366 JOURNAL OF THE ROYAL HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



rail at a time, chiefly for Scotland. There are, of course, the further 

 instances of the Broccoli of Cornwall and the early Potatos of the Cheddar 

 Valley, though in these perhaps climate has more to do with the associa- 

 tion of crop and locality. 



In thinking of market vegetables one's thoughts naturally run to that 

 fearful and wonderful production, the seedsman's catalogue. How many 

 nightmares has it been guilty of inflicting upon bewildered market- 

 gardeners, when it arrives at the opening of the year, with its " novelties," 

 "select strains," and " proved specialities," flanked by superlative 

 testimonials, and supported in reserve by lifelike photographs ! In the 

 catalogue before me there are 116 different varieties of Peas named, 

 29 varieties of Beet, 60 varieties of Lettuce, excluding subdivisions. Of 

 course, like your hotel wine list, all are distinct, all are in stock, and no 

 fortifying is resorted to. It is a peculiar thing that certain varieties of a 

 vegetable will sell on one market and not upon another. As an instance, 

 the Maltese Cabbage Lettuce is a favourite in the Midlands, where the seed 

 is sold, I am told, by the hundredweight, but in London this variety is 

 unsaleable, being regarded as too coarse ; the smaller and more compact 

 varieties, such as ' All the Year Round,' 1 Yauxhall Defiance,' ' Trocadero,' 

 or 1 Chavigny,' being preferred by the dainty appetites to be catered for in 

 the metropolis. 



A word may be said here about the inordinate rage for size. Why, 

 for instance, a gross, coarse, giant head of Celery with leaf-stems that eat 

 like rope yarn should be preferred to a crisp, nutty, fine-flavoured one, but 

 small, is difficult to understand ; or why a Parsnip which must be cut 

 before being cooked should be selected for its size, which must often 

 mean coarseness, is also a mystery. Are the flavour and quality of a bud 

 of Asparagus always in equal proportion to its size? Yet " best," in 

 market terminology, always means largest. The Londoner does seem to 

 know that a big Radish is pithy, and wisely prefers it culled when small, 

 and similarly he does not value a Beetroot for its size and close alliance 

 to the Mangold AVurzel, but selects those of best colour and fineness of 

 texture. In nothing among vegetables is this rage for size more remark- 

 able than in the Cos Lettuce. Large Cos Lettuces are always in 

 demand. No matter how hearty, clean, and well-grown a Cos Lettuce 

 may be, if it is not large it is not wanted while large ones are to be had, 

 even if they are a bit tough, over-ripe, or slack. Large Lettuces have 

 been selling this summer at Is. 6<7. a dozen when smaller ones could with 

 difficulty be disposed of at 6c/. the score of 22. And yet who ever saw 

 a Cos Lettuce sent to table whole ? In the case of the Tomato (which, 

 by the way, is, I suppose, strictly not a vegetable) the demand for fruit 

 of even moderate size comes not from the consumer but from the retailer, 

 who finds that with large Toinatos it is so difficult to get exact pounds 

 weight that lie frequently has to give over-weight, the practice not being 

 in vogue of charging for the additional ounce as it is among butchers. 



I li< " are <onu veg< tables which will probably never obtain a perma- 

 nent place upon the list of English market vegetables, owing to the 

 precarious nature of the English summer weather. During the few dry, 

 hot, and sunny summers we enjoyed previously to last year, the corn-cobs 

 of Maize and the fruit of the purple Egg-plant, called by the French 



