162 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
[{ August 29, 1878. 
At any point along the foot of a slope of a valley which it is 
desirable to close for shelter or to exclude some unpleasant 
object, turn any suitable portion where the soil is good to 
account by planting Oriental Planes and the Black Poplar 
(Populus nigra). both fast-growing trees, which must be planted 
singly or in bold clumps, which when well placed are very 
telling ; but I do not like to see this Poplar among other trees, 
for it soon assumes such gigantic proportions as to dwarf 
every other tree near it. No tree is more profitable for timber 
in a tolerably deep soil, and for certain purposes it commands 
a good price. 
Bold hillsides planted entirely with Larch. Spruce, and 
Scotch Fir are a common sight, but such a style of planting } 
could only be admissible when profit was the sole considera- 
tion. Deciduous trees in variety must always find favour in 
the eyes of an artist or person of cultivated taste ; and in plant- 
ing for effect we give due weight to the freshness of new spring 
foliage, the beauty of bursting bud and opening flower, the 
glorious autumnal tints, the play of light and shadow among 
the various forms of foliage, as well as the warmth and beauty 
of evergreen Conifers in winter, when the bare branches of 
deciduous growth would if seen alone present a forlorn aspect 
quite the reverse of ornamental— EDWARD LUCKHURST. 
FAILURES IN ROSE GROWING AND SHOWING. 
‘SOME years since a writer in the Journal complained that so 
many people wrote of their successes, but none of their failures. 
I endeavoured at the time to supply the omission, and detailed 
my failure in fruit cultivation. I can now speak with feeling 
of another failure which pricks me to the very quick—a failure 
in growing my own paiticular flower, the idol of my life, and 
the subject of my labour and thought for ten years. 
There is an old Latin proverb which when translated says, 
«Tet not the cobbler go beyond his last.” If he does I pre- 
sume he only meets with failure: but I have stuck to my last, 
and the harder I haye kept to it and the longer I have practised 
my trade the worse craftsman have I become. This year my 
Roses have done so very badly that neither with Teas or Hybrid 
Perpetuals have I secured one first prize. I only showed at the 
Crystal Palace, Hereford, and South Kensington : but seconds 
and thirds were the utmost I got, and except at a little local 
show I have never seen a first-prize card on my stand. 
What is the reason of my want of success? In the first 
place the competition now at first-class shows is enormous. 
It is true it was always great, and that I haye secured first 
prize for forty-eight varieties at the Crystal Palace in former 
years; but still I think it is greater than it used to be. If 
Mr. Baker is in his usual form he is almost invincible. He 
has proved this on many occasions, and this year he is again 
Facile princeps the king of the amateurs. But now we have a 
giant from the heavy soil of Hereford who has only shown for 
afew years. If Mr. Baker is Gog, Mr. Jowitt is Magog. 
It is almost a certainty that these two are first and second 
at any show; then comes Canon Hole, who once was 
monarch of all he suryeyed. He must be third at least on all 
occasions, and after these great leaders of the fight come the 
Rey. E. N. Pochin, John Hollingworth, and several more. All 
have good soils, all have right trains, and all have burning 
enthusiasm in the cultivation of the queen of flowers. I cer- 
tainly possess the last qualification, but I am destitute of every- 
thing else. 
As to soil, I do think my soil is the poorest, most heartbreak- 
ing stuffever seen. A bantam cock when airing himself among 
my Manettis amuses himself with pulling them up with his 
spurs. We scarcely dare put a hoe among the Roses for fear 
- of pulling them up. The ground cracks in dry weather, and 
do what we will with moving the soil we cannot keep it from 
cracking. The manure we put on runs away through the flints 
and does hardly any good, and we are overrun with rabbits. 
“JT think,” said one of my farmers, ‘‘I shall have to leave this 
parish. Iwant some land that will hold some dressing ; besides, 
my teeth are getting worn out, so I must go.” “Teeth! What 
has the land to do with your teeth?” Iask. “Why, sir, Ishall 
starve to death, for I skall not be able to pick the bones of the 
rabbits.” 
Think what it must be to have to keep a man tread, tread, 
treading all day long to induce the Rose roots to lay hold of 
the soil ; think what my soil must be when I have to place both 
feet on the roots when 1 cut a bloom for fear the knife should 
not cut the bloom but pull up the whole plant. This has often 
occurred with me. ’ 
a =, 
Then as to trains. There is no train on our miserable line 
(the sleepy London and South-Western) which leayes Exeter 
later than five o’clock, Think of that for a great trunk line 
running from London to Plymouth, and not to haye a later 
train than one leaving Plymouth at two and Exeter at five. 
Consequently I have to cut my blooms fifteen hours before 
Mr. Baker, who travels by the Great Western mail ; and Canon 
Hole can cut even later. 
So to sum up, I have no soil to grow Roses in worthy of the 
name; I cannot get any growth, so that my blooms have 
neither substance nor strength to bear a long journey; and to 
crown all I have to cut them thirty hours before they see the 
judge. 
“But when you used to be first how did you manage it?” 
someone may ask. ‘ Had you not the same difficulties to con- 
tend with? Why, if you once did it, cannot you do it again?” 
This is a very fair question, and one perhaps difficult to 
answer. The only satisfactory reason Ican give isthis : When 
first I came here I saw it would be hopeless to grow Roses in 
the soil, so I removed it and brought good soil from a distance, 
but the expense was enormous. For one winter a farmer had 
three what are called “putts,” or two-horse carts, at work all 
day hauling soil. Whilst the virtue of the new soil lasted I 
could get blooms, but now it has become stale and I cannot 
afford to replace it, so I am obliged to go on in the poor worn- 
out soil and do the best I can. é 
“Give it up,” says one. “ Why wear acollar that wrings?” 
says another. ‘Try some other flower that ‘vill take kindly to 
your soil, and leave the Roses to others.” I cannot doit. I 
must grow Roses whether good or bad. They are the most 
glorious flowers of all, and the objects of my greatest admira- 
tion. If any brother rosarian who reads this feels any sympathy 
with me, and can advise me or help me in any way, I hope he 
will do so. The only thing I can think of is to get some clay 
and mix it with my light soil, but this will be a difficult matter 
to manage. The longer I live the more am I convinced of the 
futility of growing Roses in the same soil for a period of more 
than two or three years. Mr. Baker does it, it is true, but he 
gives a portion of his soil a thorough rest for a year every now 
and then ; and he is blessed with a very rich red soil, which 
puts you in a good humour even to lookat it. If one only could 
do it we ought to break up a piece of pasture every year for our 
Roses, and grow other crops on the former pieces: but where 
are we to get the pastures? No landlord will allow his pastures 
to be broken up. It makes one laugh in derision at the advice 
given by writers on floriculture, who say when speaking of a 
compost for any flower, ‘Take the top spit of an old pasture, 
if where Cowslips have grown so much the better.” But where 
in the world are we to get the top spit of an old pasture? It is 
like telling a starving beggar to sit down at the feast of alder- 
men and then he will enjoy himself. Even the sides of the 
roads are now claimed by the roadmenders. You cannot get 
fresh soil except at a ruinous cost. 
Such are a few of the difficulties which haye made my Rose 
showing a failure this year, and which have turned me into a 
—WYLD SAVAGE. 
GRAPES SCALDING. 
WITHOUT going into the whole of the principles inyolyed 
in the consideration of this question, it may prove interesting 
to those who are troubled by their Grapes scalding to note my 
own experience with Lady Downe’s here. 
The vineries are old, “with the old-fashioned system of 
heayy rafters, close sashbars, and small squares.” The system 
of ventilating pursued is of the freest—a current of air at all 
times during the growing season playing through the houses. 
Early in the morning during warm summer weather the venti- 
lators are opened to their full extent, and the whole of the 
doors are open. Ventilation is not reduced till the sun has 
left off playing on the houses. With regard to the amount of 
atmospheric moisture supplied, I am inclined to believe that 
no Grapes are grown with less. ‘he Grape Vines are not 
syringed at any season, nor is there any moisture applied to 
any surfaces as borders, paths, or walls inside the vineries at 
any time, save when the borders are being watered or what 
may be spilt in watering plants early in the season. In order 
further to secure against scalding this season the pipes haye 
been heated in dull weather. Under the above treatment 
Grapes which used to shank badly are all but cured of that 
disease. Golden Champion finishes to perfection, and withal 
in one division I cannot grow Lady Downe’s without scalding. 
