagerly demanded
and described, could not have been missed. As years went by, the red
Phalaenopsis became a joke. Interest degenerated into mockery.

As a matter of fact, it is very improbable that the plant had ever been in
Manila, or that a white man had beheld it. For it is found only in an
islet to the west of Mindanao, the most southerly of the Philippine group.
Mindanao itself is not yet explored, much less occupied, though the
Spaniards pushed farther and farther inland year by year. Seafaring
Tagalas may have visited that islet, and seen the red Phalaenopsis. When
they heard, at Manila, how an English duke had paid some fabulous amount
for a flower of the same genus, they would naturally mention it. And so
the legend grew.

In 1881, a score of years afterwards, the conquest of Mindanao was so far
advanced that the Spanish mail steamers called there. When Mr. Sander of
St. Albans heard this intelligence he thrilled with hope, as has been
told. Mr. Roebelin had instructions, of course, to inquire for the red
Phalaenopsis; Mr. Sander's experience teaches him that local rumours
should never be disregarded. But the search had been very close and very
long. Perhaps there was not another man in Europe who thought it possible
that the marvel could exist.

Mr. Roebelin is still living, I believe, and he could tell of some lively
adventures on that first visit to Mindanao. Constantly he heard of the red
Phalaenopsis; it was _en l'air_, he wrote, using the expression in two
senses. At the northern settlements they directed him south, at the
eastern, west, and so round the compass. But he had other matters in hand,
and contented himself with inquiries.

I do not learn whether it was accident or information which led him to the
little island Davao on his second visit, in 1883. He may have sailed
thither on chance, for a traveller is absolutely certain of finding new
plants on an untrodden shore in those seas. Anyhow Roebelin knew the quest
was over, the riddle solved triumphantly, before landing.

The half-breed Chinaman, Sam Choon, was personally conducting him on this
occasion also; he found the vessel (a native prau, of course), boatmen,
provisions, and the rest. Everything was at the collector's disposal; but
Sam Choon took a cargo of 'notions' on his own account, to trade when
opportunity arose.

Davao lies, I understand, some sixty miles from Mindanao. Its inhabitants
are Papuan thorough-bred, of the brown variety. Roebelin was deeply struck
with the appearance of the warriors who swarmed to the beach when his
intention of landing was understood. A body of men so tall and stalwart
can scarcely be found elsewhere, and for graceful carriage or activity
they could not be surpassed. A red clout was their only wear, besides
ornaments and weapons. They had the kinkled hair of the race (not wool),
bleached with lime, and dyed yellow. Very strange and pleasing is the
effect of these golden mops, lustrous if not clean, decked with plumes and
fresh flowers. But admiration came afterwards. When Roebelin saw the big
fellows mustering in haste, armed with spears and bows, stoneheaded maces
which the European soldier could scarcely wield, great swords set with
sharks' teeth, and outlandish tools of every sort for smashing and
tearing, he regarded the spectacle from another point of view. They ran
and leapt, brandishing their weapons, halloed and roared and sang, with
Papuan vivacity. The vessel approaching was too small to alarm them.
Laughter predominated in the uproar. But this was no comfort. Men are
cheerful with a feast in view.

Sam Choon, however, kept up his spirits. 'Them chaps make rumpus all
time,' he said. 'We see.' He held up a green bough shipped for the
purpose. It was all laughter now and gesticulation. Every Papuan tore a
branch from the shrubs around and waved it boisterously. 'Them no hurt,'
said Sam Choon. 'Good trade.' The Chinaman was as careful of his person as
one need be, and experienced in the ways of such people. Roebelin took
courage. As they neared the surf, the whole body of islanders rushed
towards them, splashed through the shallows whooping, dived beneath the
wave, and came up at the vessel's side. Ropes were tossed to them, and
they swam back again. But the first yellow head popped up just where
Roebelin was seated. Among the feathers twisted in it, draggled now, he
saw a spray--surely an Aerides! but bluish-red, unlike any species known.
The savage grinned and shouted, whirling the hair like an aureole around
his glistening face, threw one brawny arm into the air, and at a stroke
reached the bows. Another shot up; another. The sea was peopled in an
instant, all grinning and shouting breathlessly, all whirling their golden
locks. Among the flowers with which every head was decked, Roebelin saw
many Phalaenopsis. And most of them were ruddy!

Sam Choon lay to whilst the islanders swam ashore and formed a chain;
then, at a word, they ran up the beach full speed--making a noise, says
Roebelin, which reminded him of the earthquake he had lately felt.
Simultaneously the crew paddled their hardest, also yelling in the shrill
Chinese way. The prau sped like a flash, but half full of water. Beyond
the surf a mob seized and carried it ashore.

Papuans have no acquaintance with ceremony. Paying little attention to
their chiefs, they are not apt to discriminate among strangers. All alike
seized one of these new friends--who brought trade!---slapped him about
the body, and hugged him. Roebelin had been subjected to merciless
shampooing occasionally in Indian hammams; but he never felt the like of
that welcome. It was _massage_ by machinery.

The women had come on the scene now. Though they took no part, they
mingled with the warriors, and showed quite as much assurance as is
becoming. But they are not by any means such fine creatures as the men,
and they do not allow themselves--or they are not allowed--the curious
attraction of yellow hair. Roebelin noticed a few, however, worthy to be
helpmates of those superb animals; one girl in especial, nearly six feet
high, whose figure was a model, face pleasing and expressive, full of
character.

These people live in trees like the Subanos of Mindanao. As soon as his
baggage had been taken to the public hall, Roebelin got out beads, wire,
and Brummagem jewellery. The glimpse of that Aerides and the assurance of
a red Phalaenopsis made him impatient. But even Sam Choon found difficulty
in identifying the chiefs, to whom of course presents must be made before
business can open. However, the point interesting to Roebelin was settled
in an instant. The Phalaenopsis, they said, abounded within a few hundred
yards, and the Aerides was common enough. The white man wanted them for
medicine? He might have as many as he liked--on due payment. To-morrow the
chief would show him, and then a price must be fixed.

He slept in the hall, and at dawn he was more than ready. But early rising
is not a virtue of savages. To explore without permission would be
dangerous. Gradually the village woke to life. Men descended from their
quarters high in air, bathed, made their toilettes, and lounged about,
waiting for breakfast. Girls came down for water and returned, whilst
their mothers tidied the house. Smoke arose. In due time the men mounted,
ate, climbed down, and gathered in the public hall, where Sam Choon was
setting out a sample of his wares. Hours passed. But the chief's door
remained shut. No one passed out or in.

Roebelin saw people glance upwards with a grave air; but they showed no
surprise. He consulted Sam Choon, who had been too busy to notice.

All he said was, ''Spect chief get bad bird! Dam! All up this day!' And he
stopped his preparations.

So it proved to be--a fowl of black plumage had flown across just as the
door was opening. None of the chief's household came down that day. But
after negotiation some of the men led Roebelin to see the Phalaenopsis.
They grew in thousands over a brook close by, clinging to small trees. He
counted twenty-two plants, bearing more than a hundred flowers open, upon
a single trunk. Very curious is one point noticed. The Phalaenopsis always
grows on the northern side of its support, and always turns its flower
spike towards the southern side. It is a very bad species to travel. Of
the multitude which Roebelin gathered, not more than a hundred reached
Europe alive, and every collector since, I believe, has failed utterly.
Very few possessed his knowledge and experience.

That was Phalaenopsis Sanderiana; rather purple than red, but certainly
the flower so long sought. With the superb Aerides--now called A.
Roebelini--he was even less successful; it is only to be seen in a very
few collections of the highest class.

So the legend ends. But there is a funny little sequel. Sam Choon did well
with his 'notions.' After Mr. Roebelin's departure, he returned to Davao
and opened a promising branch of trade. To secure a permanent footing, he
thought it would be judicious to marry a daughter of the chief, and he
proposed for the giant beauty whom Roebelin had noticed on landing. The
father was astonished and amused, but finally indignant. A Chinaman,
however, though thrifty by habit and taste, does not count expense when
pleasure or business urge him, and both combined here. The chief wavered,
and took counsel of his elders. They also were astonished and indignant;
but Sam Choon found means to persuade them. So the young woman received
notice that she was to marry the Chinaman next day. Her remarks are not
chronicled. But there was much excitement among the bachelors and maidens
that evening, and presently a band of stalwart youths entered the hall
where Sam Choon sat with the chief--his father-in-law on the morrow. They
told the latter gravely that they disapproved of the match. Sam Choon
interposed with a statement of the advantages to follow, with equal
gravity. Then they threatened to smash every bone in his carcass. So the
marriage was broken off, but without ill-feeling on either side.


[Illustration: LÆLIA, GRANDIS, TENEBROSA. _WALTON GRANGE VARIETY._]




HYBRID CATTLEYAS AND LAELIAS


To right, in the Vanda House, are many hybrids of Cattleya and Laelia; but
we have many more, and it will be convenient to notice them all together
in this place. Some have not flowered yet, and therefore have received no
name; but even of these it is worth while to give the parentage, seeing
that there is no official record of hybridisation as yet. Mr. Rolfe at Kew
tries hard to keep pace with the enterprise of enthusiastic amateurs and
energetic professionals throughout the world. But comparatively few report
to him, and not every one files the _Orchid Review_. Thus it happens that
experiments carried to an issue long ago are continually repeated, in the
expectation of producing a novelty. The experimenter indeed loses nothing
save the credit he hoped to win. But in the scientific point of view time
is wasted and the confusion of names is increased. To contribute in my
small way towards an improvement in this state of things I give a list of
the Cattleya and Laelia hybrids at Woodlands, long though it be, and
uninteresting to the public at large; assured that it will be welcome to
those who study this most fascinating subject.

I may take the hybrids as they stand, with no methodical arrangement.
L.-C. means the product of a Laelia and a Cattleya, or, somewhat loosely,
of a Cattleya and a Laelia. C. × means the product of two Cattleyas; L. ×
of two Laelias.

_L.-C. Ancona_ (Catt. Harrisoniae × L. purpurata) represents each parent
almost equally, taking after Catt. Harrisoniae in colour and size of sepal
and petal; in general shape and in the hues of the labellum after L.
purpurata.

_L.-C. Nysa_ (L. crispa × Catt. Warcewiczii).--Pale mauve--the petals have
a sharp touch of crimson at the tips. Labellum all evenly crimson with a
narrow outline of white, gracefully frilled.

_L. × Measuresiana._--A natural hybrid, very rare, assumed to be the
product of L. elegans × L. purpurata. Rosy mauve. From the tube, very
long, the labellum opens squarely, purple, with a clouded throat and dusky
yellow 'eyes.'

_L.-C. Arnoldiana_ (L. purpurata × Catt. labiata). Large, clear mauve.
Petals much attenuated at the ends, which gives them a sort of 'fly-away'
appearance. The fine expanded lip, of carmine crimson, is clouded with a
deeper tint round the orange throat.

_L. × Claptonensis_ (L. elegans × L. Dormaniana).--Small, white with a
rosy flush. The long shovel lip is brilliantly crimson, fading to a white
edge.

_L.-C. amanda._--A natural hybrid of which Catt. intermedia is one parent,
L. Boothiana perhaps the other. Pale pink. The yellow throat and the
bright rosy lip show lines of deep crimson, strongly 'feathered' on either
side.

_L. × Gravesiae_ (L. crispa superba × L. praestans).--Small, rosy white.
The spade-like lip is magenta-crimson, wonderfully smooth and brilliant,
with two little yellow 'eyes' in the throat.

_L.-C. Tiresias_ (Catt. Bowringiana × L. elegans).--The petals are exactly
oval, saving pretty twirls and twists at the edges--soft bright mauve, the
narrow sepals paler. The funnel lip does not open wide, but in colour it
is like the richest and silkiest crimson velvet, almost maroon at the
throat; charmingly frilled and gauffered.

_C. × Portia._--Parents doubtful, but evidently Catt. Bowringiana is one
of them, Catt. labiata perhaps the other. Sepals and petals lively mauve,
the latter darker. The funnel of the lip brightest rose, disc of the
softest tenderest crimson imaginable, deepening against the pale yellowish
throat.

_L.-C. Tresederiana_ (Catt. Loddigesii × L. crispa superba).--Rather
curious than beautiful. The narrow petals and narrower sepals are pallid
violet; the labellum has a faintly yellow throat, and the dull purple disc
of Catt. crispa; not evenly coloured but in strong lines.

_C. × Mantinii nobilior_ (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. aurea).--Raised by M.
Mantin. Delicious is a proper word for it--neat and graceful in shape,
rosy-crimson in colour. The lip opens widely, exquisitely veined with gold
within. It has a golden tinge on either side the throat, and a margin of
deeper crimson. The whole colouring is indescribably soft and tender.

_C. × Mantinii inversa_ represents the same parentage transposed (Catt.
aurea × Catt. Bowringiana).--Small like its mother, of brightest deepest
rose. The lip, loosely open above, swells to a fine expanse below, of
darker tint. Throat golden, charmingly scored with crimson-brown, like
aurea. The disc shows an arch of dark crimson on a rosy ground. It will be
seen that the influence of Bowringiana strongly predominates.

_C. × Chloris_ (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. maxima) much resembles the
above. It is less brilliant, however; the lip does not open so freely, and
the arch mentioned, though even darker, is not so effective on a less
lively ground.

_L.-C. Fire Queen._--Parentage not recorded. I have not seen this flower,
nor even an account of it, but it received an Award of Merit, June 6,
1897.

_L.-C. Lady Wigan_ (L. purpurata Russelliana × Catt. Mossiae
aurea).--Dainty pink of sepal and petal. From the pale yellow throat issue
a number of crimson rays which darken to violet purple in the disc.

_C.-L. Parysatis_ (Catt. Bowringiana × L. pumila).--Rosy pink. The
funnel-shaped lip opens handsomely, showing a disc of soft crimson with a
white speck at the tip.

_L.-C. Robin Measures_ is assumed to be a natural hybrid of Laelia
xanthina × Catt. Regnieri, a variety of Catt. Schilleriana. Sepals and
petals smooth dainty green, the latter just touched with a suspicion of
purple at the tips. It has the shovel lip of Schilleriana, a yellow tube
and golden throat, from which descends a line of darkest crimson. The
ground-colour of the disc is white, but clouded with crimson-lake and
closely barred with dark crimson up to the white edge.

_L.-C. Bellairensis_ (Catt. Bowringiana × L. Goldiana).--So curiously like
L. autumnalis that a close observer even would take it for that species.
In shape, however, it is more graceful than the pink form, and in colour
much more pale than atro-rubens.

_L.-C. Tiresias superba_ (Catt. Bowringiana × L. elegans Turneri).--I
heard some one exclaim 'What a study in colour!' It is indeed, and in form
too--not large, but smoothly regular as pencil could draw. The sepals make
an exact triangle, delicate rosy purple, netted over with soft lines.
Petals broad and short, darker. Lip rather long, white in the throat with
a faintest stain of yellow, the disc and edges of the lobes glorious
crimson-purple, with a dark cloud above which stretches all up the throat.
A gem of beauty indescribable.

_C. × Browniae._--Bought as a hybrid of Catt. Bowringiana × Catt.
Loddigesii, but it shows no trace of either parent. Very pretty and odd,
however. The tiny little sepals are hardly seen, lost behind the huge
pink petals. The lip also has pink lobes above a gamboge throat, and a
bright crimson-purple disc.

_L.-C. Albanensis._--A natural hybrid, doubtless the product of L. grandis
× Catt. Warneri. Pale rosy-mauve, lip crimson, deepening as it expands,
but fading again towards the margin. A large and grand flower.

_L.-C. Aphrodite_ (Catt. Mendelii × L. purpurata).--Sepals and petals pure
white. Labellum deepest crimson with rosy tip.

_L. × Sanderae_ (L. xanthina × L. Dormaniana).--Sepals and petals crimson,
lip purplish rose.

_C. × Mariottiana_ (Catt. Eldorado × Catt. gigas).--Very pretty, dark
rose, lip bright crimson with yellow throat.

_L. × splendens_ (L. crispa × L. purpurata).--Pink. Lip crimson-purple,
edged with white, heavily fringed.

_C. × Atalanta_ (Catt. Leopoldii × Catt. Warcewiczii).--Large and waxy.
Sepals and petals rose veined with crimson, lip bright magenta.

_L.-C. excellens_ (Catt. gigas ocullata × L. purpurata Brysiana).--A
superb flower, very large, rosy mauve, lip crimson.

_L.-C. Amazon_ (Catt. maxima × L. purpurata).--Sepals and petals softly
flushed, lip much darker in tone, veined with crimson.

_C. × Prince of Wales_ (Catt. fimbriata × Catt. Wageneri).--White. The lip
amethyst, veined with rose and frilled; throat golden.

_C. × Kienastiana_ (Catt. Luddemanniana × Catt. aurea).--Sepals flushed
white, petals warm lilac, the veins paler; magenta lip with shadings of
orange and lilac towards the edge and a white margin.

_L.-C. Hon. Mrs. Astor_ (Catt. Gaskelliana × L. xanthina).--Sepals clear
yellow, petals white with a sulphur tinge; throat golden yellow veined
with purple, disc rose, veined with crimson and edged with lilac.

_L.-C. Broomfieldensis_ (Catt. aurea-chrysotoxa × L. pumila
Dayana).--Mauve. The lip deep crimson, gracefully frilled; the throat has
crimson and gold markings on a purple ground.

_C. × Fowleri_ (Catt. Leopoldii × Catt. Hardyana).--Rosy lilac, lip
crimson. The side lobes are white tipped with crimson.

_C. × Miss Measures_ (Catt. speciosissima × Catt. velutina).--Pretty
mauve-pink with darker lines. Golden throat, lip crimson veined with
purple.

_C. × William Murray_ (Catt. Mendelii × Catt. Lawrenceana).--Rosy with a
purple tinge. Throat veined with orange and purple, lip purple-crimson.

_L.-C. C.-G. Roebling_ (L. purpurata alba × Catt. Gaskelliana).--Sepals
and petals flushed, lip deepest violet, suffused with crimson and edged
with white.

_L.-C. D. S. Brown_ (Catt. Trianae × L. elegans).--Soft pink, throat
yellow with a brownish tinge, lip carmine-crimson.

_L.-C. Mardellii fascinator_ (L. elegans Turneri × Catt.
speciosissima).--Mauve. Throat yellow, darkening to orange in front, lip
purple-crimson.

_L.-C. callistoglossa_ (L. purpurata × Catt. gigas).--Sepals pale rosy
mauve, petals darker. Throat yellow streaked with purple; lip purple.

_L.-C. callistoglossa ignescens_ (Catt. gigas × L. purpurata).--Sepals
rosy lilac, petals a deeper shade, lip glowing purple.

_L. × Latona_ (L. purpurata × L. cinnabarina).--Pale orange. Lip whitish
at the base, the disc crimson bordered with orange.

_L.-C. Decia_ (L. Perrinii × Catt. aurea).--Pale violet, deepening
towards the tips. Lip crimson, streaked with white on the side lobes, with
white and rosy purple on the disc.

_L.-C. Eudora_ (Catt. Mendelii × L. purpurata).--Rosy purple. Lip deepest
crimson shaded with maroon.

_L.-C. Eudora alba_ (L. purpurata alba × Catt. Mendelii).--Ivory white.
Lip crimson with purple shadings.

_L.-C. Hippolyta_ (Catt. Mossiae × L. cinnabarina).--Bright orange with a
rosy purplish tinge. The lip red-purple, much frilled.

_L.-C. Zephyra_ (Catt. Mendelii × L. xanthina).--All Nankin yellow except
the crimson disc, which has a pale margin.

_L.-C. Amesiana_ (L. crispa × Catt. maxima).--White washed with amethyst.
Lip purple-crimson fading towards the margin.

_L.-C. Exoniensis_ (Catt. Mossiae × L. crispa).--White flushed with rosy
mauve. Lip purple-crimson.

_L. × Yula_ (L. cinnabarina × L. purpurata).--Scarcely larger than
cinnabarina, bright orange, the petals veined and flushed with crimson.
The lip of size proportionate--that is, small--shows more of the purpurata
influence in its bright crimson disc.

_L. × Yula inversa_ (L. purpurata × L. cinnabarina).--The same parentage
but transposed. More than twice as large as the other and spreading, but
thin. Sepals of the liveliest orange, petals agreeably tinged with purple.
On the long narrow lip this pink shade deepens almost to red. Upon the
whole, neither of them is to be commended for its own sake, but the
brilliant orange of cinnabarina is retained so perfectly that both will
prove valuable for hybridising.

_C. × Our Queen_ (Catt. Mendelii × unknown).--Sepals and petals white,
faintly flushed. In the throat, of brightest yellow, are several brown
lines. The upper part of the lip is crimson, the disc purple.

_L.-C. Empress of India_ (L. purpurata Brysiana × Catt. Dowiana).--Sepals
and petals rose, tinged with violet at the ends, lip large, spreading, of
the richest crimson-purple.

_L.-C. Leucoglossa_ (Catt. Loddigesii × L.-C. fausta).--Rose-pink. Lip
white, touched with yellow in the throat.

_L.-C. Henry Greenwood_ (L.-C. Schilleriana × Catt. Hardyana).--Sepals and
petals cream-coloured, tinged with pink, the latter veined with rosy
purple. Lip purple with yellow throat.

_L.-C. Canhamiana_ (Catt. Mossiae × L. purpurata).--White tinged with
mauve. Lip crimson-purple, with a narrow white margin, crisped.

_L.-C. Pallas superba_ (L. crispa × Catt. aurea).--Dark rose. Lip purple
in the throat, golden in the disc, finely striped with crimson.

_C. × Wendlandiana_ (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. gigas).--Bright soft rose,
lip purple-crimson with two yellow 'eyes' beneath the tube.

_C. × Cecilia_ (Catt. Lawrenceana × Catt. Trianae).--Sepals and petals
deep violet, throat buff changing to violet, disc purple.

_C. × Louis Chaton_ (Catt. Trianae × Catt. Lawrenceana--the same parentage
as Cecilia but reversed).--A most successful combination. Fine in shape,
petals soft rosy mauve, sepals paler, and superb crimson lip, with the
yellow of Trianae strongly expressed in the throat.

_C. O'Brieniana._--A natural hybrid of Catt. Loddigesii and Catt.
Walkeriana apparently; pale mauve; lip yellow.

_L.-C. Miss Lily Measures_ (L.-C. Arnoldiana × Gottoiana).--Very large.
Sepals and petals dark rose; lip rosy purple.

_L.-C. velutino-elegans_ (Catt. velutina × L. elegans).--Sepals and petals
white with a yellow tinge, veined with rose. At the throat an orange
blotch. Lip darkest crimson with white veins.

I append a list of hybrid seedlings which have not yet flowered and
therefore have received no name as yet. It will be useful only to those
who practise the fascinating art of Hybridisation. But such are a
multitude already, and each year their numbers swell.

  Cattleya labiata × Catt. Bowringiana.
     "  Mendelii × L. xanthina.
     "  Warnerii × L. Euterpe.
     "  Bowringiana × Catt. Hardyana.
     "     "  × Sophronitis grandiflora.
     "  labiata × Catt. Brymeriana.
     "  Gaskelliana × Catt. Harrisoniae violacea.
     "  labiata × L. Perrinii.
     "  Bowringiana × L. Perrinii.
     "  granulosa × Catt. gigas Sanderae.
     "  amethystoglossa × Catt. Trianae Osmanii.
     "  labiata × L. Gravesiae.
     "  Bowringiana × Catt. Leopoldii.
     "  Schofieldiana × Catt. Schroderae.
     "  Schroderae × L. elegans.
     "  Harrisoniae × Catt. Hardyana.
     "  Bowringiana × L.-C. Clive.
     "  labiata × Catt. Brymeriana.
     "  Gaskelliana × Catt. Hardyana.
     "  Schroderae × L. grandis.
     "  granulosa × Catt. gigas.
     "  Gaskelliana × L. crispa.
     "  Mossiae × L. purpurata Schroderae.
     "  Leopoldii × L. crispa superba.
     "  Leopoldii × Catt. Harrisoniae violacea.
  Laelia tenebrosa × Catt. gigas Sanderae.
    "  harpophylla × L. elegans Blenheimensis.
    "  cinnabarina × Catt. Skinnerii.
    "  tenebrosa × L.-C. Phoebe.
    "      "  × Catt. Mossiae aurea.
    "  praestans × Catt. Lord Rothschild.
    "  Dayanum × Catt. labiata.
    "  cinnabarina × Catt. Trianae var. Mary Ames.
    "  purpurata × L. grandis.
    "     "       × Catt. Schroderae.
    "  amanda × Catt. aurea.
    "  purpurata Schroderae × Catt. Mossiae aurea.
    "  Lucasiana × L. elegans Schilleriana.
    "  elegans × Catt. Mossiae.
    "  crispa × Catt. aurea.
    "  purpurata × Catt. Hardyana.
    "     "       × Catt. Mossiae.
    "  tenebrosa × Catt. Warnerii.
    "      "       × Catt. Mendelii.
    "  elegans × Catt. gigas.

Beyond the hybrids are twenty plants of white Cattleya intermedia. The
owner of our collection was first among mortals, in Europe at least, to
behold that marvel of chaste loveliness. Mr. Sander received a plant of
intermedia from Brazil, which the collector labelled 'white.' Albino
Cattleyas were few then, and Roezl alone perhaps ventured to imagine that
every red species had a white sister. So they took little notice of the
label at St. Albans. When Mr. Measures paid a visit, it was even shown to
him as an example of the reckless statements forwarded by collectors. He,
however, in a sporting mood, offered ten guineas, and Mr. Sander gladly
accepted, but under a written proviso that he guaranteed nothing at all.
And in due time Cattleya intermedia Parthenia appeared, to astonish and
delight the universe. Several other albino forms have turned up since, all
of which are represented here, but Parthenia remains the finest--snowy
white, with a very long lip, which scarcely expands beyond the tube. That
is to say, 'the books' describe it as snowy white. A careful observer will
remark the faintest possible tinge of purple in the throat.

We have also a natural hybrid, Catt. Louryana, which the learned dubiously
assign to intermedia alba × bicolor; all white saving the lip, which is
mauve-pink with darker lines.

Among other albino rarities here is the charming L. praestans alba, pure
as snow but for a plum-coloured edging round the upper portion of the lip.

_L. Perrinii alba_--stainless throughout. This exquisite variety also
appeared for the first time in our collection.

_L. Perrinii nivea_--not less beautiful assuredly, though it has the
imperfection, as an albino, of a pale pink labellum and a yellow throat.

Beyond these rise twenty-five stately plants of Angraecum sesquipedale,
which we are learning to call Aeranthus sesquipedalis. There are those who
do not value the marvel, though none but the blind surely can fail to
admire it. In truth, like other giants, it does not readily lend itself to
any useful purpose. I think I could design a wreath of Angraecum
sesquipedale which would put jewelled coronets to shame; but for a bouquet
or for the dress or for table decoration, it is equally unsuited.
Wherefore the ladies give a glance of wonder at its ten-inch 'tail' and
pass by, calling it, as I have heard with my own ears, a vegetable
starfish. At Woodlands happily there are other flowers enough for a
'regiment of women,' as John Knox rudely put it, and they do not grudge
the room which these noble plants occupy.




A LEGEND OF MADAGASCAR


I must not name the leading personage in this sad story. Though
twenty-five years have gone by since he met his fate, there are still
those who mourn for him. Could it be supposed that my report would come to
the knowledge of two among them, old people dwelling modestly in a small
French town, I should not publish it. For they have never heard the truth.
Those kindly and thoughtful comrades of Alcide Leboeuf--so to name
him--who transmitted the news of his death, described it as an accident.
But the French Consul at Tamatave sent a brief statement privately to the
late Mr. Cutter, of Great Russell Street, in whose employ Leboeuf was
travelling, that he might warn any future collectors.

M. Leon Humblot has told how he and his brother once entertained six
guests at Tamatave; within twelve months he alone survived. So deadly is
that climate. Alcide Leboeuf was one of the six, but he perished by the
hand of man. The poor fellow was half English by blood, and wholly English
by education. His father, I believe, stuffed birds and sold 'curiosities'
at a small shop in the East End. At an early age the boy took to
'collecting' as a business. He travelled for Mr. Cutter in various lands,
seeking rare birds and insects, and he did his work well, though subject
to fits of hard drinking from time to time.

At the shop in Great Russell Street, after a while, he made acquaintance
with that admirable collector Crossley, whose stories of Madagascar fired
his imagination. Mr. Cutter was loath to send out a man of such unsteady
character. The perils of that awful climate were not so well understood,
perhaps, twenty-five years ago, but enough was known to make an employer
hesitate. Crossley had been shipwrecked on the coast, had lived years with
the natives, learned their language, and learned also to adopt their
habits while journeying among them. But Leboeuf would not be daunted. A
giant in stature--over seven feet, they say--of strength proportionate,
not inexperienced in wild travel but never conscious of ache or pain, he
mocked at danger. When Crossley refused to take an untried man into the
swamps of Madagascar, he vowed he would go alone. That is, indeed, the
most fascinating of all lands to an enthusiast even now, when we are
assured that the Epyornis, the mammoth of birds, is extinct. At that time
there was no good reason to doubt the unanimous assertion of the natives
that it still lived. Crossley was so confident that he neglected to buy
eggs badly shattered, waiting for perfect specimens. His scruples were
'bad business' for Mr. Cutter, as that gentleman lived to see, but they
appeared judicious at the time. Fragments of Epyornis egg, slung on cords,
were the vessels generally used in some parts for carrying water--are
still perhaps. Besides this, endless marvels were reported, some of which
have been secured in these days. Briefly, the young man was determined to
go, and Mr. Cutter gave him a commission.

Thus Leboeuf made one of M. Humblot's guests at Tamatave. Another was
Mr. Wilson, the only orchid collector there; for M. Humblot did not feel
much interest in those plants, I believe, at the time. I have not been
able to learn anything about Wilson's antecedents. His diary, upon which
this narrative is framed, was lying about at Tamatave for years; we may
conclude, perhaps, that the French Consul did not know to whom it should
be forwarded--there was no English Consul. Probably Wilson travelled on
his own account; certainly none of the great orchid merchants employed
him. He was young and inexperienced; glad to attach himself, no doubt, to
a big and self-confident old hand like Leboeuf.

Some weeks or months afterwards we find the pair at a large village called
Malela, which lies at the foot of Ambohimiangavo, apparently a well-known
mountain. Ellis mentions it, I observe, but only by name, as the richest
iron district of the Central Provinces. They had had some trouble on the
way. Among the hints and instructions which Crossley furnished, one in
especial counselled Leboeuf to abstain from shooting in the
neighbourhood of houses. Each tribe, he wrote, holds some living creature
sacred--it may be a beast or a bird, a reptile, or even an insect. 'These
must not be hurt within the territory of such tribe; the natives will
readily inform you which they are. But, in addition, each village commonly
has its sacred creature, and it will be highly dangerous to shoot until
you have identified the object. As you do not speak the language you had
very much better make it a rule not to shoot anything on cultivated
ground.'

This was not a man to heed fantastic warnings, but he learned prudence
before they had gone too far into the wilds. At a short distance from
Tamatave, in a field of sugar-cane, Leboeuf saw a beautiful bird, new to
him, which had a tuft of feathers on each side the beak--so Wilson
described it. He followed and secured the prize. The semi-civilised
natives with them paid no attention. But when, an hour later, surrounded
by the people of the village, he took out his bird to skin, there was a
sudden tumult. The women and children ran away screaming, the men rushed
for their weapons. But collectors were not unfamiliar beings, if
incomprehensible, so near the port. After some anxious moments, the
headmen or priests consented to take a heavy fine, and drove them from the
spot.

Their arrival at Malela had been announced, of course, and they found an
uproarious welcome. All the people of the neighbourhood were assembling
for a great feast. While their men built a hut of branches outside the
fortifications--for no house was unoccupied--they sat beneath the trees in
the central space. Such was the excitement that even white visitors
scarcely commanded notice. Chief after chief arrived, sitting crosswise in
an ornamented hammock--not lying--his folded arms resting on the bamboo by
which it was suspended. A train of spearmen pressed behind him. They
marched round the square, displaying their magnificence to the admiration
of the crowd, and dismounted at the Prince's door--if that was his
title--leaving their retainers outside. The mob of spearmen there numbered
hundreds, the common folk thousands, arrayed in their glossiest and
showiest lambas of silk or cotton. No small proportion of them were
beating tom-toms; others played on the native flutes and fiddles; all
shouted. The row was deafening. But doubtless it was a brilliant
spectacle.

One part of the vast square, however, remained empty. Beneath a fine tree
stood three posts firmly planted. They were nine or ten feet high, squared
and polished, each branching at the top into four limbs; tree trunks, in
fact, chosen for the regularity of their growth. In front was a very large
stone, unworked, standing several feet above the ground. The travellers
were familiar with these objects now. They recognised the curious idols of
the country and their altar. On each side of the overshadowing tree
barrels were ranged, one on tap, and another waiting its turn. This also
they recognised. However savage the inland population, however ignorant
of the white man's arts, all contrived even then to transport puncheons of
rum through swamp and jungle for occasions like this. Now and again
persons distinguished from the throng by costlier dress and ornaments were
escorted to the spot and they drank with ceremonies. Wilson did not like
the prospect. His companion had broken loose once before under a similar
temptation. But there was no help.

Presently the Chamberlain, so to call him, approached with a number of
officers, and invited them to attend the Prince. They found that potentate
sitting at the end of a long file of chiefs. The floor of the hall was
covered with snowy mats, which set off the beauty of their many-coloured
robes. Beside the Prince squatted a pleasant-looking man in pink vest and
white lamba. He wore a broad-brimmed hat of silky felt, black, with a band
of gold lace, contrasting at every point with the showily-dressed chiefs
around. This, they knew, must be the high priest, the Sikidy. The Prince
received them courteously, but since their interpreter knew but little
French, and less, as it seems, of the language of this tribe,
communication was limited to the forms of politeness. Then slaves brought
in the feast, setting great iron dishes on the mats all along the row.
Simultaneously the band struck up, and women began singing at the top of
their voices.

The heat, the smell, the noise, the excitement of the scene were
intoxicating without alcohol. But rum flowed literally in buckets, and
palm wine several days old, which is even stronger. Wilson ventured to
urge caution after a while, and at length Leboeuf tore himself away. Men
came and went all the time, so their departure was unnoticed.

They reached the hut of boughs, now finished. Leboeuf threw himself down
and slept; relieved of anxiety, Wilson set off to gather orchids. Malela
appears to be a fine hunting-ground for collectors, but he only mentions
the fact to explain his imprudence in leaving Leboeuf for some hours.
The latter woke, found himself quite alone--for all the servants were
merry-making, of course--and he also started off collecting. Unfortunately
he traversed the village. And some of the chiefs took him in a friendly
spirit to the barrel under the tree.

Wilson was returning--happy with a load of new orchids maybe--when he
heard a shot, followed by a clamour of young voices. Next instant a swarm
of children burst from the forest, and ran screaming across the open
ground. Wilson had heard that cry before. His blood chilled. If the men of
the other village were furious, how would it be with these drunken
savages! He hurried to the spot whence the children had emerged.

As their voices died away he became conscious of shouting--an exultant
tone. It was Leboeuf. They met in the outskirts of the wood. At sight of
Wilson he bawled--

'Hi, young un! got any weeds to sell? Give you tuppence for the lot.
Pretty flowers--all a-blowing and a-growing! Take 'em to the missus! The
ladies loves you chaps. I say, what'll old Cutter look like when he sees
_that_?' Leboeuf threw down an animal which he carried on his shoulder,
and danced round it, shouting and laughing.

It was a small creature, brownish grey, with enormous ears very human in
shape, long skeleton hands, and a bushy tail thicker than a lady's boa. By
that and the ears Wilson recognised the Madagascar sloth, rarest of all
animals then in museums, and very rare still. He had no particular reason
to suspect that the natives reverenced it, but a beast so eerie in
appearance and habits might well be thought sacred.

He implored Leboeuf to leave it and come away; Leboeuf did not even
listen. After dancing and roaring till he was tired he picked up the
aye-aye and marched on, talking loud.

Thus they did not hear the noise of a multitude approaching. But from the
edge of the forest they saw it. Chiefs led the van, stumbling and
staggering; among the foremost was that personage in snowy lamba and broad
black hat--not pleasant-looking now. A mob of spearmen pressed behind. The
clearing was a compact mass of natives, running, wailing,
gesticulating--and they still streamed in thousands through the narrow
gate. It was like the rush of ants when their nest is disturbed.

The sight paralysed even Leboeuf; Wilson, after an awful glance, ran
back and hid. He could hear his comrade's shouts above the uproar for a
moment--then there was a pause, and the interpreter's voice reached him
faintly. Wilson still crept away. He heard only a confused clamour for
some minutes, but then a burst of vengeful triumph made the forest ring.
It needed no explanation. Leboeuf was overpowered. The noise grew
fainter--they were dragging him away--and ceased.

For hours Wilson lay in an agony of fear. That Leboeuf was killed he did
not doubt; but how could he himself escape, alone in the forest, ignorant
of the roads, many weeks journey from the coast? A more cruel fate would
probably be his. It might be hoped that Leboeuf's tortures had been
short.

He did not dare push deeper into the wood; his single chance lay in
creeping round the village after dark, and possibly rejoining his
servants, if they still lived. If not, he might recover the road at least.
But man could not be in more desperate straits.

Remaining thus in the vicinity, towards dusk he heard a whistle far off.
The frenzy of his relief is not to be described--it was the rallying
signal of the party. But suppose the enemy used this device to ensnare
him? It might be! And yet--there was the hope. At worst they would give
him a speedy death. He answered. Gradually the searchers drew near. They
were his own men, led by the interpreter.

Wilson could not speak French, but he grasped that the natives would not
harm him. Leboeuf?--It was almost a comfort that he could not understand
precisely. The interpreter's pantomime suggested an awful fate. Leboeuf
stood at bay with his gun, and the chiefs held him in parley while men
crept through the brushwood. They threw a lasso from behind, and dragged
him down. He was borne to the square, and after dread ceremonies which
Wilson shuddered to comprehend, laid upon the altar.

In a maze of horror and anxiety he entered the village. It was not yet
dark. But of all the multitude swarming there some hours before not a soul
was visible. They had not left; every house resounded with the hum of many
voices--low, and, as it seemed to Wilson, praying. The square also was
deserted; upon the high stone altar he saw a shapeless mass from which
small wreaths of smoke still curled.

That was the fate of poor Leboeuf. The same night Wilson was seized by
fever. He struggled on, but died within a few hours' march of Tamatave.




LAELIA PURPURATA


The next house is given up to L. purpurata with some L. grandis tenebrosa
intermixed. Not much can be said of the latter species. Its extraordinary
colour is best described as madder-brown, but here we have a variety of
which the ends of the sepal and petal are yellowish. The broad lip, dull
purple, has a madder-brown cloud at its throat, whence lines of the same
hue proceed to the edges all round. The value of L. tenebrosa for
hybridising needs no demonstration--it introduces a colour unique, of
which not a trace can be found elsewhere. But as for the flower itself, I
protest that it is downright ugly. This is _à propos_ of nothing at all.
_Liberavi animam meam._

It is always difficult to realise that an orchid of the grand class is a
weed. All our conventional notions of a flower revolt against the
proposition. I have remarked that it seems specially absurd to an
ingenuous friend, if one recall the fact while he contemplates Laelia
purpurata. That majestic thing, so perfect in colour and shape, so
delicately finished--a weed! So it is, nevertheless, as lightly regarded
by Nature or by man in its native home as groundsel is by us. The Indians
of Central America love their forest flowers passionately. So do those in
the north of the Southern Continent. But I never heard that the Indians of
Brazil showed a sign of such intelligence. The most glorious Cattleyas to
them are what a primrose was to Peter Bell.

The obvious, unquestionable truth that Laelia purpurata is nothing but a
weed has suggested some unorthodox thoughts, as I considered it,
'pottering about' my houses. This is not the place to set them down at
length. But we have reached a less important part of the collection; I may
chatter for a moment.

All things are grandest in the hot zone, from mountains to plagues.
Excepting the Mississippi and the Yang-tse-Kiang, all the mightiest rivers
even are there. We have no elephants, nor lions, nor anacondas; no tapong
trees three hundred feet high, nor ceibas almost as tall; no butterflies
ten inches across, no storms that lay a province waste and kill fifty
thousand mortals. Further, all things that are most beautiful dwell within
the Tropics--tigers, giraffes, palm-trees, fish, snakes, insects, flowers.
Further still, the most intelligent of beasts are there--apes and monkeys.

It may well be doubted whether man, the animal, is an exception. In this
very country of Brazil, Wallace found among the Indians 'a development of
the chest such as never exists, I believe, in the best-formed European.'
No race of the Temperate Zone approaches the Kroomen in muscular force,
and negroes generally are superior. The strength of the Borneo Dyaks I
myself have noted with amazement. Black Papuans are giants, and the brown
variety excel any white race in vigour. The exception is that most
interesting Negrito strain, represented by a few thousands here and there
from Ceylon to the Philippines. But even they, so small and wretched, have
marvellous strength.

Thus all natural things rise to their highest level in the hot zones--I
have to put the case very roughly, for this is a monstrous digression.
Does it not seem to follow that man should rise to his highest level
there? The aborigines are savages mostly and ever have been; no people of
whom we have record has become civilised unless by an impulse from
without, and none could reach the bulk of these. But India shows that the
brain, as the form, of man may develop to perfection under the hottest
sky. Therefore, to end this brief excursus, I conclude that as the
tropical weed Laelia purpurata is more majestic and more beautiful than
our weeds, so will tropic man some day rise to a height of majesty
unattainable in our zone.

But the reader has had enough of it--and so have I; for to crowd a volume
of facts and arguments into a paragraph is irritating labour. Let us get
back to business. Here are some of our finest varieties of L. purpurata.

_Marginata._--White of sepal and petal. It takes its name from the white
margin surrounding the crimson purple lip. Very striking also is a large
white triangle upon the disc, charmingly netted over with crimson.

_Archduchess_ is faintly rosy. The lobes, closely folded, are deepest
purple-crimson, over an orange throat. On either side the dark central
line of the labellum is a pale blur.

_Macfarlanei._--Sepals and petals very narrow, of a clear rose tint, with
darker lines. A patch almost white in the front of the dark crimson lip.

_Lowiana._--Petals rose, sepals paler. The tube is not large, but it, and
also the labellum, could not be darker if still to be classed as crimson.
Even the yellow of the throat is obscured, but there is a lighter blotch
at the tip.

_Tenebrosa._--The name is due apparently to branching lines of deep maroon
which intersect the crimson lip. Petals and sepals are white, and there is
a white patch on the labellum.


THE DENDROBIUM HOUSE

is the last in this series, where we see the usual varieties in
perfection; there are pseudo-bulbs of Wardianum more than 4 feet long. At
the present day, however, orchidists will not look at 'usual varieties' of
Dendrobium with patience--nobile, cupreum, fimbriatum, thyrsiflorum, etc.
etc. etc. They are exquisitely lovely, of course. Examine them as often as
you will, new marvels of beauty appear. The fact is that most experts
never do examine these common things; they look about for varieties. Such
blasé souls can be accommodated, if needful. Here are specimens of _nobile
album_, all white save the deep crimson blotch and a faint yellowish tinge
upon the lip; _nobile virginale_, which has lost even this trace of
colour; _nobile murrhinianum_, very rare, understood to be a hybrid with
Wardianum, snow white, the tips of sepal, petal and lip purple, and a
great purple blotch in the throat; _nobile Cooksoni_, no hybrid, but a
sport, in which the ordinary colouring of the lip is repeated in the
petals; _nobile Ruckerianum_, very large, the deep blotch on the lip
bordered with white; _nobile splendens grandiflorum_, an enlarged and
intensified form of the type.

Of hybrids I may name _Leechianum_ (nobile × aureum), white, sepals,
petals, and lip tipped with rosy purple, the great blotch on the disc
crimson with a golden tinge. _Ainsworthii_, of the same parentage and very
similar, but the blotch is wine-colour. _Schneiderianum_ (Findleyanum ×
aureum), bearing white sepals, petals and lip tipped with rosy purple,
throat orange, similarly striped.

Here are several 'specimens' of Epidendrum radicans, a tangle of fresh
green roots and young shoots of green still more fresh and tender,
pleasant to look upon even though not flowering; but verdant pillars set
with tongues of flame at the right season. And an interesting hybrid of
it, _Epidendrum × radico-vitellinum_ (radicans × vitellinum),--brightest
orange, the lip almost scarlet, with three yellow keels upon the disc;
very pretty and effective.

Besides, we have here a Spathoglottis hybrid, _aureo-Veillardii_, _Wigan's
var._ (Kimballiana × Veillardii),--most charming of all the charming
family. Golden--the sepals tinged, and the petals thickly dotted with
crimson; lip crimson and yellow.




STORY OF DENDROBIUM SCHRÖDERIANUM


Many who care nothing for our pleasant science recall the chatter and
bustle which greeted the reappearance of Dendrobium Schröderianum in 1891.
For they spread far beyond the 'horticultural circles.' Every newspaper in
the realm gave some sort of a report, and a multitude of my confrères were
summoned to spin out a column, from such stores of ingenuity as they could
find, upon a plant which grew on human skulls and travelled under charge
of tutelary idols. The scene at 'Protheroe's' was a renewal of the good
old time when every season brought its noble plant, and every plant
brought out its noble price--in short, a sensation.

The variety of Dendrobium phalaenopsis hereafter to bear Baron Schröder's
name was sent to Kew by Forbes about 1857. This single plant remained a
special trophy of the Royal Gardens for many years. It throve and
multiplied. In course of time Sir Joseph Hooker was able to give a small
piece, in exchange for other varieties, to Mr. Day, of Tottenham, to Baron
Schröder, and to Messrs. Veitch. The latter sold their specimen to Baron
Schröder; Mr. Day's collection was dispersed, and the same greatest of
amateurs bought his fragment. Thus all three plants known to exist in
private hands came into Baron Schröder's possession, and the variety took
his name.

This state of things lasted ten years. Mr. Sander then resolved to wait no
longer upon chance. He studied the route of Forbes's travels, consulted
the authorities at Kew, and, with their aid, came to a conclusion. In 1890
my friend Mr. Micholitz went out to seek Dendrobium Schröderianum in its
native wilds.

The man of sense who finds a treasure does not proclaim the spot till he
has filled his pockets, nor even, if it may be, till he has cleared out
the hoard. It is universally understood that Micholitz discovered the
object of his quest in New Guinea. If that error encouraged the
exploration of a most interesting island, as I hear, it has done a public
service. And the explorers have not wasted their time. They did not fall
in with Dendrobium Schröderianum, because it was not there; but they
secured other valuable things. Very shortly now the true habitat will be
declared. Meantime I must only say that it is one of the wildest of those
many 'Summer Isles of Eden' which stud the Australasian Sea.

Micholitz arrived in a trading-vessel, the captain of which was trusted by
the natives. Under that protection the chiefs allowed him to explore,
agreeing to furnish men and canoes--for a consideration, naturally. Their
power did not stretch beyond a few miles of coast; the neighbours on each
side were unfriendly, or at least distrusted; and bitterly hostile tribes
lay beyond--hostile, that is, to the people among whom Micholitz landed.
All alike are head-hunters, and all charge one another with
cannibalism--but falsely in every case, I understand.

The field was narrow, therefore, and uncommonly perilous, for the
best-intentioned of these islanders cannot always resist the impulse to
crown their trophies with a white man's head--as the Captain assured
Micholitz day by day with an earnestness which became oppressive after a
while. But he was very lucky--or rather the probabilities had been studied
so thoughtfully before any step was taken that he sailed to the very
island. I do not mean that it is wonderful to find an orchid on the first
day's search when once its habitat is known. Dendrobiums cover a great
tract of land. It is the nicety of calculation ten thousand miles away
which should be admired.

There were no plants, however, just around the little port. After some
days spent in making arrangements, Micholitz received an intimation that
the chiefs were going to a feast and he might accompany them; there is no
lack of interpreters on that coast, whence so many poor wretches are
enticed to English or French colonies--some of whom return nowadays. The
Captain could not go. In refusing he looked at Micholitz with a quizzical,
hesitating air, as though inclined to make a revelation.

'Is there any danger?' Micholitz asked.

'Oh no! not a bit!--not a bit of danger! I answer for that. You'll be
amused, I daresay. They're rum chaps.'

The chance of making a trip beyond the narrow friendly area in safety was
welcome, and at daylight he started with the chiefs. It was but a few
hours' paddling--to the next bay. The feast was given, as is usual, to
celebrate the launch of a war-prau. In martial panoply the guests
embarked, paint and feathers, spears and clubs. They were met by their
hosts in the same guise upon the beach. After ceremonies probably--but I
have no description--all squatted down in a circle, and a personage,
assumed to be the priest, howled for a while. Then the warriors began to
dance, two by two. It was very wearisome, and besides, very hot. Micholitz
asked at length whether he might leave. The interpreter said there was no
objection. He walked towards the forest, which stood some distance back,
even as a wall, skirting the snowy beach. The grey huts of the village
glimmered among palms and fruit-trees on one hand.

A sunken way had been dug from the edge of the surf to a long low building
a hundred yards back; within it lay the prau doubtless, ready to be
launched. Micholitz skirted this channel. He noticed a curious group of
persons sitting apart--an old man, two women, a boy, and a girl. The
elders were squatting motionless upon the sand, so bowed that the long
wool drooping hid their faces; the children lay with their heads in the
women's laps. None looked up; in passing he observed that these latter
were bound.

The boat-house--so to call it--spanning the channel, was a hundred feet
long, built of palm thatch, with substantial posts at due distance. As he
walked along it, Micholitz became aware of an unpleasant smell. It was not
strong. But in turning the further corner he marked a great purple stain
upon the sand. Flies clustered thick there. It was blood. And then, upon
the wall of thatch above, and the corner post, he traced the stain
streaming broadly down. He looked to the other angle. The horrid mark was
there also. They could not see him from the beach. Easily he parted the
crackling palm leaves, and thrust in his head. At a few feet distance rose
the lofty stern-post, carved and painted, with two broad shells glistening
like eyes in the twilight. No more could he see, dazzled by the glare
outside. That passed. He turned to the right hand-and drew back with a
cry. A naked corpse, with head hanging on its chest, was bound to the
corner post--the same to left.

Poor Micholitz felt sick. He ran from the cursed spot. So glowing was the
sunlight round, so sweet and soft the shadow of the near forest--and those
awful things in the midst! The old hymn rang in his ears--

     Where every prospect pleases
     And only man is vile.

He hurried towards the trees.

An outburst of yells and laughter made him turn. The circle had broken
up. A swarm of warriors danced towards the boat-house--tore down the
walls; in an instant the posts stood naked--with their burdens. Chiefs
climbed aboard the prau and mustered, with tossing feathers, brandishing
their arms, shouting and singing, on its deck. Ropes were manned. Scores
of brawny savages started at a run, whilst the boys howled with delight
and tumbled over one another. The great vessel moved, quickened. Then a
party rushed upon that little group, trampling it under foot, snatched up
the boy and girl, and sped with them towards the sea. The old man and
women lay where they were tossed: there was no help for them in earth or
heaven. The prau glided quicker and quicker amidst a roaring tumult. As it
neared the sea, those small victims, tossed aloft from either side, fell
across its course. Micholitz looked no more.

'Let me attend to my business, for God's sake!' he kept repeating.

But when he reached the trees his business was done. Those horrors had so
disconcerted him that for an instant he saw long green stems of orchid
perched upon the boughs without regarding them. But here was one from the
top of which depended a cluster of rosy garlands, four or five, bearing a
dozen, or twenty, or thirty great flowers, all open; and there a cluster
snow-white--a crimson one beyond, darkening almost to purple. Dendrobium
Schröderianum was rediscovered!

Of Mitcholitz's emotion it is enough to tell that it drove all else from
his mind, or almost. When the interpreter summoned him he sat down and
hobnobbed with those murderers and ate their dubious viands. The triumph
was startling, so speedy and complete; but so much the heavier were his
responsibilities. When, with a chilling shock, he recalled distinctly the
dread spectacle, he said again:

'Let me attend to my business! _I_ can't help it!'

All went well. So soon as the chiefs understood that this eccentric white
man fancied their weeds, they joyously offered them--at a price. The time
of year was excellent--early in the dry season. Next day Micholitz
returned aboard and the Captain brought his ship round to the bay. But he
would not listen to the story. 'I told you they was rum chaps, didn't I?
Well, you see I told you true.' In three days, so plentiful was the
supply, Micholitz had gathered as many as he thought judicious, and heaped
them on deck. They could be dried while the vessel was waiting for cargo
elsewhere, and he longed to get away from that ill-omened spot.

Still luck attended him. The Captain 'filled up' quickly, and sailed, as
by agreement, for a Dutch port, where the orchids would be shipped for
England. He arrived in the evening, the ship lay alongside the wharf; next
day his precious cases would be transferred to the steamer. In great
content Micholitz went to sleep; so did everybody else, the watch
included. Towards morning the harbour police raised a cry of 'Fire!' It
must have been smouldering for hours. Not a plant could poor Micholitz
save!

On arrival, he had telegraphed his success, and joy reigned at St. Albans
all day. Foresight and enterprise were justly rewarded for once. What a
coup--what a sensation! Let us not speculate upon the language used when a
second dispatch came in the morning.

'Ship burnt! What do?--Micholitz.'

The reply was emphatic: 'Go back--Sander.'

'Too late--rainy season.'

'Go back!'

And Micholitz went. His protest, had he insisted upon it, was
unanswerable. Hard enough it would be to return among those anti-human
wretches when the delights of home had been so near. But there was no
chance of regaining the bay--a vessel might not sail thither for months or
years. The work must be begun again--the search renewed. And in the rainy
season, too!

But the good fellow did not even hesitate. Forthwith he inquired for a
ship trading with the island. There was none, and he had no time to wait,
for the rain grew heavier daily. A mail steamer was leaving for the
nearest settlement. Trusting to the 'courtesy of nations,' Micholitz
claimed a passage as a shipwrecked man. It was flatly refused, but at
length the Dutch officials yielded to his indignant appeal so far as to
make a deduction of 30 per cent. 'Well,' he wrote to St. Albans, 'there is
no doubt these are the meanest people on earth.' The Captain of the _Costa
Rica_ whaling ship agrees with him.

I have no space for the adventures of this second journey now. The
Dendrobe was found once more, which is not at all surprising when its
habitat had been discovered. At this spot, however, it was growing, not on
trees, but on rocks of limestone--most epiphytal orchids love to cling on
that rough and porous surface. Especially was it abundant in the graveyard
of the clan, a stony waste where for generations they had left their
dead--not unmourned, perhaps--beneath the sky. The plants grew and
flowered among bones innumerable. To suggest the removal of them under
such circumstances was a nervous duty. But in the graveyard they were not
only most plentiful, but by far most vigorous. It had to be done, and with
all precautions, after displaying a sample of his 'trade,' looking-glasses
and knives and beads, and so forth, Micholitz did it.

A clamour of indignation broke out. It was swelling into passion when he
produced a roll of brass wire; at that spectacle it suddenly calmed down.
After debate among themselves the warriors stipulated that two of their
most sacred idols should travel with the plants, and be treated with all
honour on the way. They would not assist in collecting, but after the
distribution of brass wire they helped to pack the cases.

Thus it happened that one of the Dendrobes sold at 'Protheroe's' on
October 16, 1891, was attached to a human skull. As for the idols, they
were bought by the Hon. Walter Rothschild, and we are free to hope that
they are treated with reverence, as per agreement.




STORY OF DENDROBIUM LOWII


The authorities assert that Dendrobium Lowii was introduced to Europe by
Sir Hugh Low in 1861. My friend has so many titles to honour, in this and
other forms of public service, that he will not feel the loss of one. The
statement is not absolutely correct. An unnamed species, which must have
been Dendrobium Lowii, flowered in the collection of Mr. H. Vicars, at
Heath House, near Chelmsford, in 1845. I do not propose to describe the
plant whereby hangs my tale; suffice it that this is a pale yellow
Dendrobe, peculiarly charming, very delicate, and still rare. We do not
hear of Mr. Vicars' specimen again. He obtained it, with others, from
Fraser, Cumming, and Co., of Singapore, probably in 1842. It was brought
to them from Borneo by Captain Baker, commanding the ship _Orient
Pioneer_.

When lying at Singapore Captain Baker heard of the coal seams just
discovered at Kiangi, on the Brunei river, which made such a stir in the
City a few months afterwards. It seemed to him that his owners would like
a report upon them. And he sailed thither.

I picture the man as big and rough--fat he was certainly; one of those
sailors, careful enough aboard ship, who think it necessary to take a
'drop' at every halt when making holiday.

Pirates were no tradition in that era. They swarmed among the islands, and
the younger chiefs were not proof against temptation when they fell in
with an European ship that seemed to be in difficulties. Doubtless Captain
Baker kept all his wits about him on a perilous voyage beyond the track of
commerce then. But he reached the Bay of Brunei safely, ascended the river
in a well-armed boat, and visited the coalfields at Kiangi. A few Chinamen
were working there. Baker had shrewdness enough to see that immense
capital would be required, that the Sultan would give endless trouble, and
that the coal, when won, might prove to be dubious in quality. We may
hope, therefore, that his owners kept out of the 'rush' which followed,
and were duly grateful.

His business was finished. Messrs. Fraser and Cumming, indeed, had asked
him to collect a few of the 'air-plants' which began to make such a stir
in England, but that would not detain him. They grew so thick on every
tree that a boatload could be gathered in dropping down the river. He had
instructions to choose those upon the highest branches, where, as was
thought, the best species are found; but it made no difference, for a
sailor could walk up those trees hung with creepers as easily as up the
shrouds! So Captain Baker looked out for a place to land among the
mangroves, expecting to fulfil his commission in an hour at most. A place
was found presently, the boat turned to shore, and he directed a couple of
sailors to climb. They were more than willing, under a promise of grog. I
may venture to drop the abstract form of narrative here, and put the
breath of life into it.

Baker had engaged a Malay as interpreter for the voyage; by good luck he
was a native of Brunei. This man stared and laughed a little to himself on
hearing the order. As the sailors began to mount, he said:

'Tuan Cap'n! Say 'm fellows looky sharp on snakes.'

The men paused suddenly, looking down, but Baker swore very loud and very
often to the effect that he'd eat every snake within miles, and that
Tuzzadeen was the son of a sea-cook. So the climbers went up, but
gingerly. Tuzzadeen sat grinning. They had not mounted high, luckily, for
on a sudden one gave a screech, and both crashed down, the second dropping
in sheer fright. But he who uttered that yell had good cause for it,
evidently. He danced and twisted, threw himself down and bounded to his
feet, roaring with pain. His eyes showed the white in a circle all round,
and his brows, strained upward, almost touched the hair. All leapt out,
splashing through the shallow water, pale with alarm--seized their
writhing comrade, and stripped him. Tuzzadeen examined his body; presently
the convulsions grew fainter, and he struggled in a more intelligent sort
of way, though still roaring.

'Him bit by fire-ant, I say, Tuan Cap'n,' observed Tuzzadeen.

'Well! Here's a blasphemous fuss about an unmentionable little ant! D'you
call yourself a gore-stained British seaman, Forster? Just let's hear you
do it, you unfit-for-repetition lubber, so as we may have a right-down
blank laugh.'

Forster collected his wits and answered earnestly, 'It was an ant maybe.
But I tell you, Cap'n Baker, there ain't no difference betwixt that ant
and a red-hot iron devil. Oh law! I'll be good from this day. I know how
the bad uns fare now.'

'That's a blessed resolution anyhow,' said Baker. 'But it didn't last
above a minute, you see. Come, show yourself a man, and shin up them
shrouds again.'

'No, Cap'n Baker,' he answered slowly and impressively, 'not if you was to
put the Queen's crown on top of the tree and fix a keg of rum half-way
up.'

Then they found that the other man had hurt himself badly in falling.
Baker was stubborn. But promises and taunts failed to move one of them,
and he was too fat to climb himself.

'Confound it, Tuz,' said he discontentedly, as they pulled into the
stream. 'Other men have got these things. How did they do it?'

'Them get Dyaks--naked chaps what see ants and snakes.'

'Oh! And can I get Dyaks?'

'You pay, Tuan Cap'n, I find plenty naked chaps.'

In the evening all was settled. Tuzzadeen knew the chief of a Sibuyou Dyak
village on a hill just above the bay; they would scarcely lose sight of
the ship. No preparations were necessary. He himself would go ahead when
they approached a village, and the Dyaks would be pleased to see them.

At dawn next day Baker started, with Tuzzadeen and four armed sailors.
They crossed the broad white beach, studded with big rocks, moss-grown,
weather-stained, clothed with creep

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