ant rarely seen is _V. limbata_ from the island
of Timor--dusky yellow, the tip purple, outlined with white, formed
like a shovel.

I may cite a personal reminiscence here, in the hope that some reader
may be able to supply what is wanting. In years so far back that they
seem to belong to a "previous existence," I travelled in Borneo, and
paid a visit to the antimony-mines of Bidi. The manager, Mr. Bentley,
showed me a grand tapong-tree at his door from which he had lately
gathered a "blue orchid,"--we were desperately vague about names in the
jungle at that day, or in England for that matter. In a note published
on my return, I said, "As Mr. Bentley described it, the blossoms hung in
an azure garland from the bough, more gracefully than art could design."
This specimen is, I believe, the only one at present known, and both
Malays and Dyaks are quite ignorant of such a flower! What was this?
There is no question of the facts. Mr. Bentley sent the plant, a large
mass to the chairman of the Company, and it reached home in fair
condition. I saw the warm letter, enclosing cheque for 100l., in which
Mr. Templar acknowledged receipt. But further record I have not been
able to discover. One inclines to assume that a blue orchid which puts
forth a "garland" of bloom must be a Vanda. The description might be
applied to _V. coerulea_, but that species is a native of the Khasya
hills; more appropriately, as I recall Mr. Bentley's words, to _V.
coerulescens_, which, however, is Burmese. Furthermore, neither of
these would be looked for on the branch of a great tree. Possibly
someone who reads this may know what became of Mr. Templar's specimen.

Both the species of Renanthera need great heat. Among "facts not
generally known" to orchid-growers, but decidedly interesting for them,
is the commercial habitat, as one may say, of _R. coccinea_. The books
state correctly that it is a native of Cochin China. Orchids coming from
such a distance must needs be withered on arrival. Accordingly, the most
experienced horticulturist who is not up to a little secret feels
assured that all is well when he beholds at the auction-room or at one
of the small dealer's a plant full of sap, with glossy leaves and
unshrivelled roots. It must have been in cultivation for a year at the
very least, and he buys with confidence. Too often, however, a
disastrous change sets in from the very moment his purchase reaches
home. Instead of growing it falls back an