April 23, 1890.] 



Garden and Forest. 



199 



exhibiting mere branches in leaf and flower had left nothing 

 untold, botanists would have been excused for treating them 

 as one species. The essential differences between them, apart 

 from considerations of geographical distribution, reside in cer- 

 tain strong characteristics of the flowers and fruits. The sole 

 recommendation of the old and true R. aureum, or Missouri 

 Currant, is the delicious spicy fragrance of its flowers. R. 

 tenuiflorum, all the way from middle California to the British 

 boundary and across the country to Colorado, has flowers en- 

 tirely scentless. Its berries are large, of a beautiful amber 

 color, deepening to a paler than cherry-red in fullest maturity, 

 and have an acidulous taste without aroma. Those of the 

 real R. aureum are smaller, black, sweet and with a decided 

 black currant flavor. 



The Pacific species grows ordinarily to twice or thrice the 

 size of the eastern, and its fruit is valued, even in the wild 

 state, in those remote, still sparsely-settled and little cultivated 

 parts of northern California where it abounds. It is probable 

 that under cultivation it would rise to a place of some import- 

 ance. But, as aboye intimated, it is entirely destitute of that 

 one quality, the rich odor of the flowers, which has made its 

 more easterly ally a universal favorite in spite of the worthless- 

 ness of its fruit. 



University of California. & award L. Ureene. 



The Woods in Spring. 



WHEN the army of white-throats and Savannah sparrows, 

 in their migrations, have flown farther northward, and 

 the "chippies" have become more abundant; when a few 

 "chebecs" and " towhees " are heard introducing themselves 

 to the passers-by, just before the bobolinks and orioles ar- 

 rive, it may be called the misty season in the woods. You can 

 name no special date when it is at its height, for it comes from 

 the buds so gradually and ends in the larger, coarser spray 

 with such slowly measured growth ; but while it lasts the view 

 of the young foliage, lingering on the tangled network of twig 

 and branch, like variously colored scraps of vapor, is, indeed, 

 charming. 



No system of color language can describe accurately the 

 various shades of the early dresses of the trees. Many of the 

 hues are softened and subdued, in contrast to the gaudy colors 

 of autumn. Green, in its many tints, is from the first put on nu- 

 merous species. How becoming are the Alders and the Birches 

 in their fresh, new trimming ! The leaves of the Oaks, Maples 

 and Hickories, just unfolding from the buds and flecking the 

 sky with the mellow stains of yellows, reds and browns, are 

 especially attractive. The conditions and surroundings of the 

 trees have much to do in painting the foliage before the chlo- 

 rophyll has dyed it for its summer's work. The saplings and 

 sprouts of the White Oak are decked with scraps of maroon 

 velvet cut into the regular established patterns, while the leaves 

 of older trees of the same species, on higher ground, are often 

 the color of amber or of half-ripe lemons. The evenly plicated 

 leaves of the Wild Cherry shine like bronze in the sun. Here 

 and there the Large-Toothed Aspens have arrayed themselves 

 in white silky-wool attire, and, as they rise like clouds in fleecy 

 masses amid the early spring foliage of the hard-wood trees, 

 they form very conspicuous objects in the forest. 



How exquisitely tender and transparent is the new leaf of 

 the American Basswood ! I can hardly bear to look through 

 it at the sun. When it is closely laid on paper, writing 

 can easily be seen through. Viewed in the light it assumes a 

 yellowish cast, and you not only see the slender forked veins, 

 extended at regular intervals from the midrib, but hundreds 

 of gossamer cross lines, like those of spiders' webs, which 

 form the frame-work of the delicate structure. Its shape is 

 beautiful, with sweeps and curves, and its edges are fringed 

 with the finest teeth. What special wood fairy has been ap- 

 pointed to give it such elegant proportions and to cut all of 

 the leaves of the Tiliacece into the peculiar oblique, heart- 

 shaped pattern ? The largest lobes at the bases are invariably 

 placed toward the young shoots, and the leaves are arranged 

 upon them so as to secure the greatest amount of light and air. 



The Beeches answer to the call of the sun a few days later 

 than the Bass woods. A copse yonder on the hill-side is just 

 beginning to put out its broidery. Little mouse-ears of leaves, 

 clothed with silken hairs, are unfolding from the brown, 

 rusty scales and lengthened buds ; yet, curiously enough, the 

 leaves on the twigs of a few saplings that touch the boles of 

 the larger trees are already more than half grown ! Was it the 

 partial shelter in which the buds were placed during the winter 

 that caused them to gain such a start ? The Beech-leaves are 

 formed into the most elegant designs. How fresh and beau- 

 tiful these premature ones appear against the smooth, ashen- 

 gray bark of the old trunks. They are ovals, pointed and evenly 



scalloped. The straight prominent veins on the under sur- 

 faces, running out to the very tips of the salient teeth, are 

 drawn as with a rule. The arrangement of these ribs, how- 

 ever, is inclined to vary. In some specimens these nerves 

 are opposite along the basal half of the midrib, but become 

 alternate toward the point. Some are alternate at the base, 

 but become opposite half way up, while on other leaves the 

 ribs are alternate or opposite throughout the entire length. 



The Dogwoods, or Cornels, too, are putting out. There is a 

 peculiar physiognomy about the leaves of the species, though 

 it can hardly be described, which at once shows to the observ- 

 ing rambler their Cornus blood. All of them have entire mar- 

 gins and are oval-shaped and pointed. 



Along the swampy shore of a pond, where on one side rises 

 abruptly a rocky slope studded with tall, straight Chestnut- 

 trunks, I have paused to note a small tree among the boulders 

 which is not very common in the northern and middle New 

 England woods. It is the flowering Dogwood, Cornus jlorida, 

 a big brother to the dwarf Bunch-berry. With the exception of 

 its humble relative it is the only species here that has 

 its flowers in close heads. These heads are surrounded by 

 four large snow-white, corolla-like, heart-shaped leaves that 

 appear some time before the little greenish yellow flowers open, - 

 and, when viewed amidst the young foliage or against the gray 

 background of boles, ledges and the dead leaves of the forest- 

 floor, present a very striking appearance. It is a notable ex- 

 ample of those kinds of plants that throw out their signal flags 

 to the honey gathering insects. It knows the importance of 

 showy advertisement. Were it not for these conspicuous 

 flyers the early bees and moths would pass them by unno- 

 ticed, and thus, by the neglect of cross fertilization, render the 

 seeds and fruit less healthy and vigorous. But how quickly 

 the leaf builders work. Before May has ended many of the 

 leaves have attained their full growth and spread themselves 

 along the branchlets in huge green flakes and slanting pinna- 

 cles that swing in the breeze as if they delighted in their lux- 

 uriousness ; every shrub and tree yields foliage after its 

 kind. There are patterns of hearts, rounds, ovals, spattels, 

 spears and shields. Some are smooth and polished, others 

 hairy and crimpled, some with their edges entire or cut into 

 hundreds of different pretty borders ; each species of plant 

 taking on the form, size and texture of leaf according to its 

 " peculiar structure and organization, habits and require- 

 ments." 

 Boston, Mass. Horace hunt. 



The Peruvian or American Potato. 



HPHIS most important and valuable of the edible Solanacece is 

 ■*■ very erroneously denominated " Irish " in our census re- 

 ports. Virginia has a certain claim to be considered the 

 mother of the White Potato, but the vegetable in its present 

 improved state owes more to its Peruvian and Chilian parent- 

 age than its Virginian. Much is also due to changes produced 

 in the tuber by different climates and soils, which are in them- 

 selves a curious and interesting study. That our present 

 Potato is a development from one wild ancestor having sev- 

 eral sub-varieties marked by differences in the size and color 

 of the tubers and in their habits of growth, has been estab- 

 lished by experiments of recent years in our own country by 

 the developing of a pea-sized tuber to one of a pound in 

 weight in seven summers. The existence of sub-varieties will 

 be learned by growing wild tubers from California, Texas, 

 Arizona, Mexico, Peru and Chili, as has already been done in this 

 vicinity by Mr. Burnet Landreth. It was discovered that the 

 plants were generally white blossomed ; some were dark green ; 

 others light green; some quite prostrate in growth, and others 

 more erect; and what is quite important, that the Colorado 

 beetle would not eat them. The tubers were yellow-fleshed, 

 white-fleshed, oval, round and obovate. 



The Peruvian Potato was first discovered in a growing state 

 by the Spanish invaders of Peru, who saw it under cultivation 

 in the vicinity of Quito. Peru, at that time, had an ocean front- 

 age of about 2,500 miles, and included Ecuador, Peru as it is 

 now, and a large part of Chili. The government was a theoc- 

 racy and the people were devoted to agriculture; bringing 

 water by aqueducts where required, using irrigation and fer- 

 tilizing with guano, which then covered the coast islands until 

 they were white and mound shaped. The birds producing 

 this fertilizer came at certain seasons by the million and were 

 protected by the government. Never, perhaps, was the ter- 

 race system of mountain agriculture brought to a greater de- 

 gree of perfection or more extensively used by any people; 

 and the sides of the Cordilleras were zoned with vegetation, 

 varying in character according to the climate given by differ- 

 ent degrees of elevation above the sea level. On these leveled 



