A correspondent sends us the following clipping from the _Westminster
Gazette_. We are unable to vouch for its accuracy, but as it may give
some cultivator a hint we reprint it in full.
In a beautiful garden at Crouch End, belonging to one of the few old
world bowers which have withstood the tempting offers of the building
speculator, may be seen one of the queerest freaks that Nature has ever
played in park or garden. About three years ago a long row of glass
ginger bottles were placed neck downward in the ground, with a few
inches of the other end projecting to form a border for the kitchen
garden paths. Each of these bottles now contains a fairy-like resident
in the shape of a dainty little fern, perfect in form and color, and of
many varieties, the ribbon fern and hart's-tongue predominating. As no
ferns had at any time been planted in that part of the garden it is
amazing how they got there. Perhaps Nature thought it foolish to waste
so many little natural hothouses, and put in each a pinch of the stuff
she makes ferns of. If so, she must view with much pride the result of
her experiment.
Miss Angie M. Ryon, Niantic, Conn., reports finding fine plants of
_Ophioglossum vulgatum_ upon a very rocky hillside, the roots crowding
themselves between the bits of rock that had been broken up by loads of
heavy timber passing over them the previous year. The plants were
exposed to the full rays of the sun for most of the day.