20G 



JODBNAL OF HOBTICULTUBE AND COTTAGE GAEDENEE. 



[ September 15, 1878. 



Not only is it necessary for destroying those which grow in soils 

 that are thoroughly saturated, bnt also for killing those growing 

 where there are no signs of moisture on the surface. The Marsh 

 Horsetails (Equisetum palustre, and E. limosum), and the 

 Great Biver Horsetail (E. fluviatile), must for their destruction 

 have the water in the soil drained off, and equally so the 

 Wood Horsetail (E. sylvaticum), and Corn Horsetail (E. ar- 

 vense). The latter, especially, though often abundant on light 

 shifting sands, is doomed to destruction when the soil is effi- 

 ciently drained. 



Again, in low wet soils there is often a preponderance of 

 semi-aquatic Grasses and allied plants, that in a great measure 

 yield to draining. TheCarex family, the Bushes (Juncus), and 

 many others, owe their existence to moisture in the soil, mois- 

 ture more than the soil would retain had it an outlet by the sub- 

 soil. Drain the ground where those are, and they disappear. 



It would be useless enumerating all the plants of which 

 draining assists in freeing the soil, but I must not pass over 

 Thistles, Docks, and several others with root stems that pene- 

 trate to a great depth, and need for their free, vigorous growth, 

 moisture in the soil, and that to a greater extent than is bene- 

 fioial to cultivated plants. 



The casual observer will have noticed that the natural vege- 

 tation occurs in patohes of one species of plant in a place, or if 

 there are several, one of them is more vigorous than the others. 

 Now, if we were to drain the ground that grows a great variety 

 of plants naturally, it does not follow thr.t we should destroy 

 every plant, but on the contrary, whilst we destroyed some, 

 others would be invigorated. Fortunately there is no cultivated 

 plant, in this country at least, that is not improved by being 

 grown in well-drained ground; such ground improves every 

 crop in quantity and quality, and entirely changes the character 

 of the natural vegetation. Indeed, so beneficial is draining to 

 us in cultivating the soil, that no oneonght to neglect it. It is 

 but seldom that the agriculturist negleots it; but many gardens, 

 and especially small gardens, are not drained at all, or very in- 

 efficiently, the weeds grow remarkably strong, and many plants 

 are lost every year from the wetness of the soil. Fruit trees 

 are barren, their growth sappy, or the branches moss-covered. 

 The cause is attributed to bad soil into which the roots have 

 struck, whereas it is all due to the water not having a means of 

 escaping from the subsoil. Measures are taken to keep the 

 roots from descending into the cold, wet subsoil, but no thought 

 is given to the faot that they are wholly unnecessary, the sub- 

 soil were rendered dry by f indent drainage. 



Trains to be of service should be deep. The rain must enter 

 by the surface, pass through the soil as if it were a sieve, and 

 he freely carried off. The water should be attracted, as it is by 

 drains, from the Burfaoe to the roots, and not allowed to remain 

 there and render the soil a wet, cold, inert mass. Experience 

 points to 1 feet as the most suitable depth for drains. At that 

 depth they are beyond the reach of any cultivated plant. — 

 G. Abbey. 



(To be continued.) 



line below our drawing of the insect magnified. The fore wings 

 are reddish brown, in bands of various degrees of darkness. 

 The hind wings are dusky. It deposits its eggs, probably, 

 upon the branches, where they remain all the winter. The 

 caterpillars are most frequently found upon the Apricot, but it 

 also infests the leaves of Pear trees. 



INSECTS INJURIOUS TO THE PEAR TREE. 



No. 5. 



Narrow-winged Bed Bar Moth. 



tortrix angustiorana, dltula angustiorana, p.t3bisca an- 

 gustiorana. 



In an early volnme we warned all cultivators of wall fruit, as 

 soon as they observed in May one of the leaves rolled up, to 

 destroy the little caterpillar within the roll, and to watoh for 

 others, because the eggs of the moth from which that caterpillar 

 oame continue to hatoh for several weeks. That moth is the 

 Narrow-winged Bed Bar. These caterpillars appear during 

 May and June ; they are about half an inch long, are pale 

 yellowish green, and with the head brownish yellow. A few 

 bristles are scattered 

 over the body. It is a 

 very aotive caterpillar, 

 wriggling about in most 

 varied contortions when 

 distnrbed.crawlirgwith 

 eqnal faoility backwards 

 and forwards, and let- 

 ting itself down by a 

 single thread from its 

 mouth. It passes into the state of a brown shining chrysalis, 

 rolled up in the same leaves, and from this the moth comes 

 forth iu July. The molh is very Email, not longer than the 





SUMMER DROUGHT. 



When autumn rains are falling heavily, or spring's late 

 showers appear unwilling to cease, we think not of the sum- 

 mer drought, or its moisture-consuming power ; of the dry 

 warm atmosphere which comes to us as though it had passed 

 over burning plains, and which day and night surrounds every- 

 thing. Yet all vegetation is hastened, or retarded, or suffers 

 from its too long continuance. The summer drought changes 

 all too rapidly the outward aspect of nature ; beneath its in- 

 fluence the young growth loses its soft tender green, and 

 assumes, as if by the touch of some fatal spell, the grey ma- 

 tured look of autumn — brown leaves, sap- dried before their 

 time, miDgle with summer's brilliant colours ; fruits ripen ere 

 they have half attained their size ; and Flora, living too fast 

 and working too hard, brings the end too soon. The Bose-bud 

 withers as it opens, and the forced seed-vessels ripen and push 

 away the beautiful petals before they have half enjoyed their 

 blooming season ; and the green grass is robbed of its verdure 

 and becomes dust-coloured like the dry soil which is moved 

 over it by every breath of wind. Stunted growth or cessation of 

 growth is everywhere to be met with, for little of real growth 

 can summer's heat accomplish apart from her twin helper 

 moisture. How we tire of the long bright sunny days, and 

 sultry cloudless nights! How man, and beast, and bird, and 

 tree, and flower sicken beneath the scorching heat ! Faded and 

 weary grows all the land ; the water sheds aredry in the hills, 

 and silent all the brooks in the valleys, and not a drop of 

 moisture lingers in the Calceolaria bags, and wild flowers are 

 not, and poor and withered are the numberless hosts of leaves 

 that crowd the Oak tree. The sheep climb the mountains, or 

 spread over the wolds, and seek in vain the moist sweet grass ; 

 and with an angry scream the rooks fly over the desert-like 

 pasture fields ; and the wild birds of the hills and woods forget 

 their fears and freely slake their thirst with the home birds. 



How we suffer from the summer's drought, and how anx- 

 iously we look for a change ! We watch the sky, the clouds, and 

 the winds ; we look out in the early morning and grieve that the 

 rain has not come, and in the eventide and hope it will ; and 

 in the dark hours of the night, when the breeze softly stirs the 

 forest trees, our thoughts are of rain. Long-believed-in signs 

 of a coming change vifit us, and thus keep hope alive within 

 our hearts ; bnt even the weathor prophets fail to read them 

 aright. Soft, feathery, white clouds adorn the blue sky, tenderly 

 veiliDg its brightness — "mare's tails " and "mackerel skies," 

 enough with their foreboding to dispirit one on the eve of an 

 exoursion j but the clouds melt away and leave only an in- 

 tenser blue, a heat more consuming in its power. Clouds rise 

 in the east and in the west, they travel with the wind and 

 against it, they meet in angry contest, but a few muttered 

 thunderings and they part and go their separate ways in peace, 

 the dispute settled, and to our loss no rain-tears fall. Threaten- 

 ing winds drive right into the " Noah's ark," boldly painted 

 on a sea of blue, and we point in rapture to the unfailing sign, 

 sure that the deluge will come ; but the wind lulls, the ark 

 goes on in safety, and the rain descends not. Nearer and 

 nearer to our vision comes the distant landscape — woods, and 

 fields, and cottsge homes, and homes of prayer, all clearly 

 revealed to us in the soft evening light ; and we take heart of 

 hope again, for all tigns of change cannot surely fail. Yet day 

 after day comes and goes the same; only drier and more irritat- 

 ing becomes the atmosphere, more parched and desolate the 

 land, more autumn-like the summer foliage. The sun rises in 

 glory, and travels in undiminished brightness through the blue 

 immensity, and sets among vapour-clouds of gorgeous colour- 

 ing, that turns each wayside weed, and blade of grass, and giant 

 tree to burnished gold ; but a grey morning follows the yellow 

 sunset, and our momentary hopes are gone. 



Then we look nearer home for signs of approaching change 

 of weather that may be trusted in, and we take comfort, nay, 

 almost pleasure, out of suffering, and fail to sympathise fully 

 with the rheumatio pains of the long-ago injured limb, in the 

 certainty there is clamp in the air. rain bringing relief at last. 

 All day the sun shines, all night the stars ; but in the first 



