There is but little reason in the naming of any plant nowadays, and the foolish and unscientific methods of naming plants after some person who has discovered, or described, or who has often done nothing more than bought a specimen of the plant, is unfortunately very rife. Scientists have tried and are still trying to put down this absurd nomenclature, but they are thwarted in every way by gardeners and others. Mr. Jones, Nurseryman, has just flowered a lily. He does not know its name. What does he do? Does he trouble to find out if the plant is known to science? Not he! He labels it _Lilium Jonesii_. Mrs. Smith, a very aristocratic lady and a great patron of Mr. Jones, comes along, sees, admires and buys that lily. She asks Mr. Jones to send her the plant, and it arrives labelled, “_Lilium Jonesii var. Smithii_.” So much for gardeners’ floral nomenclature! Can anyone tell us who is the Mr. Brown after whom _L. Brownii_ is named? As far as we can find out that gentleman is quite unknown to science. Perhaps some wag might suggest that the name originated through ignorance. The man who discovered the lily—or rather who thought he had discovered it, for the plant has been cultivated in Japan for centuries—perceiving that the colour brown was very characteristic of the flower, wanted to name the lily with a Latinised version of “The Brown Lily,” but his classical education, having been somewhat neglected, he knew not the Latin for brown, so he named the plant _Lilium Brownii_ or _Browni_ to cloak his ignorance. As no one is certain of the origin of the name _Brownii_, so no one knows the original habitat of this species. All our specimens come from Japan, but it is very doubtful whether it is a native of that land. Have you ever seen a clump of _L. Brownii_ in flower? Last July there was a bed of this lily at Kew in full blossom, and as the weather had been remarkably suitable to the plant, and its blossoms had not been injured by rain, the sight of that bed was one of the loveliest sights we can remember. This lily has lately become more popular than formerly, but it is very far from enjoying that universal admiration which it amply deserves. One reason for its comparative scarcity is its tendency to degenerate, a tendency which we strongly suspect is due to improper culture. It is usually stated that this lily should be grown in very light sandy soil. We have grown it in such a soil and also in a strong, well-manured, peaty loam—a soil as different from a light sandy soil as can be well imagined. Those lilies grown in the light soil became diseased and died without flowering. Those in the heavy soil grew strong and very tall, never showed any trace of disease, and each spike produced two perfect blossoms.