2 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTUEE AUD COTTAGE GARDENEB, 



[ January 7, 1869. 



they entwine themselves around the heart of the old man and 

 ■woman. The love of flowers in some hearts dawns very early, 

 in others circumstances draw it out, but in all cases it is, love 

 me once and love me ever. Said a clergyman, " The love of 

 flowers came to me in trying to please the taste of my delicate 

 wife. I took the cuttings under her guidance, and to spare 

 her strength, and to please her ; then I watched their progress, 

 and so on from one thing to another, and I loved the flowers, 

 first for her sake, then for hers and their own." The love of 

 nature is sometimes marvellously great. Thus you who know 

 old London will remember a narrow, close, half-stifling street, 

 called Little Tower Street ; in that street, says Peter Cunning- 

 ham, Thomson composed his poem cf " Summer." 



Jfrom flowers I turn to poultry, which brings me at once to 

 poultry shows. Here I back up with all the strength I possess 

 the words of " Nemo," " Censor," and others, for rascahty 

 threatens to spoil our shows, and make exhibiting an impossi- 

 bility for an honest man or woman. But it must not be. 

 Judges f I ask you in this battle of truth and honesty, against 

 falsehood and dishonesty, to use first your eyes, and then use 

 all your powers of exposure, and spare no one. Our pastime 

 and our pleasure, more sanctioned each year by the educated 

 public, must not be spoiled by a set of dishonest painters, 

 dyers, and trimmers. Let committees always have trimming 

 clauses, and trim the trimmers smartly if they catch them. I 

 appeal to every honest man to help in this— every one who has 

 the feelings of a gentleman, an Englishman, and a Christian ; 

 and, by long experience I know that poor men have these 

 feelings quite as strongly as rich men. If this system of fraud 

 is to be continued, then what I have always asserted and felt to 

 be true — viz., that there was no manner or degree of vice con- 

 nected with our pleasures and exhibitions, will no longer be 

 true. I have contended that men of gentlemanly feeling of all 

 ranks can meet and enjoy, and be the better for the meeting 

 and enjoyment. Let us all determine that it shall still be so. 

 There is a pleasure in competition, but no pleasure to an 

 honest mind when the competition is dishonest. On this 

 subject I will quote a letter this day received from a gentleman 

 fancier in Scotland. Speaking of his visit to the Glasgow 

 Show, he says, " I wish I could describe as I feel, the pleasure 

 I experienced in being with so many of those I saw in Glas- 

 gow. My visit convinced me more than ever that such tastes 

 can be gratified and indulged in by gentlemen and Christians, 

 and it is only when those who are not both of these intrude 

 themselves, that improper feelings and practices show them- 

 selves." 



Another point — let there be no spiteful complaining letters 

 after a show is over. Sometimes 1 think that committees 

 ■who have so much labour will be disgusted, and shrink from 

 having shows in future. The judging is decisive, men do their 

 best, and if you have not obtained a prize, be too manly or 

 womanly to write grumbling, grudging letters. 



It has, I know, given much pleasure to some readers, that 

 during the last year articles on Fancy Pigeons have been more 

 nnmerous, more lengthy, and evidently the products of more 

 educated pens. I hope the " art " will increase and be in- 

 creasingly loved. 



Petland is one department in fancy-land. Many who do no 

 show their birds yet delight to sit among them, watching them 

 taming them, and infinitely amused by their habits and dis 

 positions. As to petland, I was taken, at the Glasgow Show, 

 by a gallant Captain, who, to use his own words, "was pro- 

 moted into the fancy after he had ended the Crimean cam- 

 paign," and he bade me mark how his pet Barb could be taken 

 out of his cage and placed on his hand and shoulder, the bird 

 not the least disturbed by the hundreds of other birds around 

 him, and the many stranger-faces in the Hall. I found out, 

 too, in the beautiful show of Almond Tumblers, a little hen 

 that again and again put down her well-shaped little head 

 to be caressed by my finger, in spite of the half-jealous menaces 

 of her mate. That little hen was, doubtless, " somebody's 

 darling." 



In our IJth of October Number was an account of the Christ- 

 church Poultry and Pigeon Show, Canterbury, New Zealand, 

 and an N.B. at the end saying, " The Fantails were very beauti- 

 ful and attracted much notice. I think ' Wiltshike Eectoe ' 

 would have been pleased with them." I thank the writer of 

 those words, and beg to send him, I sitting feet to his feet, he 

 in mid-summer, I in mid-winter, my best wishes for the New 

 Year. 



There is yet another class of our readers, those who delight 

 in bees. I own to profound ignorance on this subject, and 



thought when I saw an article entitled, " Autumnal Unions," 

 it was a waggish heading to a paper on late marriages, and as I 

 am a surrogate, I thought I might be interested in it. But 

 although I cannot send a word of my own to our bee friends, 

 yet I will give them the words of another, the finest and most 

 elevated and elevating bee-poetry (Shakspeare's excepted), with 

 which I am acquainted. Perhaps the lines will be new to 

 some readers, as Wordsworth is scarcely read so much as ha 

 deserves. He speaks of the bee as — 



" A statist prudent to conler 

 Upon the common weal; a waiTior boM, 

 Radiant all over with unbnrniahed gold. 

 And armed with living spear for mortal fight ; 



A cunning forager. 

 That spreads no waste ; a social builder ; one 

 In whom all busy oflBcos unite 

 "With all fine functions that afford delight. 

 Observe each wing t a tiny van I 

 The structure of her laden thigh. 

 How fragile ! yet of ancestry 

 Mysteriously remote and high ; 

 High as the imperial front of man ; 

 The roseate bloom on woman's cheek; 

 The soaring eagle's curved beak ; 

 The white plumes of the floating swan ; 

 Old as the tigcr^s paw, the lion's mane, 

 Ero shaken by that mood of stern disdain 

 At which the desert trembles. — Humming bee I 

 Thy sting was needless then, perchance unknown; 

 The seeds of malice were not sown ; 

 AH creatures met in peace, from fierceness free, 

 And no pride blended with their dignity. 



Tears had not broken from their source ; 

 Nor Anguish strayed from her Tartarean den; 

 The golden years maintained a course 

 Not undiversified though smooth and even." 



The last lines furnish me a few closing words. May the 

 course of "our Journal" be this year "not nndiversified, 

 though smooth and even," and such, too, the course of the 

 life of every one of its readers. May all our friends meet all 

 their friends this happy season in peace and comfort. May 

 care and sickness be the guest of none during the year's twelve 

 months. In brief, may it be to all 



A THOROUOHLT HAPPY NEW TEAE. 



— WiLTSHiBE Eectoe. i»- 



MARKET 



GARDENING 

 PARIS. 



ABOUT 



-No. 4. 



LONDON AN«? 



SALADS. 



There are two adjuncts to a French dinner, which, whatever 

 may be the number of courses or variety of the dishes, are 

 never wanting — the putage and the salade. The former not 

 that fiery compound in which sherry and cayenne pepper fight foe 

 the mastery, and which the hotter it is the more the skill of the 

 cook seems manifest, and one is amused to hear the short little 

 cough going round the table as the cayenne enters the throat, 

 but one, sometimes thin enough, but always ungreasy, clear, 

 and palatable ; while in the production of a salade no cream or 

 condiments, save salt, sharp vinegar, and plentiful supplies of 

 oil are admitted. Now, it matters not when you are at Paris, 

 in the height of summer or the depth of winter, you are sure 

 to obtain a good salad, and of a good salad, of course the chief 

 thing is the foundation. How, then, are these salads obtained " 

 I have already adverted to the fact that this is not the tasta 

 of John Bull. In winter, salads are not relished, except by 

 those who have lived and travelled abroad, for they are consi- 

 dered unwholesome, a mistake, as I believe, if eaten in the 

 proper way — a great point ; for did I not yesterday partake of 

 a vile compound, in which every atom of crispness was taken 

 out of what was really not bad Endive, by being swum in cream 

 and vinegar? 



With regard to winter salading, as a general rule this is a 

 failure in England, or was, for of late years there has been, as 

 far as I can judge, a considerable improvement ; and no one 

 who possesses an orchard house ought ever to be without good, 

 crisp, tender salading. The market gardeners, I conceive, 

 know best their own interests, and find other things pay them 

 better ; whereas in the Paris market the large supply meets a 

 ready sale, for all classes rejoice in their salading. The winter 

 salads used in France are mainly the Cabbage and Cos Lettuce 

 and the harbe de capucin, and these are produced in great per- 

 fection according to the following plans. 



In every market garden around Paris the visitor sees a large 

 array of bell-glassea called "cloches." Thus, at the garden of 

 Dupont, at Cliohy, which ia not more than three er four acres 



