January 1, 1867. ] 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTUBB AND COTTAGE GABDENEK. 



reason why it should not suit that of othei- localities, and I 

 would recommend gardeners to grow it, and prove it tor them- 

 selves. — J. Eastwood, Gardener to E. Xatlian, Esq., DUhbury. 



OUR VINES. 



" Cue Vines," as we always call them, though they helong 

 to Cousin Herbert. He lives near to us, just over the wall — an 

 ugly red brick wall, built by a neighbour who did not like us. 

 Well, these Vines had been thought and talked about for years. 

 Great piles of sods had been laid together in heaps until they 

 crumbled into soft mould from very old age. Every known 

 preparation had been made for them, everything done for them 

 that could be heard of or read about in books, from Mcintosh 

 and Thompson down to the last weekly and monthly magazine. 

 Great thought, and talk, and curiosity, gathered about this 

 was-to-be new vinery, some saying one thing, some another, 

 all the household seeming to have a right to argue and dispute, 

 as if Cousin Herbert had not long since come of age. Uncle 

 Tetley said, " It was a very foolish idea, would not pay cost 

 for the land covered, only cause their highly-rated house to be 

 rated higher still ;" and Aunt Margaret said, she " was sure 

 they were not rich enough to have such a place, and that every 

 mouthfol would cost a shilUng, if, indeed, we ever managed to 

 grow any." But yet the work went on, foundations were dug, 

 books pored over, fresh soil laid up in heaps for fear there 

 should not be enough, scrapings from the roadside, sods from 

 a field and a neighbouring common — wherever a bit of grass 

 grew that could be spared it was doomed to the great heap under 

 the wall. How often this heap was contemplated I cannot tell, 

 but it appeared ever to give satisfaction to the inspector. Now 

 it did crumble into pieces just like the dust soil found under 

 old evergreens. It had rested idly under that west wall for 

 five years, and when turned about had a rich moist look, for 

 every bit of grass and fibre had rotted away. Then came cart- 

 loads of manure. This, too, was put down under the west 

 wall ; a west wind filled the house with its odour. Cook said she 

 had " no need to season her dishes, it was done for her." Next 

 came bags and bags of bone dust. Our wondering neighbours 

 asked if we were going to open our stately mansion for a flour 

 depot. Then came loads of leaf mould black as coal. " Grand 

 stuff this," said the man who brought it, " fifteen year old if 

 it's a day, worth its weight." Nest came lime rubbish. Cousin 

 Herbert had had some trouble to obtain it. It was the plaster, 

 and dust, and bits of lime from old bricks, and the pulling 

 down of a bank just furnished the opportunity of obtaining it. 

 This lime rubbish was put down alongside of the leaf mould, 

 and a gentle breeze blowing put a thin coating of it over 

 everything, as if the first snowstorm had come. Then all the 

 woollen rags we could find were put together, old coats, waist- 

 coats, and such like torn into shreds, or cut into small pieces 

 and laid by the side of some crushed bones, the last arrival. 

 So all the heaps were side by side under the wall, fibry loam, 

 leaf mould, manure, crushed bones, lime rubbish, woollen rags, 

 and bone dust — mounds of such strange size and appearance, 

 I think poor Boffin would have been distracted. 



During this time the fair structure was reared, space and 

 capabilities for eleven Vines. Then the Vine-bed or border 

 was made, dear me ! with what minute care. A little soil 

 mixed with the crushed bones forming the lowest deposit. 

 " This is the solid food not yet proper for the infant Vines," 

 said Cousin Herbert, as we stood watching. " They will have 

 arrived at an adult age before they reach the ale and beef 

 cellar, for you see they have to grow down as well as up." Then 

 all the mounds were carried away bit by bit ; even the woollen 

 rags disappeared ; layer after layer, first of one sort, then of 

 another, till the border inside and out would hold no more. 



What work there was about this border, to be sure ; no one 

 must dig in it, or tread upon it, or plant plants in it, or sow 

 seeds in it. Cousin Herbert was so very particular he watched 

 it night and day. I often wonder he allowed the weeds to grow. 

 Then we had so much trouble, for Aunt Margaret would walk 

 across it coming to our house, because she said it was nearer, 

 though it only saved 3 yards ; and Cousin Janet would in spite 

 oi all we could do or say, sow her Mustard seed in it. Poor 

 thing ! she never knew how often we pulled the seed up before 

 it grew. I think the deposits must have been put in too 

 lightly, or some father mole had chosen the site for the mani- 

 polation of a new home, for little hollows or sinkings we could 

 not account for were constantly appearing. Uncle would have 

 it somebody's hens came there to scratch ; and yet they could 



not, for the holes were no larger than sparrows make in any bit 

 of gardening done up with great care, and the more care taken 

 with it the more they go there to bathe or roll themselves. 



After this there came the eagerly discussed question. Where 

 were the Vines to be purchased ? " Oh, " said papa, " I would 

 not go to any of those men with their long puffing advertise- 

 ments, it is all show and no good." 



" No," said Uncle Tetley, " I would go to some quiet un- 

 heard-of experienced gardener." 



"Yes, and then if they all turn out rotten you will get no 

 recompense," said Cousin Herbert, looking down tenderly upon 

 his new Vine-border ; and well he might, for it was nearly all 

 his own hard work. 



" I would not go to a young man anyhow," said papa, '• for 

 he will think he knows everything, and yet if you go to an old 

 one they will say he knows nothing." 



" I am not sure all the Vines in the world are worth this," 

 said Cousin Walter, rubbing the blisters inside his soft white 

 hands. He had spent his Saturday's half-holiday helping his 

 brother, and was not used to a spade and barrow. " I would 

 go somewhere for them, where I could purchase them old 

 enough to bear next year. There is no good in waiting until 

 yon are too old to enjoy them." 



At last the decision was made, a nursei^man of high stand- 

 ing was chosen, the choice of the Vines left to his better and 

 more practical judgment. A man was sent over with them to 

 plant them, the vinery and border having been previously 

 examined and declared almost perfect in their arrangements 

 and ingredients. There were one Lady Downe's for the centre, 

 six Black Hamburghs, two Muscat Hambiu'ghs, and two 

 Eeeves' Muscadine. 



It was an October afternoon, a clear white sky with crimson 

 bars, a cold wind going up and down making hard hnes and 

 crosses in every pond and gutter, and crisping up the noisy 

 autumn leaves. The sun shone into the new vinery for a few 

 minutes, lighting up the empty space and touching the pale, 

 thin, unpromising-looking canes, the return for so many 

 pounds. 



" You wiU not need to put a fire in here yet for the sake of 

 the Vines," said the gardener who planted them, "but you 

 must keep out the frost, or it will spoil your plants." 



I will tell you about these plants some day if all is well. 



" A fire, indeed !" said Aunt Margaret, " it will take a barrow- 

 load to fill that big grate ; we cannot afford it, and coals rising 

 every week. I think Herbert has gone clean out of his mind." 



So at last we had our vinery, at which people laughed, and 

 predicted doleful things. An amateur's Vines succeed, indeed ! 

 They needed a professional gardener to make them do that, and 

 even then they did not always, and at Uncle Tetley's they kept 

 no regular gardener, only a man once a-week or so to tidy up. 

 " To think that a gentleman with a fine education should come 

 down to wearing an old coat out at the elbows, and to dig, and 

 mix up, and barrow, and tear, and work Uke a common man, all 

 for the sake of growing Grapes better than his next door neigh- 

 bour, was ridiculous," So said the gardeners about . 



"I wish the Vines were at Jericho," said Cousin Janet snap- 

 pishly, or growing stUl in that Bradford nursery, for you can 

 talk about nothing else." 



" I wish he had never built it," said Cousin Kate, " for I am 

 afi'aid it will lead to nothing but trouble, and work, and cost, 

 and dirt. Only this morning Herbert said, ' Now you girls 

 must look after that place to see all goes right.' No, it will 

 lead to nothing but bother, and dissension, and failure, utter 

 failure ; and instead of growing such Grapes as were never 

 grown before, we shall be laughed at by the whole country side." 

 Nor was this all ; the servants complained, called the vinery " a 

 nuisance." The one-day-a-week man refused to clean up about 

 the boiler ; as a great favour he would make the fire ; but theii 

 the very best fires will not keep in for a week, and what was to 

 be done then '? An old man in the village was hired to do what 

 others would not ; but he was very expensive, and very trouble- 

 some ; and cook said, " It was wearisome, for he was always 

 going past her kitchen window either with ashes or clinkers. 

 Sure as ever it was windy down he would go and scrape in'.O 

 his basket all the ashes he could find," and these ashes blew in 

 at the windows, and under the doors, and filled every place and 

 every thing, even the ovenwas not safe. Poor cook declared 

 " she could not go anywhere, open a cupboard or drawer, with- 

 out meeting with ashes. It was a very Pharaoh's plague." The 

 housemaid said, " Sure as ever Saturday afternoon came, and 

 the yard was scoured out, and no Uttle doing it took, and all 

 cleaned up, then they would bring either coals, or cinders, or 



