142 



JOUENAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 



[ August 21, 1866. 



berries, for we are to dine at half-past three. Luncheon over, 

 ire formed little parties and started out whither I knew not, 

 for I was an utter stranger. As usual, the young folks managed 

 to get together — the old story over again ; and the married 

 Indies they got together, doubtless talking about their children's 

 colds, measles, and education. Then the husbands they got 

 together, save the very young ones or the hen-pecked, and felt 

 almost bachelors again. 



Led by my host, who welcomed me as warmly as he had 

 invited me, I saunter up the village a little way, and enter a 

 walled garden about half an acre in extent. On the left hand I 

 inspect a well-built on hard-house, full of healthy little trees, and 

 Vines, and larger wall trees. This pretty house is on what was 

 a mere garden wall three years ago. " This house," said Mr. 

 Awdey, " I owe to The Journal of Horticulture." Passing 

 on I come to a ground vinery; "This, too," said Mr. A., 

 "I owe to Tin-: Journal op Horticulture." Looking round 

 me I noticed the thorough cultivation of the garden. There is 

 a great difference between half gardening and whole gardening 

 — the soil made to produce something, or the soil made to 

 produce as much as possible, and grow everything as well as 

 possible. I said. "What a soil you have!" "Ah, yes; but 

 I carted six and thirty loads of maiden mould here a little 

 time back," was the reply. Perhaps being in the frnit garden 

 is the place to speak of the Strawberries cultivated by Mr. 

 Awdey, although, as I shall presently state, they are grown 

 chiefly with the Roses. The varieties Mr. Awdey cultivates 

 are Eclipse, Oscar, Sir Harry, Sir C. Napier, Carolina Superba, 

 and Eleanor; but of their size and flavour by-and-by. Walk- 

 ing around the walled garden I observed that net frames were 

 fai fcened in front of the fruit tree? ; this is a neater and better 

 plan than mere nets of string. 



Coming out into a lane we reached the church, crossed the | 

 churchyard, dip] 1 down the grassy slope, now and then look- 

 ing at the fine view before us, and took a path across the fields 

 to the right. Well, where are we going? I had imagined a 

 house, shrubberies and Rose garden adjoining; but I was now { 

 Leaving all human habitations behind me, and going among | 

 the rich pastures iu the valley below the Wiltshire Downs. 

 Further on I find in a field Roses surrounding a piece of grass 

 used for croquet, just outside a boarded enclosure. Here I 

 prepare to stop, but no ; I am told that these Roses are but a 

 few, chiefly transplanted dormant buds of last year's budding. 

 I am led to the corner of the wooden enclosure, a suspiciously ' 

 little door is opened, and my breath is almost gone ; for slightly ' 

 to alter the word- of Kirke White — 



" Such :i >iu,'lit as 1 saw there. I ne'er hud seen before : 

 But such i sight as I saw there, 1 hope to see once more." 



Now, good reader, just imagine a two-acre field right out in 

 the country, boarded in with 10-feet high boards, precluding, I 

 therefore, all sight of what was inside while you were on the I 

 level ground. A door opens and you enter, and behold Felicite | 

 Perpetue Roses, those darling cream white flowers, covering j 

 or rather lining the whole inside of the boards, thus giving a j 

 frame of pearly whiteness to the picture. Then within, beds I 

 of Roses some 16 yards square, in each bed Roses of the 

 same height, and each row of the same colour. Imagine wide 

 borders all round, separated by paths of the original turf of the i 

 field, for this Rose garden was a few years since but a field j 

 where cows grazed: theu grass paths between each bed; while ! 

 overhead arches, Rose-covered, united border with bed, and beds 

 with each other. Then at your feet on each side of you were 

 marvellously-grown Strawberries in vast abundance. I walked 

 up the middle path to the other end of this Rose field, then 

 turning round I surveyed the scene. Before me at that end 

 lay a carpet of dwarf Roses, grown on the Mauetti, then beds 

 of half-standards, then higher ; but I was struck with the rich 

 colour of the scene before me, begirt in such good taste with a 

 belt of white. No flower was there but the Rose ; but what a 

 bedding plant it makes in good hands and good soil ! The 

 Roses in the beds were sometimes in lines, at other times 

 planted quincunx, and the rich brown pasture mould looked 

 not unsightly between the stems. Now, to say what Roses were 

 there would be simply to write out the first good Rose catalogue 

 that came to hand. Mr. Awdey had within and outside the 

 enclosure about four thousand plants. Inside none but the 

 best Perpetuals ; outside were groups of the best of the old 

 summer Roses, and extensive young plantations of the novelties 

 of the Rose world, which having successfully passed their no- 

 vitiate outside, will be hereafter admitted to the Rose garden 

 proper. Every known beautiful Rose suited for out-door 



growth was before me. Hundreds of Charles Lefebvres, and 

 Senatetrr VaisBes, and Comtesse de Chabrillants, the three un- 

 rivalled ones ; bold Eugene Appert, its leaf almost a flower, so 

 beautiful is it ; delicate Auguste Mie ; more delicate Made- 

 moiselle de Bonnaire ; Madame Boll, that fine woman ; that 

 gorgeous velvety monarch, Louis XIV.: John Hopper, the 

 best of recent English (Rose) gentlemen. But how can I men- 

 tion the dukes and duchesses, the generals and lords, the 

 madames, princes, and emperors, the tender souvenirs ? — why, 

 all were there ! Hybrid — no, higli-bred Perpetuals, princes of 

 the Bourbon line, Chinese mandarins, and ladies very fine 

 indeed, and smelling, as of course they ought, of tea. Hundreds 

 of the best, dozens of the second best, all varieties of colour, 

 all varieties of leaf, and habit, and growth — truly it was a 

 fairy scene. 



Then came the attack upon the Strawberries, though we were 

 warned not to judge of their size, as the best had been gathered 

 for dinner. 



Round and round I go — outside to see the novelties, or to 

 look at the old favourite summer Roses. In the middle of the 

 garden I had noticed something that seemed a combination of 

 skeleton pump without a handle and a camera, the whole made 

 of wood and painted green ; but where was the photographer '.' 

 Why was the camera always looking straight at the summer 

 house ? By the way, how- indifferent to appearance must a pho- 

 tographer be. See one with his head under his velvet focussing 

 his picture : behold the human form greatly degraded — a sort 

 of two-legged head-wrapped-up animal, given to inelegant 

 postures. But, to return. I asked what the green machine 

 might be, and was told that it was a revolving gun, which went 

 by clockwork, had a pendulum, and when loaded and wound 

 up fired every half hour during the four-and-twenty, and that 

 it was invented by a Wiltshire man. Now, query, Do not the 

 blackbirds become used to the firing at stated intervals ? For 

 instance, Do they not enjoy twenty-five minutes' thieving of 

 the Strawberries, flyover the wall, and then, the firing over, 

 enjoy twenty-five minutes more, and so on ? Wandering among 

 the Roses, Mr. Awdey attracted my attention to his favourites, 

 and remarked, " He not only read, but looked for the papers of 

 'D., DcaV" 



A bell sounded on the hill, and we strolled up to a tent where 

 dinner was provided, and sat down — forty happy souls, to re- 

 fresh our bodies. A capital dinner a la Busse, and, oh, the 

 dishes of Strawberries! Mr. Awdey stated, " that during the 

 whole season the fruit on aU his six varieties had been re- 

 markably fine, many of the berries weighing an ounce each." 

 I wandered from Oscar to Sir Harry, which I think I liked 

 best ; then to Sir Charles Napier, until Eleanor's charms 

 attracted me ; nor could I think of passing by Carolina 

 Superba, nor wholly neglect Eclipse. Certainly the old rule, 

 the larger the berry the poorer the flavour, no longer holds 

 good. I have not yet tasted The Lady ; but what can beat Sir 

 Harry ? We had a pleasant merry dinner under the tent, 

 laughing at rain, for though one shower fell, who cared a bit 

 about it ? 



After dinner we went back to the Roses, and soon Mr. Awdey 

 gave the word " Gather bouquets for the ladies!" Then out 

 came knives and scissors, and the ladies were most civil and 

 fascinating to those who gathered for them. They were — who 

 would not be ? — greedy for Roses ; they opened their parasols, 

 yea, and umbrellas, which, inverted, became Rose-baskets of 

 large dimensions, while our host looked on laughing, and bade 

 them take more. A walk back to the tent followed, where 

 we sipped our tea, looking down upon the beautiful Rose 

 garden, which shone like a rich-coloured gem among the 

 green fields, and no one could imagine a single Rose had been 

 gathered. 



Seend possesses a lovely view ; there it lay before us, the 

 rich broad valley, then the rising woods of Earlstoke, backed 

 by the Downs ; to the right, far away, was Rood Ashton, to the 

 left, hut distant, Roundaway Down. A wide, wide view filled 

 our eyes. 



After tea there came the gradual dropping-off of guests ; 

 timid ladies eyed their boot soles, fearing damp ; loving fathers 

 hastened away their daughters ; the most determined croquet 

 players had to give up ; the party grew smaller and smaller iu 

 spite of our host's hospitable entreaties, for many of his guests 

 had far to go to reach their homes. 



I must add, in conclusion, that Mr. Awdey had budded the 

 greater number of his Roses with his own hand, and, like all 

 Rose-lovers, he loved them more and more. He afforded us 

 all a great treat ; his love of Roses was no selfish love, for he 



