52 THE WILD GARDEN. . 



ill tlie whole course of gardenmg no worse or more profitless 

 custom. Wlien winter is once come, almost every gardener, 

 altliougli animated M-itli tlie hest intentions, simply prepares 

 to make war upon the roots of everything in his shruhliery 

 border. The generally-accepted practice is to trim, and often 

 to mutilate the shrubs, and to dig all over the surface that 

 must be full of feeding roots. Delicate half- rooted shrubs 

 are disturbed; herbaceous plants are destroyed; bulbs are 

 displaced and injured ; the roots as well as the tops of shrubs 

 are mutilated ; and a sparse depo^Dulated asjiect is given to 

 the margins, while the only " improvement " that is effected 

 by the process is the annual darkening of the surface by the 

 upturned earth. 



Illustrations of these bad practices occur l)y miles in our 

 London parks in winter. Walk through any of them at that 

 season, and observe the borders around masses of shrubs, choice 

 and otherwise. Instead of finding the earth covered, or nearly 

 covered, with vegetation close to the margin, and each indi- 

 vidual plant developed into something like a fair specimen 

 of its kind, we find a spread of recently-dug ground, and the 

 plants upon it M'ith an air of having recently suffered from a 

 whirlwind, or some calamity that necessitated the removal of 

 mutilated l)ranches. Eough-pruners precede the diggers, and 

 bravely trim in the shrubs for them, so that nothing may be in 

 the way ; and then come the diggers, plunging their spades 

 deeply about plants, shrubs, or trees. The first shower that 

 occurs after this digging exposes a whole network of torn-up 

 roots. There is no relief to the spectacle ; the same thing 

 occurs everywhere — in liotanic gardens as well as in our large 

 West-end parks ; and year after year is the process repeated. 



