that Baron Schroeder had three pieces; this was a mistake
unfortunately. Mr. Forstermann only secured three, of which two died on
the journey. Baron Schroeder bought the third, but it has perished. No
more can be found as yet.

Of Oncidiums there are many that demand stove treatment. The story of
_Onc. splendidum_ is curious. It first turned up in France some thirty
years ago. A ship's captain sailing from St. Lazare brought half a dozen
pieces, which he gave to his "owner," M. Herman. The latter handed them
to MM. Thibaut and Ketteler, of Sceaux, who split them up and
distributed them. Two of the original plants found their way to England,
and they also appear to have been cut up. A legend of the King Street
Auction Room recalls how perfervid competitors ran up a bit of _Onc.
splendidum_, that had only one leaf, to thirty guineas. The whole stock
vanished presently, which is not surprising if it had all been divided
in the same ruthless manner. From that day the species was lost until
Mr. Sander turned his attention to it. There was no record of its
habitat. The name of the vessel, or even of the captain, might have
furnished a clue had it been recorded, for the shipping intelligence of
the day would have shown what ports he was frequenting about that time.
I could tell of mysterious orchids traced home upon indications less
distinct. But there was absolutely nothing. Mr. Sander, however, had
scrutinized the plant carefully, while specimens were still extant, and
from the structure of the leaf he formed a strong conclusion that it
must belong to the Central American flora; furthermore, that it must
inhabit a very warm locality. In 1882 he directed one of his collectors,
Mr. Oversluys, to look for the precious thing in Costa Rica. Year after
year the search proceeded, until Mr. Oversluys declared with some warmth
that _Onc. splendidum_ might grow in heaven or in the other place, but
it was not to be found in Costa Rica. But theorists are stubborn, and
year after year he was sent back. At length, in 1882, riding through a
district often explored, the collector found himself in a grassy plain,
dotted with pale yellow flowers. He had beheld the same many times, but
his business was orchids. On this occasion, however, he chanced to
approach one of the masses, and recognized the object of his quest. It
was the familiar case of a man who overlooks the thing he has to find,
because it is too near and too conspicuous. But Mr. Ov