The Woodlands orchids, described and illustrated

by Frederick Boyle

LYCASTES, SOBRALIAS, AND ANGOULOAS

occupy different compartments in one house. The first will not detain us. All the species which orchidists, in a lordly way, term common are represented here—of course, by their best varieties. I can fancy the wonder and delight of a stranger entering when the Lycastes Skinneri alba and virginalis are in bloom, remembering my own emotion at the spectacle elsewhere. Not many of the genus appeal to the aesthetic, and Skinneri in especial lacks grace. But unsymmetrical form and abrupt rigidity of growth are forgotten when those great flowers, so pure, so divinely white, burst upon the eye. Charming also are the pale varieties of Skinneri, such as Lady Roberts, a dainty rose, the petals only just dark enough to show up the labellum almost white; and Phyllis of somewhat deeper rose. Its velvety lip has a crimson margin well displayed by a small white patch upon the disc.

Leucantha, dainty green with white petals, is charming; a pan of aromatica with fifty or sixty delicate golden blooms makes a pretty show. But these things do not call for special notice.

There are varieties, however, of course, as the famous Lycaste plana Measuresiana, coppery, shining, with pure white petals, crimson spotted, and small white lip; plana lassioglossa, olive green of sepal and petal, with a bright rusty stain at the base; lip white, with conspicuous white spots.

Fulvescens.—Large and spreading. Sepals and petals reddish orange, lip clear brightest orange, so lightly poised that it quivers at a breath. It has as many as forty flowers from one bulb sometimes.

Denningiana.—Very large. Sepals and petals whitish green, lip brown.

Mooreana.—An extraordinary variety of L. Locusta, which itself is extraordinary enough. Reichenbach described Locusta in his lively way: ‘Green sepals, green petals, green lip, green callus, green ovary, green bract, green sheath, green peduncle, green bulbs, green leaves—just as green as a green grasshopper or the dress of some Viennese ladies.’ Mooreana is larger, and the heavy fringe of the lip has a faint yellow shade.

Sobralias

It may be granted that all classes of orchid are not equally beautiful, but to compare one with another in this point of view is futile. Each has its own charm which individual taste may prefer, and to set Cattleyas, for instance, above Odontoglots is only to demonstrate that for some persons size and brilliancy of hue are more attractive than grace and purity. But in any competition of the sort Sobralias must rank high. They are all large, they have every fascination which colour can give, and the delicate crumpling of the lip, characteristic of this genus alone, is one of Nature’s subtlest devices. Gardeners also approve them, for they need less attention perhaps than any others, and they grow fast. The sagacious reader will begin to ask by this time what are the disadvantages to set against all these merits? There is only one, but for too many amateurs it is fatal—the glorious flowers last scarcely two days. Certainly a spike will carry four or five, or even six, which open one after another. But then all is over till next year. And the plants are big, occupying much room. Therefore Sobralias are not favoured by the wise, when space is limited.

[Larger Image]

LYCASTE SKINNERI var. R. H. MEASURES.
Painted from nature also		Chromo by Macfarlane F.R.H.S.
	Printed in London

All are American, growing among the rocks and in the scanty soil of mountain districts. One reads of species so tall that a man on horseback must raise his arm to pick the flowers. This may be an exaggeration, but we have Sobralia macrantha gigas here six feet high, and Hookerae even topping it. Upon the other hand, that marvel, Kienastiana, has a very modest stature. Nearly all the species known are here—it is not a large genus: Lindeni, Hookerae, Lowii, macrantha and macrantha alba, xantholeuca, and Kienastiana, which has its story.

Measuresiana is uncommon; white, an immense flower. The vast lip, circular, daintily crumpled, is palest pink, with a deep yellow throat, round which the pink darkens to pale crimson. Sanderae also is white, faintly tinged with yellow.

In these days, however, it is the hybrids which interest us, and there are two of surpassing merit.

Amesiana (xantholeuca × Wilsonii).—Palest rosy lilac, somewhat more rosy in the centre—the crumpled pink lip is as round and as big as a crown piece. The cavity of the throat, orange, changes to gamboge as it widens; encircling this is a stain of tawny crimson. Lip rose, shaded with reddish brown.

Veitchii (macrantha × xantholeuca).—White, with a pretty orange throat. Round the edges of the lip, deliciously frilled and crumpled, is a broad band of purplish pink.

Here and there in this house, as room can be made, stand many fine plants of Laelia elegans. Beyond is a second compartment devoted to Lycastes and Selenepeds, the name granted, for distinction’s sake, to Transatlantic forms of Cypripedium; in the gardener’s point of view, however, there is no difference between them, and such of these plants as call for notice, in my very narrow space, are described among the Cypripeds.

One rarity, however, I must not overlook—Miltonia Binottii, assumed to be a natural hybrid of M. candida and M. Regnellii; sepals and petals creamy yellow, tinged with lilac at the base and barred with cinnamon brown; lip pale rosy purple.

Anguloas

Nature has thought fit to produce many clumsy plants, and the well-balanced mind raises no objection so long as they remain in their proper place. A pumpkin is not a thing of grace, but then nobody calls on us to admire it. There is little to choose between an Anguloa and a pumpkin in the way of beauty; yet a multitude of people, not less sane to all appearance than their neighbours, invite one to mark and linger over its charms. This always seems very strange to me. I remember a painting of Adam in Paradise, exhibited by an Academician famous in his day—less perhaps for talent than for the popular belief that he wrote certain wailing letters signed ‘A British Matron,’ which the Times published occasionally. Adam was sitting on a flowery bank. The good Academician had all the Asiatic realm of botany before him, wherein to choose blooms appropriate for Paradise; he spurned them all, crossed the Atlantic, surveyed the treasures of the New World, and from the lovely host selected—Anguloa Clowesii! Upon a bed of these Adam sat—of these alone; nothing else was worthy of a place beside them. Evidently Anguloas have a fascination. But my soul is blind to it. We have all the species here.

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