For a long time after 1853, when serious work begun, Messrs. Veitch had a monopoly of the business.  It is but forty years, therefore, since experiments commenced, in which time hundreds of hybrids have been added to our list of flowers; but—­this is my point—­Nature has been busy at the same task for unknown ages, and who can measure the fruits of her industry?  I do not offer the remark as an argument; our observations are too few as yet.  It may well be urged that if Nature had been thus active, the “natural hybrids” which can be recognized would be much more numerous than they are.  I have pointed out that many of the largest genera show very few; many none at all.  But is it impossible that the explanation appears to fail only because we cannot yet push it far enough?  When the hybridizer causes by force a fruitful union betwixt two genera, he seems to triumph over a botanical law.  But suppose the genera themselves are artificial, only links in a grand chain which Nature has forged slowly, patiently, with many a break and many a failure, in the course of ages?  She would finish her work bit by bit, and at every stage the new variety may have united with others in endless succession.  Few natural hybrids can be identified among Cattleyas, for instance.  But suppose Cattleyas are all hybrids, the result of promiscuous intercourse among genera during cycles of time—­suppose, that is, the genus itself sprang from parents widely diverse, crossing, returning, intercrossing from age to age?  It is admitted that Cypripedium represents a primeval form—­perhaps the primeval form—­of orchid.  Suppose that we behold, in this nineteenth century, a mere epoch, or stage, in the ceaseless evolution?  Only an irresponsible amateur could dare talk in this way.  It would, in truth, be very futile speculation if experiments already successful did not offer a chance of proof one day, and others, hourly ripening, did not summon us to think.

I may cite, with the utmost brevity, two or three facts which—­to me unscientific—­appear inexplicable, unless species of orchid were developed on the spot; or the theory of special local creations be admitted. Oncidium cucullatum flourishes in certain limited areas of Peru, of Ecuador, of Colombia, and of Venezuela.  It is not found in the enormous spaces between, nor are any Oncidiums which might be accepted as its immediate parents.  Can we suppose that the winds or the birds carried it over mountain ranges and broad rivers more than two thousand miles, in four several directions, to establish it upon a narrow tract?  It is a question of faith; but, for my own part, I could as soon believe that aesthetic emigrants took it with them.  But even winds and birds could not bear the seed of Dendrobium heterocarpum from Ceylon to Burmah, and from Burmah to Luzon in the Philippines; at least, I am utterly unable to credit it.  If the plants were identical, or nearly, in their different habitats, this case would be less significant.  But the D. heterocarpum of Ceylon has a long, thin pseudo-bulb, with bright yellow flowers; that of Burmah is short and thick, with paler colouring; that of Luzon is no less than three feet high, exaggerating the stature of its most distant relative while showing the colour of its nearest; but all, absolutely, the same botanic plant.  I have already mentioned other cases.