SEASIDE botanists are well acquainted with the curious spiny leaves of the sea-holly, which attract no less by their glaucous colour than their challenge of war. When in flower the plant has a fine, daring sort of beauty, and may remind one of the story of the thistle that the invading Dane trod upon, when, by reason of his cry of pain, the plant was promoted to the banner of Scotland. This seaholly might be called a thistle, but, as a matter of fact, it is, an umbelliferous plant, where as the thistle is a true composite. The alliance of the eryngo is with the hemlocks, that of the thistle with the asters: and so an eryngo is not a thistle, but agrees in the circumstance of being armed for defence against all ordinary foes.

All the eryngos, our own seaside friend in particular, may be turned to account by drying them for winter decorations, their tough texture and very distinctive forms favouring this use of them. Whether the roots of the garden eryngos are of any economic value we cannot say; but we call to mind that the bitter roots of the British wilding have enjoyed some fame as a valuable tonic, and from the most ancient times have been made into a sweetmeat with the aid of sugar. Once upon a time the town of Colchester presented royalty with a delicate sample of candied sea-holly roots, and the sale of the article thereupon increased greatly, while, as a matter of course, many wonderful cures were effected by the confection.

Eryngium amethystinum is a native of Styria. It has been cultivated in English gardens more than two centuries, yet even now it is scarce, because perhaps it is not showy. In respect of beauty it is certainly unique. The flower heads are not less delightful in their construction than their colour, and the leafage harmonises in a weird sort of way with the amethyst tufts that crown the plant. It is perfectly hardy, and needs no more than the most ordinary care, the best place for it being a sheltered border or a dry ledge of a spacious rockery. This and other species are increased by seeds and divisions, and for the purposes of a private garden the division of a strong plant when commencing growth in spring will be sufficient.

Other species of eryngium that an amateur of such plants will gladly secure should be named here in the interests of this kind of gardening, the adherents to which are sadly few. E. giganteum is a plant of strong growth and very fine proportions, producing heads of purplish blue flowers. It attains a height of from four to five feet, and presents a noble appearance in the border. E. alpinum is a charming miniature. E. spina alba is also a pretty dwarf plant suitable for the rockery.

We shall now mention a few more plants that make no appeal in colour to the casual eye, but are, nevertheless, most desirable garden plants where there is space for their accommodation and taste for their eccentricities. Foremost in the category we should place the gigantic Eryngium pandanifolium as the type of a group of which the amateur does not require many examples. This plant stands far apart from the pretty subject figured; it has a singular body of leafage, slightly twisted in the way of a screw pine, and a quite unattractive head of flowers. Similarly noble is the large-leaved Senecio Japonicus, which grows to a height of five feet, and finishes its career by a display of orange-coloured flowers that are decidedly coarse, but also decidedly magnificent. Polygonum cuspidatum is another of the giants, requiring plenty of room, and being quite unfit for a place in any ordinary rockery. It is a glorious plant, but requires for its full development about as much space as a proper four-roomed cottage. Elymus glaucifolius is a cheap hardy grass with glistering blue leaves that will thrive on any heap of dry sand or stone. It is too coarse for the rockery, but a broad-minded amateur may be happy with it for an outdoor companion. Ferula tingitana is the giant fennel, a most interesting and proper rockery or border plant, loving moisture and warmth.

Its rich green colour is very different to the curious colours we have had before us in this chapter. Finally, Phormium tenax, the New Zealand flax, demands a place in the garden of every true amateur, and, strange to say, the beautiful variegated-leaved variety is more hardy than the green-leaved. It will grow anywhere, but needs a good place to display its beauty.

When eryngos flower, autumn has come, and Nature prepares to strew with leaves the pathway on which Winter will steal with noiseless tread upon us. Hartley Coleridge caught the idea, and thus he sang of it:--

"The mellow year is hastening to its close;

The little birds have almost sung their last,

Their small notes twitter in the dreary blast--

That shrill-piped harbinger of early snows;

The patient beauty of the scentless rose,

Oft with the morn's hoar crystal quaintly glassed,

Hangs, a pale mourner for the summer past,

And makes a little summer where it grows;

In the chill sunbeam of the faint brief day

The dusky waters shudder as they shine,

The russet leaves obstruct the straggling way

Of oozy brooks, which no deep banks define,

And the gaunt woods, in ragged, scant array,