EXAMPLE FROM THE FORGET–ME–NOT FAMILY.
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I will now endeavour to illustrate my meaning by showing what may be done with one type of northern vegetation— that of the Forget–me–not order, one far from being as rich as others in subjects suited for the wild garden. Through considering its capabilities in this way, the reader may be able to form some idea of what we may do by selecting from the numerous plants that grow in the meadows and mountain–woods of Europe, Asia, and America.

The Forget–me–not or Borage family is a well–marked and well–known one, containing a great number of coarse weeds, but which, if it possessed only the common Forget–me–not, would have some claims on us. Many persons are not acquainted with more than the Forget–me–nots; but what lovely exotic plants there are in this order that would afford delight if met with creeping about along our wood and shrubbery walks! Nature, say some, is sparing of her deep true blues; but there are obscure plants in this order that possess the truest, deepest, and most delicate of blues, and which will thrive as well in the wild garden as common weeds. The creeping Omphalodes verna even surpasses the Forget–me–not in the depth and beauty of its blue and its other good qualities, and runs about quite freely in any shady or half–shady shrubbery or open wood, or even in turf in moist soil not very frequently mown. Its proper home is the wood or semi–wild spot, where it takes care of itself. Put it in a garden, and probably, unless the soil and region be moist, it soon perishes. Besides, in the border, it would be a not very agreeable object when once the sweet spring bloom had passed; whereas, in the positions spoken of, in consequence of the predominance of trees, shrubs, and tall herbs, the low plants are not noticed when out of flower, but crawl about unobserved till returning spring reminds those fortunate enough to see them how superior is the inexpensive and natural kind of gardening here advocated.

Another plant of the order is so suitable and useful for this purpose, that if a root or two of it be planted in any shrubbery, it will soon run about, exterminate the weeds, and prove quite a lesson in wild gardening. I allude to the Caucasian Comfrey (Symphytum caucasicum), which grows about twenty inches high, and bears quantities of the loveliest blue pendulous flowers. It, like many others, does much better in a wood, grove, or any kind of shrubbery, than in any other position, filling in the naked spaces between the trees and shrubs, and has a quick–growing and spreading tendency, but never becomes weedy or objectionable. As if to contrast with it, there is the deep crimson Bohemian Comfrey (S. bohemicum), which is sometimes startling from the depth of its vivid colouring; and the white Comfrey (S. orientale), quite a vigorous–growing kind, blooming early in April and May, with the blue Caucasian C.

These Comfreys, indeed, are admirable plants for rough places—the tall and vigorous ones thriving in a ditch or any similar place, and flowering much better and longer than they ever did in the garden proper, in prim borders. There are about twenty species, mostly from Southern and Central Europe, Asia, and Siberia.

I purposely omit the British Forget–me–nots, wishing now chiefly to show what we may do with exotics quite as hardy as our own wildlings; and we have another Forget–me–not, not British, which surpasses them all—the early Myosotis dissitiflora. This is like a patch of the bluest sky settled down among the moist stones of a rockwork or any similar spot, before our own Forget–me–not has opened its blue eyes, and is admirable for blades or banks in wood or shrubbery, especially in moist districts.

For rocky bare places and sunny sandy banks we have the spreading Gromwell (Lithospermum prostratum), which, when in flower, looks just as if some exquisite alpine Gentian had assumed the form of a low bush, to enable it to hold its own among creeping things and stouter herbs than accompany it on the Alps. The Gromwells are a large and important genus but little known in gardens, some of them, like our native kind, being handsome plants.

Among the fairest plants we have are the Lungworts, Pulmonaria, too seldom seen, and partly destroyed through exposure on bare dug and often dry border. The old Pulmonaria (Mertensia virginica) is one of the loveliest spring flowers ever introduced. It is very rare in gardens, but if placed in a moist place near a stream, or in a peat bottom, it will live; whereas it frequently dies in a garden. The newer and more easily grown Mertensia sibirica is a lovely plant, taller and flowering longer. These two plants alone would repay any one for a trial of the wild garden, and will illustrate the fact that for the sake of culture alone (apart from art, beauty, or arrangement) the wild–garden idea is worth carrying out.

Among the many plants suitable for the wild garden none look more at home than Borage, a few seeds of which scattered over fresh dry ground soon germinate, and form fine patches that will flower during the summer. Although only an annual, once it is introduced there is no fear of losing it, as it comes up somewhere near the same spot each succeeding year, and when in bloom the peculiar Solanum–like shape of the blossoms, and their rich blue colour, make it beautiful.

The Cretan Borage is a curious old perennial, seldom seen in gardens; and deservedly so, for its growth is robust and its habit coarse. It is, however, a capital plant for the wild garden, or for rough places—in copse, or shrubbery, or lane, where the ample room which it requires would not be begrudged, and where it may take care of itself from year to year, showing among the boldest and the hardiest of the early spring flowers.

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Thus, though I say little of the Alkanet (Anchusa) tribe, several of which could be found worth a place with our own handsome Evergreen Alkanet, and do not mention other important genera, it will be seen that a whole garden of beauty may be reaped from this tribe alone. Any one who doubts the advantages of carrying out the idea of the wild garden could settle the matter to his satisfaction in a couple of years with these plants alone, in a shrubbery, ditch, lane, copse, or wood, always providing that he takes care to adapt each kind to the position and the soil. For instance, the Giant Comfrey will grow six feet high in rich or moist soil in a partially shaded ditch, and therefore, once fairly started, might be trusted to take care of itself in any position. The Caucasian Comfrey, on the other hand, grows from eighteen inches to two feet high, and is at home in the spaces in a copse or shrubbery. The creeping Forget–me–not (Ompalodes verna) is a little plant that creeps about in grass or among vegetation, not over a span high, or forms a carpet of its own—these points must be considered, and then the rest is gardening of the happiest kind only. These Borageworts, richer in blue flowers than even the gentians, are usually poor rusty things in exposed sunny borders, and also much in the way when out of flower, whereas in shady lanes, copses, open parts of not too dry or impoverished shrubberies, in hedgerow–banks, or ditches, we only notice them in their beautiful bloom.

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