52 Commercial Gardening 



Gumming*. This exceedingly common, yet ill - understood disease 

 attacks Plums, Cherries, Peaches, &c.; in fact all the Prunese, or trees 

 bearing stone fruit, suffer. Small drops or tears of gum first show on 

 the trunk or branches, and gradually increase in size until quite large 

 masses of gum accumulate on the surface of the diseased parts. As the 

 disease progresses, the fruit also shows gumming, several large masses 

 being often present on a plum. 



The gum consists of the tissues which have become dissolved, owing 

 to the presence of an enzyme, and is not readily soluble in water, after 

 being exposed to the air. 



Probably no other single plant disease has been investigated more 

 frequently, or more thoroughly, than gumming, or "gummosis" as it is 

 frequently called, yet the various results are so diametrically opposed 

 that it may be concluded that the true cause is as yet unknown. 



If we concede that the cause of the disease is unknown it cannot be 

 expected that a cure can be given; yet, following the rule -of -thumb 

 method of first trying one thing then another, the fact has been arrived 

 at that the best-known remedy is common salt. This should be sprinkled 

 on the ground as far as the roots extend in the soil, at intervals, from 

 3 to 4 Ib. of salt being used in a year. [G. M.] 



3. SMUDGING 



What has been called "Smudging" is an exceedingly inelegant name 

 for the process of preventing damage to the fruit crop through frost in 

 early spring by means of a smother of smoke, or by maintaining the 

 temperature above the danger point with fires placed about among the 

 fruit trees, or by a combination of both. 



The idea has come from the exceedingly wideawake fruit growers of 

 America, whence most of the processes now on the market have also 

 been imported. From the valleys of California and the irrigated plateaux 

 of Colorado come wonderful accounts of whole populations turning out 

 at midnight, on electric summons from the mayors, and all, without dis- 

 tinction of rank or calling, joining in "fighting the frost"; returning, after 

 sunrise, begrimed and fatigued, but victorious over the foe that other- 

 wise would have swept the orchards clean of any promise of fruit. 



The prospect is an attractive one. The danger of losing all through 

 a spring frost has been a sort of nightmare to fruit growers as far back 

 as the days of Shakespeare, who puts into the mouth of the fallen Wolsey 

 the words: 



"This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth 



The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, . . . 



The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; . . . 



And then he falls. . . . 



And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 



Never to hope again." 



