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.