AprU 25, 1867. ] 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTUBE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 



255 



and substance and adjustment of petals, and which seem in 

 their solidity as they could never fade or fall away, is unfit 

 for that nine-feet cottage garden. All through the summer 

 months it thrusts down its thick roots into the soil, greedy as 

 an Ash tree, and waves in triumph its long, blossomed arms to 

 and fro, a very Samson in strength. And yet it stands alone ; 

 the Daisies that used to make a neat border on the side of the 

 pathway have pined away for want of food, the Primroses 

 with their soft gi'een leaves are dried up ; for the Dahlia can 

 spare no moisture, but spreads out its large leaves far and wide, 

 to gather up all it can of the summer shower or the refreshing 

 dew. There is not enough left for even a weed to live upon. 

 The Rose tree growing round the window never attempts to 

 flower until it has reached the thatched roof. It is like that 

 Upas tree, within whose deadly influence, fable tells us, nothing 

 would grow — it is a beautiful giant in a desert country, from 

 which even the pygmies have fled. The dwellers in that little 

 cottage need no sun-blind, for the Dahlia stands outside their 

 narrow-paned window all day long, keeping out sunshine and 

 light, and casting long shadows on their evening meal. It is sadly 

 unfit for its situation. And then, with what dignity it might 

 have worn its honours in some princely domain ! Looked at 

 from a distance, and backed by dark evergreens and old trees, 

 it would have shown off all its beauty — been indeed a splendid 

 object. It somehow reminds one of the Yorkshire labourer 

 going to see his dairymaid sweetheart, and who, wishing to 

 make himself grand, chose a Paaony for his button-hole, think- 

 ing, doubtless, that size and weight were everything with flowers, 

 as he thought they were with pigs and poultry. 



Yes, those large-growing plants have no fitting place in a 

 small garden, whether it be a cottage or villa garden ; they 

 gather to themselves more than is their own, and even then 

 obtain not so much as they need. The proud Hollyhock, grow- 

 ing up like a tree, with its thick branches set all round with 

 Rose-like flowers, growing on and blooming on until cut down 

 by the frosts of winter, is, like its cousin the Dahlia, out of pro- 

 portion in a narrow confined space, and need never be chosen 

 for want of suitable plants of more than equal beauty. 



Hyacinths and Jonquils, beautiful as they are, and largely 

 as they are grown for the purpose, are yet not fitted in all cases 

 for home decorations ; they are well enough in halls, stair- 

 cases, and windows — indeed, in any open airy place. When 

 brought into the warm, enclosed atmosphere of a living-room 

 they become to many physically iinbearable, bringing on a high 

 nervous excitement, and causing unrestrained tears to fall in 

 showers ; to the siek and the delicate they are overpowering 

 ieyond measure. Never are they so fine or so agreeable as 

 when grown in a cool greenhouse, or out in the open air with 

 the fresh young grass about them, and the spring breezes waft- 

 ing their perfume to each passer-by. 



Fashion, or long usage, has assigned the Orange blossom as 

 the bride's peculiar flower ; and if it were tried, perhaps, the 

 rule of seeming fitness could not easily be broken through, for 

 each maiden in her turn would hold forth eager longing hands 

 for it on the eve of her wedding day, and, perhaps, think she 

 was not safely and truly married if she wore it net. And yet 

 it is not the fairest or the most bride-like of flowers. Our re- 

 mote ancestors knew best why they fixed upon it — perhaps they 

 had not a long list to choose from. It is not half so pleasing 

 as the Almond, Pear, Apple, or Plum blossom ; indeed, it has 

 little beauty and less grace, for its stifl; petals seem as though 

 they were cut out of cardboard, and its stamens as if they had 

 no purpose in the world but to fall away and make visible the 

 embryo fruit. Point out the Orange blossom to any young 

 lady with a cultivated taste for flowers, who does not know 

 what it is Uke, never remembers to have seen it, and sure 

 enough the exclamation will be, "Is that Orange blossom? 

 Is that all ? I wonder they should make such a fuss about it." 



Then there are the Campanulas — real home flowers, well 

 fitted for those gardens where the owners spend much of their 

 time, where the master digs for himself, and smaller, softer 

 fingers tie up the slender stems, and clip ofi the dying blooms, 

 so that the Uttle plants can never do what they are always 

 trying to — form their seed-vessels ; then they flower week after 

 week, holding up such clear deUcate cups to view, clear and 

 delicate as Dresden china, and in which one would think the 

 fairies deUght to bathe when the rain is over. Yet these plants 

 make no show in the large garden ; rather the reverse, for they 

 appear to be always in a going-away state ; but they have great 

 interest and beauty in a smaller one when carefully tended. 



And, then, there is the Rose — fairest and sweetest of all 

 flowers, whether it be the old Cabbage Rose, or the latest, 



newest, and best ; which may be grown to a like perfection in 

 the little cottage garden and in the rosei-y of acres ; which is 

 never out of place, never unfit, never unacceptable ; which may 

 adorn the shopkeeper's back parlour, or the merchant's palace; 

 which the poorest little maiden and the royal princess may 

 wear with equal good taste ; which all may give and all accept, 

 whatever their difference of rank, or fortune, or culture may be, 

 and which is never more touching, or possessed with a deeper 

 meaning, than when offered by the poor to the comparatively 

 wealthy. Surely of all flowers it is the richest, the most beau- 

 tiful, from its earUest stage of formation to the dropping down 

 of the last petals. No wonder it is a favourite, for it adapts 

 itself to changing circumstances, and oft'ers its blooms and 

 its perfume without stint or measure ; and even in their 

 dying state the flowers are said to possess a soothing, healing 

 influence. In sheltered nooks, in hundreds of gardens, the 

 pale pink Monthly Rose opens wide its blossoms almost before 

 the snow has melted from the neighbouring hilltops ; and 

 when the winter sets in and the year is dying you find the 

 bushes covered over with a multitude of buds, wanting only a 

 little dry sunshine to make them burst out as if to adorn a 

 very Indian summer. 



I know of no other flower equally fitted for all times and 

 circumstances. Some few there are even better suited for 

 house plants, some which, when submitted to the influence of 

 artificial light, brighten up or deepen their colour to a mar- 

 vellous intensity, like the Primula ; it seems to laugh again 

 when placed in the fuU glow of a lamp. It is hard to believe 

 it is the same little pink flower, so ready to droop beneath the 

 sun's rays ; but then the Primula wiU not grow out of doors 

 in our cold, damp climate, and it is not very well adapted for 

 a window plant. Its soft woolly leaves cannot be kept clean 

 without injury. The constant syringing which keeps the Rose 

 tree green, bright, and pleasant, would be death and destruction 

 to the Primula. 



And then there are some plants and flowers fitted only for 

 their native place, the spot of their birth — whose very life 

 appears to be made up of the chilly night winds as well as the 

 hot sunshine. Bring in the wild Bluebell from the hillside, 

 and how poor and miserable it becomes — how its beauty and 

 freshness pale away before the gUtter and strong lights of the 

 drawing-room. Better far to leave it in its own wild home — 

 on the breezy common, or the rough hilltop, or the edges of the 

 corn fields, bending gracefully on its thread-like stalks, and 

 bravely breasting the rain and storms of autumn. There it 

 flourishes without help or care, a perpetual gladness. The 

 wind sweeping over the bearded Barley waves to and fro its 

 tiny bells, as if making gentle chimes ; and the full-laden bees 

 find in them cities of refuge to shelter in, until the dark clouds 

 pass away and they can see their way home. — Maud.i 



PEAR CULTURE. 



(Continued from j'cigii 71.) 



Fan-tmininij. — A maiden tree should be headed or cut down 

 to within 1 foot of the ground, and immediately above a bud, 

 with two or more buds situated a little lower. This heading 

 down should be performed in mild weather between the fall of 

 the leaves and JXarch, November being a good season. In 

 spring one shoot is to be trained upright, and one to the right, 

 and another to the left, to furnish side branches. AU other 

 shoots should be rubbed off closely. With the view of giving 

 vigour to the side shoots, these should be trained at an angle 

 of 45°. 



In the autumn the upright and both the side shoots should 

 be cut back to within a foot of the point from which the latter 

 take their rise. Three shoots must be secui'ed on the upright 

 shoot or stem of the tree as in the preceding or first season, 

 and they are to be trained in a similar manner ; on each of 

 the side branches two shoots are to be left, training them in 

 at an angle of 43°. All other shoots are to be stopped at the 

 third leaf, and to one afterwards throughout the season. 



In the third season of pruning the leader should be headed 

 back to 1 foot, and the two uppermost side branches or shoots 

 must be cut back to 1 foot from the stem of the tree ; but the 

 lowest two are not to have their shoots shortened in this or 

 the following season. In order to secure the disposition of 

 the shoots at regular distances a semicircle should be drawn 

 at 10 feet from the stem, taking the setting-on of the lowest 

 two side branches as the centre ; the distances between the 

 shoots or branches are measured on the semicircular line, 



