496 



CRITIQUE ON THE MARCH HORTICULTURIST. 



fore I resort to it, I shall try the pig and 

 chicken cure, to the last extremity. [In 

 the mean time, those who do will eat the 

 apricots. Ed.] 



The Fredrica Bremer Pear. — A delight- 

 ful name, let the fruit be as it may. Be- 

 fore this is seen in print, Mr. Hastings will 

 be deluged with "orders" for more grafts 

 of the new pear than the tree has twigs 

 upon it. Wait a little, gentlemen. Since 

 the first volume of the Horticulturist has 

 appeared, twenty or thirty " first rate new 

 American pears" have been figured and de- 

 scribed in its pages. And most fortunate it 

 is that we have such a paradise for pear 

 culture this side the Atlantic. Let them all 

 be tried, by those who have a curiosity, and 

 we shall in time find out what are really 

 valuable. Meantime, let us keep to the 

 good old sorts, — those we have wintered 

 and summered, — and not run into every- 

 thing new, for the reason only that it is 

 new, and promises well. When the Bart- 

 let, the Grey and White Virgalieus, and 

 the Seckels, are fairly beat in their flavor, 

 and the Bloodgood, the Stevens' Genesee, 

 the Louise Bonne of Jersey, the Beurre 

 d'Aremberg, and Winter Nelis, in their 

 bearing and popularity, we pomologists will 

 hold another convention, and enact a " New 

 Code of Procedure." 



Floivers for the Million, from Cream 

 Hill. — That is right, for there is a million 

 of them ; the flowers, I mean. Yet, al- 

 though I love the flowers, and want all the 

 millions of people to cultivate and enjoy 

 them, it is not the flowers but the " Cream' 1 '' 

 hill I intend to talk about. Somebody has 

 said, and wrote it, too — who 'tis, no matter 

 now — that man is an imitative animal. 

 To any one conversant with American 

 names of places, there can be no manner of 

 doubt that we are of the genus Imitatii — 

 thorough. Good Mrs. Pkimrose bestowed 



not her romantic name of Olivia upon her 

 darling daughter with more delicious unc- 

 tion, than do our modern country residents 

 impart the new and unfrequent names of 

 "Strawberry," "Cherry," and "Primrose" 

 hills to their own choice paradises. And 

 " Amblesides," and " Sunnysides," and 

 " Inglesides," and all the other sides, which 

 occur in the story books, with a thousand 

 more euphoneous and novelistic names, are 

 scattered in beautiful profusion and ccmfu- 

 sion all over the country. Nor does it be- 

 come me to say that it is not all very well ; 

 but when we contrast these hacknied, lacka- 

 daisacal terms with the strong old Saxon 

 names, which our sturdy English ancestors 

 gave to their country establishments, it 

 really looks as if we were spinning the sub- 

 ject into the finest possible quantity. 



A fashionable friend — gone, alas, poor 

 fellow — once invited me to spend a day or 

 two at his new villa of " Rose-mount." 

 Beautiful, thought I ! amid the odor of a 

 thousand " queens of flowers," and in all 

 their gorgeous array of colour and variety ; 

 how charming ! Away I went, and in the 

 height of the " season of roses," full of de- 

 lightful anticipation. I came to what I was 

 told was the residence of my friend, but 

 could scarcely believe it ; not a •' mount," 

 but a valley, enclosed by gentle hills, a 

 rippling brook fringed with alders between, 

 and a very pretty plain stretching away in 

 the distance, and hardly a "rose," eitheT 

 planted or in bloom, about the grounds. 

 Queer, queer, thought I to myself; and this 

 is "Rose-mount !" Why, if he had called 

 it " Alderbrook," 'twould have been a little 

 like ; and his " roses," by such a name, 

 would have smelled "just as sweet." And 

 so with a thousand others, — -names as be- 

 fitting to their places as the aforesaid Rose- 

 mount. I have known " Hazlewoods," 

 which bore nothing but pine trees and 



