February 17, 1S70. ) 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 



127 



returned in a few days with a certificate of verification, with 

 some other valuable information respecting mercurial thermo- 

 meters ; but only those instruments that are divided on the 3tem 

 or tube will get a certificate, as thev are verified unmounted. 

 The address is, " Kew Observatory, Richmond, London, S.W." 

 — J. Bryan. 



OUR TREES. 



Of all Nature's gifts to man, gifts which make beautiful this 

 world of ours, none are more rich or varied in aspect, or longer 

 life-enduring than our trees. They possess a magnificence, a 

 wealth of beauty, with which even our choicest flowers may not 

 compare, for the beauty of these flowers is but for a short 

 time ; a few hot summer days, a touch of fro3t, a cold rainy 

 wind, and it is faded, goDe for the season. The golden Wheat, 

 or the bearded Barley, waving over acre3 of sunny slopes 

 beneath a soft blue sky, has a glory we reverently ackaowledge, 

 as we stand and look and wonder; but then how soon the 

 "harvest homo" echoes over the hills, and of our bright pic- 

 ture nothing is left but the brown soil. Yet our trees, like 

 tried friends, are with us through all seasons — -nay, season 

 after season, stretchiug far back into remote times, a part of 

 our history, and yet living with us to-day — strong, and green, 

 and fresh, and wide-spreading; the old resting thankfully be- 

 neath the shade of the same trees generations of their fore- 

 fathers played under when children — trees which retain through 

 the passing years (how many, they with a strange inward 

 fidelity never forget to count) a beauty which i3 dear to our 

 English hearts — so dear that we associate them with the greatest 

 events of our lives. In j )y we plant the young sapling to mark 

 the gift day of a new life. And royal hands sometimes deign 

 to leave such mementos of a passing visit to keep their me- 

 mories green. 'We plant them not always wisely, nor well, and 

 often much too near the new homestead; but how they are 

 watched, and guarded, and cared for, and loved, only the planter 

 knows. Then, too, how they grace our mansions ! What, indeed, 

 would the stately homes of England be without the old ancestral 

 trees '? — the old trees that have grown for so many years side 

 by side, intertwining their spreading branches under and over 

 each other, until they have made a roof of living green, through 

 whose density the June sun cannot penetrate, and in whose 

 mysterious gloom night gathers before the day is done. 



The dear trees ! They stand by our quiet homes with a solemn 

 presence, companions we should grieve to part from. They 

 adorn tho wayside cottage, hiding its unsightiiness, refining its 

 roughness. They are on our lawns, sweeping their long feathery 

 branches in regal state over the soft green grass, and wooing 

 the mosses to put on their brightest emerald. They are on the 

 high hills, sturdy and strong, playing with the summer breezes, 

 battling with the winter winds. They are in the shady lanes, 

 and the sheltered valleys, where the silver Ditchwort and the 

 Hue Hyacinth spread over their tangled root3 and make glad 

 the sunny banks. They are by the sides of the murmuring 

 rivers, looking down into the shining depths, and answering 

 back with a sweeter murmur. Where beauty is they increase 

 it tenfold; and to the least interesting spot, what a charm they 

 impart of light and shade, of life and motion ! They are said 

 to be large consumers of the elements of life, careful of their 

 own needs, gathering from the soil, from the sunshine, and 

 irom the rain-cloud more than enough ; yet they are mo3t 

 generous returners, they give back far more than they take, 

 often turning the evil into good — so much so, that the man is 

 considered worse than a heathen who shall dare to injure or 

 destroy the town tree, however poor and miserable its appear- 

 ance may be. 



Then, too, they are of most ancient lineage ; they claim 

 kindred with the marvellous gigantic growth of thousands and 

 thousands of ages ago — that wondrous sunny growth which is 

 working in our factories now, the centre power of movement, 

 the helper of science in her mighty progress, the warmth of 

 onr churches, the first comfort of our homes, and the keeper- 

 alive in our northern climes of Flora's sweet gifts, whereby we 

 are enabled in gladness to place flowers on our Christmas-day 

 altar. How cold, and bare, and unproductive would onr island 

 be if there were no trees, either for use or ornament, no long 

 thick plantations to shelter our houses and gardens from 

 keen biting blasts ; no noble parks for the deer to wander 

 through ; no old woods for the birds to chant forth their melody 

 in, nor for the squirrel to gambol in in safety. How would the 

 cruel east wind sweep with unbroken power from shore to shore, 

 and everything with life suffer from its unsoftened influence ! 



After dwelling for a long time in the midst of a large town, 

 when we escape into the open country, how onr hearts leap for 

 joy when we catch sight of our favourite tree, be it patient Oak, 

 or graceful Ash, or silver Birch, or touch-me-not Walnut. They 

 have from us a great welcome; we never tire of their pre- 

 sence. How they bud and bloom, and drop their foliage, and 

 are never quite bereft of beauty, for even when leafless they 

 possess a symmetry of form, a peculiar individuality of character, 

 never separated from their natural gracefulness. And in all 

 their many changes, and these are ever recurring, they never 

 change beyond recognition ; even in the stern winter time, 

 which we are prone to speak of as lifeless and joyless, when 

 Nature wears her greyish garment; they are our greatest orna- 

 ments ; they atand out boldly in the clear frosty air pointing 

 their silent fingers to the cloudless sky, or they make a fine net- 

 work of interlaced twigs, through which the moon looks down 

 upon the snow-covered world. Yes, through all seasons they 

 retain their interest ; they battle bravely with the winter 

 storms, and wait patiently until the hard stone-like soil hag 

 warmed and softened; then, like magic, they burst into rapid 

 growth, not here or there by fitful temper, but everywhere 

 wondrous revelations ; myriads of clustered leaves of soft de- 

 licate tissue, and various shades of colour, proclaiming with 

 a hymn of gladness to which no ear is deaf the new world of 

 beauty, the awakening-up out of the long sleep of rest. 



And is there not a beauty of the trees when summer comes 

 with her firmer tissues, her darker hues, and larger growth, 

 and strange moving shadow3 over field, and garden, and way- 

 side ? And when autumn comes, what Dan equal the glory of 

 our trees ? How they change spring's hymn of gladness into one 

 richer and deeper — of thankfulness, Nature's very jubilee. 

 How suddenly, as by fairy wand, they turn all their sombre fo- 

 liage into bright leaves more deeply coloured than ever Millais 

 painted. And when winter comes in earnest, and the hoar 

 frost and the silent snow fall down upon the trees, covering 

 every branch, and twig, and leaf with a garment of pure glitter- 

 ing white, what of all Nature's yearly gifts to man can equal 

 the dazzling beauty of the gho3t-lika trees?— Maud. 



Easter Beurre Pear. — I have sent this morning a Email 

 box containing a few fruits of the Easter Beurre for your in- 

 spection, being a fair sample from a tree growing on an east 

 wall, which produces a good crop every year. In fact, in this 

 locality we consider it one of the best late Pears we have, 

 although it may and has a slight tendency to become mealy 

 when overripe, also to ripen rather sooner than we would wish ; 

 still, as far as my experience goes, it is worthy of a standing 

 with any of the late kinds, and does remarkably well with an 

 eastern aspect. — B. Godbold, The Gardens, Chipstead, Kent. 



[The Pears were very fine, and fully ripe. Send your notes 

 on Camellia culture at the same time as von send the specimens. 

 —Eds.] __ 



ROYAL HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



It will be seen from the report of the annual meeting of the 

 Royal Horticultural Society, which we published last week, 

 that the beginning of the end of Chiswi<-k has come. This is 

 an event which all who knew anything about the matter have 

 for some time looked forward to, and one, also, for which some 

 provision had to be made at no distant date. In some ten or 

 eleven years the lease of the garden, held under the Duke of 

 Devonshire, will terminate, and, nolens vole;xs,ihe Society must 

 then have relinquished the garden. Circumstances not by 

 any means new to the Society have, however, hastened the 

 consideration of the abandonment of Chiswick. The expense 

 of maintaining it is said by those in authority to be greater 

 than the Society can bear, and if the Society is to exist at all 

 it must be dismembered, and this right hand must be cut off. 

 It 13 a bitter pill to swallow, but sooner or later it had to be 

 done, and this is thought the best time to do it. 



This is not a subject upon which there is but cue opinion, 

 for there are many, and these too well grounded, some of them ; 

 but the answer to all i3 the total inability of the Society to 

 maintain two large establishments. Horticulturists then say, 

 Why not let Kensington go ? for though the Society has ex- 

 pended £120,000 there, it has not a stick or a brick it can call 

 its own, while at Chiswick it has its houses and plant collec- 

 tions, and the finest collection of fruit trees to be found any- 

 where. The answer to this is, that a new garden is to be ob- 

 tained, and will be secured, before Chiswick is given up, so tha 

 the trees, and plants, and structures, which are of value to 



