32 



JOUENAL OF HOETICULTUEE AND COTTAGE GAEDENEB. 



[ Jarmary 13, 1876. 



the fifty to sixty pecks which were commonly yielded by the 

 old trees. Further, when the fruit again paid the rent the 

 greater portion was produced Ly the old tree that had been 

 cnt down and grafted. The ecions did not grow, but the old 

 stump put forth vigorous shoots, which are now fruitful 

 branches, and I cannot predict how long it wOl continue to 

 yield valuable fruit. 



Many a gnarled old orchard tree may invite uprooting ; it is 

 moss-covered, and api nrently exhausted, but the real fact is 

 its energies are crippled and its channels of life obstructed ; 

 remove the obstruction, and note its liberated power. It puts 

 forth new leaves, new branches, new roots, and new fruit. If 

 the trunk of a tree is healthy and the kind is good, yet the 

 produce stUl trashy, cut it down and do not graft, and in the 

 poor man's garden the old tree will be more profitable than 

 the young pyramid. If the kind is not good, of course graft. 

 Either plan is preferable to uprooting — that is, if the old stem 

 is healthy. 



The dozen pyramids which I planted twenty years ago are 

 now fruitful trees, but have long ceased to be pyramids. They 

 have gone the way such trees usually go under such circum- 

 stances, the only pruning they receive being the gradual 

 removal of the lower branches until the trees become useful 

 standards, needing (which in such places they cannot receive) 

 no summer-pinching, but forming natural spurs on natural 

 trees. Pyramids, where they can have skilled attention, are 

 both profitable and attractive, but I cannot resist recommend- 

 ing old-fashioned standards as the trees to fill the markets 

 with useful fruit, and pay the poor man's rent : hence it is 

 that I plead for " old trees," and enter my protest against 

 their hasty and wholesale destruction. Renovate, I urge em- 

 phatically, but do not destroy. 



I once committed an error on a larger scale. The orchard 

 in my new charge was an old one ; the trees were mossy, 

 scraggy, and ugly. As is common, between the young man 

 and old trees there was no bond of sympathy. Their removal 

 was urged, and a new plantation coveted. But the old master, 

 wiser than the young man, insisted on the work being done 

 " by halves." Half were accordingly destroyed, and new trees 

 purchased at a cheap rate at an auction sale. They were 

 planted, and are fine trees now, but they were not " true to 

 name," and but for the old trees which were not destroyed the 

 fruit Eupply tor the establishment would still be far below the 

 requirements. 



Those are lessons which should not be lost. They speak 

 with all the force of dearly bought practice. Never trust to 

 cheap trees ; never destroy the old until you have proved the 

 new. 



I have yet another example of the dangerous nature of 

 "improvements" which involve extensive fruit-tree destruc- 

 tion. In the parish adjoining my abode is the seat of a noble- 

 man of very high rank. He had other seats, and seldom was 

 in residence here, yet here were the faiuily fruit preserves. 

 The trees were numerous, and, it must be admitted, ugly. 

 They no doubt also impoverished much ground, but they also 

 yielded tons of serviceable fruit. A young gardener was in- 

 stalled in charge. He was a persevering, industrious, and 

 able man, but, like many others, judged too hastily, and " im- 

 proved " too quickly. The old trees were to him an eyesore ; 

 their appearance could reflect no credit on his management; 

 they lacked form, symmetry, and vigour. lie longed for trees 

 of modern mould which would reflect in their forms their 

 manager's skill. These he obtained, but, unfortunately, before 

 proving them he destroyed the old. Some he pruned, others 

 he grafted, and many he uprooted. The following year the 

 call for fruit could not bo answered except by assurances of 

 the precocious character of the new trees ; but another year 

 brought another failure, and then a third. The irate nobleman 

 could endure it no longer, and the career of a promising young 

 man was cnt short by dismissal. The destruction of the old 

 trees was unpardonable, and the misdirected energies of an 

 able man were lost, his hopes of fame blighted, and he has 

 since struggled on in obscurity. 



I have said , Eather than destroy renovate. A great deal may 

 be done in the way of old fruit-tree restoration that is left 

 undone. The lichens are tolerated year after year to lux- 

 uriate on the branches, appropriating the juices of the tree, 

 robbing it of sustenance, almost of life. The moss-covered 

 bark of neglected trees has an analogy in the skin affections 

 of animals, and neither can flourish so long as the evil is 

 suffered to remain. The cleaning of the bark of old trees is 

 directly beneficial, and if nothing further is done than that 



their improved state becomes shortly manifest. Lichens are 

 easily destroyed — first, if very bad, roughly scraping the 

 branches and then dressing them thoroughly with fresh lime, 

 dusting the trees when the branches are wet. Lime also 

 mixed with water, in which at the least a pound of salt has 

 been dissolved to each pailful, will destroy the parasites if 

 applied in a thorough manner, and will not only not injure 

 the trees, but cannot fail to be of the greatest benefit. The 

 glaring white colour, if objectionable, may be toned down by 

 soot, or a colourless bark-cleanser is afforded by a strong 

 mixture of brine and soft soap. The removal of the exhaustive 

 encrustation of moss, especially from the young branches, 

 permits an increase of food to the tree both from the earth 

 and air, imparting to it additional sustenance and strength, 

 which it Will show by healthier foliage and better fruit. 



But that is not all that old trees require and deserve. They 

 require pruning; some gently, some violently. On the head- 

 ing-down of old fruit trees we may take a lesson from the 

 plantations of forest trees. Who has not observed the vigor- 

 ous upspringing of fresh growth from the old stools of recently 

 felled broad-foliaged deciduous trees and evergreens, the 

 narrow-leaved kinds, as the Firs, being exceptions? 



Fruit trees are amenable to the same mode of resuscitation. 

 Healthy trunks of Apple and Pear trees in orchards, and 

 Pears, Plums, and especially Peaches on walls will, if out down 

 to a convenient part, break fresh growth and cover space, and 

 bear a given quantity of fruit much more quickly than will 

 young trees. It is not always advisable to dismember the 

 trees so thoroughly, but it is as well that we forget not that it 

 may be done if necessary, as it certainly might be more fre- 

 quently than it is, with undoubted advantage to trees and 

 owners. It is well known that an old Apple or Pear tree of, it 

 may be, a century old will, if grafted, put on a new head, grow 

 vigorously, and bear after the manner of a young tree ; yet do 

 we not forget that if the old stem was not grafted that it would 

 push fresh growth of its own kind, which would grow as freely 

 as do the scions, of which it becomes the foster-parent ? 



Now for some more gentle pruning. Much has been said on 

 the necessity of thinning the branches of old fruit trees. " Open 

 out the centres of such trees and let the light and air do their 

 beneficent work," is oft-repeated advice, and has a tempting 

 sound. Here again the theory is good, but practice is needful 

 to apply it to a profitable purpose. We must not go to work 

 hastily and without due thought. First consider if it is pos- 

 sible that by exposing the interior branches of an old fruit 

 tree, which have been enveloped in semi-darkness for half a 

 century, to the sun and air we can clothe these old branches 

 with fruitful spurs. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred 

 this hoped-for result is not achieved, and if the tree so operated 

 upon is isolated, and on all sides exposed, the probability is 

 that more harm than good is done by a violent thinning of its 

 branches. I well know that I have done great injury to more 

 than one old tree by an attempt to bring it to an ideal condition. 

 I have cut away parts that were fruitful to admit light to the 

 fruitless branches ; but, as may be expected, after twenty 

 years of waiting I find these branches (except at their extre- 

 mities) fruitless still. I have thus not mado the barren parts 

 fruitful while I have reduced the fruit-proJucing parts of the 

 tree. I was only a radical then and proceeded in a radical 

 manner. I am older now, and have found that we cannot make 

 the interior of a tree fruitful except by a full exposure of all 

 its parts to the light and air from the first years of its exist- 

 ence. 



An isolated old tree hearing heavy crops of useful fruit 

 should be gently pruned by cutting away only unfruitful parts, 

 leaving its outer surface as Nature has formed it, and the tree 

 itself will present more leaves to the light and to a more profit- 

 able purpose, than we can effect by the " assistance" of thin- 

 ning. Thai is what failures as well as successes have taught 

 me in regard to old trees standing alone and exposed. 



With trees that are sheltered, as in large orchards, danger 

 by overthinning is not so great. Indeed, if a liberal thinning 

 of the branches in such cases is followed by another important 

 operation much good may be accomplished. If we can admit 

 the light more freely we foster a shorter-jointed and more 

 fruitful growth on crowded trees. But pruning alone will not 

 do this ; to bo effectual it must be followed by the supple- 

 mental work of rubbing. Perhaps that is not an orthodox 

 term and may not be found in the " Gardener's Dictionary " 

 of the young professional ; never mind, it is still expressive of 

 the useful practice of an old practitioner. Suppose a man in 

 the winter mouths takes one-third of the wood from an old 



