340 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 230. 



idle sinner, has gained a chance to earn his bread by tlie sweat 

 of his brow. 



HiiiRham, Mass. M. C. Robbtns. 



The Old-time Southern Garden. 



ONE of the most cliaracferistic features of the old-time 

 southern home of the better class was the garden. The 

 slovenliness of the farm stopped short at the garden-wall, 

 within which all was care and order. Rows were as straight 

 as rays of light, and walks antl borders were neatly kept. This 

 was woman's domain, and the women of the south were care- 

 ful even to scrupulousness. 



No seeds were bought. Such a purchase would have been 

 held an unpardonable extravagance. The few northern seeds 

 sold at the south were used in the town gardens. Every gar- 

 dener saved her own seed, which, after being carefully se- 

 lected and dried, were hung well up out of the reach of med- 

 dlesome bodies. If any housewife gained a reputation for the 

 excellence of any special vegetable she was pretty sure to be 

 called on to supply half the neighborhood gratis. Among the 

 sinall slaveholders the manual labor of the garden usually fell 

 on the female house-servants. On the larger farms there was 

 usually a regular gardener. One of the older men, who had 

 been retired from the heavier work of the fields, was usually 

 assigned to the garden, as one was also set to run the mill. If 

 so, he was sure to carry all the superstition of his race into his 

 new calling. The moon was omnipotent in the southern gar- 

 den. Everything, from the planting of a seed to the cutdng of 

 a bean-pole, was regulated by that exacting luminary. 



As the system of farming consisted in clearing fresh land as 

 fast as the old was worn out, many farmers used little or no 

 stable-manure in the fields, allowing all of it to go into the 

 garden. Fertilizers were unknown, but droppings from the 

 hen-house answered very well for forcing. The result of this 

 was to make the garden a real oasis amid its too often barren 

 surroundings. The variety of vegetables was not great, but 

 the quality was of the very best. Indeed, even after discounting 

 the enchantment of boyhood, there still seems to have been 

 an excellence in a few of those old-time vegetables which the 

 latter-day varieties have hardly attained, and certainly not sur- 

 passed. The originator of new varieties has been more intent 

 on looks than on real merit. This is certainly true of straw- 

 berries. I have tried in vain to obtain varieties as fine for the 

 table as those that grew in the old garden away back in the fif- 

 ties. In every remove from the wild strawberry something 

 seems to be lost in flavor, which no doubt arises from the de- 

 sire of the propagators to meet the popular demand for large 

 and showy fruit. 



Tomatoes had come to be generally grown, though not rel- 

 ished by all to the present extent. Egg-plants I never saw, nor 

 Okra till the seed was needed as a substitute for coffee during 

 the war. Parched and ground, they formed the most popular 

 beverage of those scant times. 



In the ante bellum garden the Asparagus-bed, which was an 

 almost sacred spot, responded liberally to the great attention it 

 received. An early cabbage was grown, surpassing in size 

 our present early sorts. Beets were excellent. Only one kind 

 of snap beans was raised, a small green one ; and one kind 

 of butter beans, also a small variety. Few persons relished 

 Parsnips or Carrots, though a few were generally grown. 

 Salsify, or vegetable oysters, as it was then always called, 

 was grown and eaten to a much greater extent than it is now. 



A flat cymbling, or summer squash, produced on a luxuriant 

 vine, which grew so fast that it was accused jocosely of chasing 

 the frogs out of the garden, was the kind in general use. 

 Pumpkins grown in the low-ground corn-fields were fed al- 

 most exclusively to stock. I never saw any cooked, or tasted 

 pumpkin-pie until after the war. 



Cucumbers and onions were grown in large quantities and 

 greatly relished by all, being eaten together in vinegar. Vast 

 quantities of cucumber pickles were also consumed. Almost 

 every garden, too, had its Artichoke corner, originally planted 

 by some long-forgotten hand, and now yearly producing 

 enough for pickles without replanting. Irish potatoes were 

 grown in abundance, usually in a " lazy bed," so named from 

 the fact that after planting no further work was required. This 

 bed was a plot in which its potatoes were put about a foot 

 apart each way, lightly covered with earth, and the whole was 

 then covered with leaves and litter to the depth of a foot or 

 more. The yield was enormous, the tubers growing often 

 above ground where the litter gave them full room to expand 

 to the utmost. 



Many " lazy beds " afforded potatoes from May till far on into 

 the following winter, the tubers being left in the bed and 



taken out as needed. This plan might still be followed with 

 profit to the gardener, especially at the south, where it is diffi- 

 cult to induce late-planted potatoes to grow, or to keep 

 the early ones through the summer and autumn, as they soon 

 shrivel and get bitter. As northern-grown potatoes for seed 

 cost us from $1.25 to $1.50 a bushel, many dollars might thus 

 be saved. 



One of the most charming features of the old southern 

 garden was its flowers. Except a few along the walk 

 to the front door of the dwelling-house, all the flowers on the 

 place grew in the garden proper. In the typical garden, i-oses 

 arched the gateway ; bushes of tumbling Snow-balls graced 

 the corners ; stately Pjeonies lorded over the Pinks, andTulips 

 that bordered the walks ; mocking-birds built and sang among 

 the constantly blooming roses, and all the old-fashioned 

 perennial flowers — many of them with quaint local names 

 — were found following each other in their season. Look- 

 ing backward through thirty years of hazy memories the old 

 garden seems yet a place of ideal attractiveness — the abode of 

 neatness and homely simplicity ; the spot in which every mem- 

 ber of the household took pride and delight. 



Kittrell, N. c. O. W. Blacknall. 



In the Company of Trees. 



TF one wishes to be taken into the intimate confidence of a 

 ■'■ great tree, and to get the fvfll enjoyment of its strength and 

 beauty, he should lie upon his back on the greensward be- 

 neath it, cross his arms under his head by way of pillow, and 

 let the eye climb slowly up the mighty trunk from root to top- 

 most limb. Thus have I lain beneath an ancient White Oak; 

 thus watched the infinitely varied play of light and shade 

 through the dense foliage ; thus noted the delicate tracery of 

 the leaves against the blue of the sky, and learned by heart 

 each wrinkle of its rugged bark. This is the way to study the 

 varying characteristics of trees, and to learn many a sylvan se- 

 cret only revealed to the real lovers of nature, upon whom she 

 has graciously bestowed eyes to see and the heart to feel her 

 beauty and her mystery. I have spent a summer afternoon 

 moving slowly from trunk to trunk, from Oak to Maple, from 

 Maple to Sour Gum, from Gum to Walnut, and then to Ash, to 

 Poplar, and back again to the old White Oak, most satisfying 

 of all. 



Sometimes the sun would smile upon me through an open- 

 ing in the boughs, or a light-hearted vireo warble a lullaby ; 

 the orioles whistle plaintively ; the friendly squirrels pretend to 

 scold, and scurry away from branch to branch, only to hasten 

 back to peep again and drop a tiny acorn on my cheek. The 

 great white clouds sailing far overhead ; a distant hawk 

 leisurely cleaving the air on his strong wings ; a few drops 

 from a flying scud — all these become stirring incidents, fraught 

 with healing and refreshment to the heat-vi'orn nerves and 

 weary brain of the house-dweller. Should the eyes close into 

 delicious slumber the great tree stands guard over its puny 

 visitor, filling one with a sense of security and of being cared 

 for as by a mighty and gentle nurse. 



Thus ha&Jt chanced to me to be overtaken by a summer 

 shower, and to be awakened by the first cool splash of rain- 

 drops upon my brow. The Oak had no need of mackintosh 

 and umbrella ; it was only necessary to turn the water-proof 

 side of its varnished leaves uppermost, and stand quietly to 

 take whatever came, strong in the security gained by a hun- 

 dred years of storm and sun. The foliage of the tree protected 

 its sleeping guest as long as possible, but now, with a gentle 

 warning splash, the drops fell more and more quickly ; little 

 streams ran down the trunk, following the corrugations in its 

 rough bark ; the leaves twinkled merrily as they shed their 

 burden of moisture in my face. Then the sun came out a 

 moment, and the whole tree sparkled joyously like the coun- 

 tenance of a friend who is bringing you welcome news. 

 Rose Brake. West Va. Danske Daiidridge. 



The Manufacture of Perfumery at Grasse. 



A CORRESPONDENT of the Gardeners' Chronicle has 

 written an account of an inspection of some of the flower 

 distilleries at Grasse, from which we extract a few of the inter- 

 esting facts. 



" In the production of rose essencefrom 10,000 to 12, 000 kilos 

 of roses are needed to make a kilo (two pounds and a fifth) of 

 the extract, which is worth 2,000 francs, or $400. This is such 

 a costly article that few firms can afford to handle it, and it is 

 usually made only on order given a long time in advance of 

 the time of manufacture in spring. The attar of roses made 

 in Turkey is stronger than that made in Grasse, but not so fine. 



