808 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
r April 21, 1881. 
more full and rich in illustration of this than written history 
could well be are the interesting revelations which the Auricula 
makes to the raiser of seedlings. 
In them the history of the past will repeat herself in varied 
retrospect, and among those that must he discarded as missing 
the standards they were meant to equal or excel are many whose 
faults are but tracings of their derivation towards its distant 
source. They show how petals now substantial, round, and flat, 
had been flimsy, frilled, and pointed, the white meal thin and ill- 
defined, the curious edge of green a slight and broken rim. 
History.— In a glance at the history of the Auricula there 
comes, of course, the interesting question of its first introduction 
into England. When is perhaps not so exactly known as where, 
on which point there is the evidence of well-kept local tradition 
corroborated by local evidence that its early English home was 
especially Lancashire. 
It is known that Flemish weavers in woollens, driven from their 
country by persecution for their faith’s sake, settled about 1570 
at Norwich, Ipswich, and in Lancashire villages in the neigh¬ 
bourhood of Rochdale and Middleton. As things of home too 
dear to leave behind them, these refugees brought with them their 
favourite flowers, the Tulip and Auricula. It is no matter for 
surprise that for about fifty years after this we have no record 
of Auricula culture. These early growers would doubtless for a 
time be shyly looked upon as aliens, and it would lead them to 
keep their occupations and interests a great deal within the bounds 
of their own communities ; but in 1725 we have evident proof 
that the culture of the Auricula was established in Lancashire. 
Parkinson in his “Theatre of Plants,” 1610, names twenty-five 
varieties of Auricula Ursi, or Beare's Ears, or French Cowslips. 
They are described by colours such as Heaven’s “ blew,” striped 
and double purple, blood red, sundry blushes, paper white and 
yellowish white, &c. In an old manuscript of 1732, and which 
was published in the “ Florist” many years ago, Beare’s Ears or 
Auriculas were quaintly classed as “ pures,” probably what we 
should call seifs ; “ flakes or stripes,” which I confess I do not 
recognise by the description ; and also “ bizarrs,” spoken of as 
admirably variegated with meal and colours, and raised in England 
or brought from thence. 
Auriculas were grown abundantly in the Lancashire districts 
until about 1830, when a great change in the habits of the people, 
who were hand-loom weavers, began to take place. Steam power 
and the factory system were being developed about 1825, and 
during the transition from hand to powerloom weaving, those 
whose bread “ came through the shuttle eye ” felt the change 
severely, and numbers of them were for a time in great distress. 
From the handloom that filled the long window they could now 
and again in the day break their time and work longer at night, 
and in this way their favourite flowers received the most constant 
attention, which at the same time refreshed the toiler himself 
with a healthful winsome recreation. But the long peremptory 
hours of a factory day rendered all this impossible. The great 
hard-featured mills grew up over green fields and garden grounds, 
mammoth organisms in brick and mortar, stone and iron, seem¬ 
ing, in their high chimney stalks, to send up a mighty hideous 
sort of flower stem, blossoming with black wreaths of smoke and 
a sulphurous perfume. Then the scattered villages grew and 
conglomerated into towns—the light of the old hand-weavers’ 
windows died out, and seemed to be concentrated in the gas¬ 
light glare from the long stages of windows in the mills—the 
familiar clatter of the handloom ceased, and the click of the 
shuttle that wove the silk or wool, as the tick of the old clock 
spun out the time. Under the changes of those days many ceased 
to grow their old favourites for lack of time or space, and also 
because they would not see the flowers languish under any unwonted 
neglect. Their little shows had nothing of the grand accessories 
that are here, but the very spirit of vitality was in these florists in 
their sincerity, patience, and love. The shows were held in the 
upper room of some old inn, and made a very lively sensation for 
miles around—a stir like a village wake or fair. What excitement 
it was for the anxious exhibitors assembled in the room below to 
wait for the winning plants being sent down from the “ upper 
element” where the judges were deciding fates ! In the later 
part of the day followed songs and anecdotes and florist gossip ; 
and at going-home time the assembly dispersed with the first- 
prize men conspicuous by a gleaming copper kettle in hand. 
Always kettles for the best flower in the room, and for the first in 
every class. Perhaps none was a prouder man that day than he 
who as a new beginner carried the “colt’s kettle ” home ! 
The Auricula has been a flower neglected for many years till 
lately. For inexorable causes such as those that parted it from 
old friends like these we can feel sympathy, but not for every 
reason that has made it now so scarce. Mr. Lightbody, whose 
name is so associated with Auriculas, used to tell me he had 
many wasteful customers who every spring would write for a 
relay of large plants, much as they might order spring bulbs 
from their seedsmen. They kept Scotland going as we kept 
Holland, for Lightbody who grew his own plants mostly in long- 
legged garden frames would have been again and again exhausted 
but for being able to fall back on large collections in different 
parts of the country. The Auricula is no such forgiving plant as 
the docile Hyacinth, that in return for having its heart scooped 
out like an Apple in the cook’s hand, will return a hundred¬ 
fold in good for evil, in repaying the unkindest cut of all with a 
handful of useful offsets. Auriculas grown only for a brief display 
and left to pine in neglect afterwards, are not in the hands of 
men worth the name of florist. 
I have spoken of the Auricula in Lancashire, for that is such a 
representative county in the history of the flower ; but fifty years 
ago we find by old records that almost every district in Yorkshire, 
Staffordshire, Cheshire, as well as Lancashire had a circle of 
Auricula growers. So, too, had many other counties. In Cam¬ 
bridgeshire lived Richard Headly, a renowned florist, and the 
raiser of one of our best Auriculas—George Lightbody. There 
were also shows and societies in the home counties, and many 
growers about London, w T here Page’s Champion and many other 
sorts of lesser fame were raised. 
But the Auricula is the oldest florist flower in precedence of 
excellence. There were good Auriculas when there were no Roses 
such as there are now ; when the Pelargonium was a thin imper¬ 
fect thing, the Cineraria a star far from her present magnitude ; 
when the Calceolaria had little of that fine inflation in which it 
now appears—a floral exposition of the ambitious frog, who in 
the fable perished miserably in the attempt to enlarge himself to 
something much above his sphere ; when Fuchsias were almost 
as they had been found, and the Gladiolus was yet but a botanical 
curiosity. 
I am indebted to the researches of one of our oldest florists, Mr. 
John Slater, for some interesting information about the earliest 
edged Auriculas. He has spent a long life in the very centre of 
Auricula culture, acquainted with many a grower and even raiser 
of the old sorts. Where I mention names I must ask you to attach 
more than a nominal importance to them, in that the Auricula 
being a derived flower not found anywhere, no vast importations 
and auction sales of it are possible. Names have therefore here 
the weight of species. The raiser is the introducer, and his little 
garden is a native country. The very names are largely suggestive 
of the estimation and good report in which the flowers were held 
by their raisers. Hence they are expressive of greatness and 
supremacy ; and we have— e.g., Champion, Hero, Conqueror of 
Europe, Rule All, Revenge, Bang Up, Glory, Incomparable, Free¬ 
dom, Imperator, Ringleader, Complete, True Blue, and so forth. 
Very many of the old florists were also Gooseberry growers ; 
and here, too, are names of like great import—Conquering Hero, 
Overall, Leader, Thumper, Crown Bob, London, Wonderful, and, 
not last, Roaring Lion. No one had the diffidence to name his 
new pet berry Second Fiddle or Knock Under ; and if he were a 
bird-fancier he did not select Tomtit or Humming Bird, but chose 
him Ostrich, Eagle, or Peacock. It is quite time that our news¬ 
paper press, from the large dailies to the small provincial weeklies, 
had their seeming ignorance of what the big Gooseberry really is 
revealed to themselves. It might be that no dish of the genuine 
berry had ever smiled on those editorial tables, or we should not 
have the big Gooseberry a gibe and synonym for that which is 
vapid and inflated. From the florist, however, has spread the 
desire for great names to the producers of excelling fruits and 
vegetables, and is now indulged in alike by the knights of Flora 
and Pomona, and of the presiding deity of the kitchen garden, 
Chloris the Goddess of Greens. 
(To be continued.) 
FRUIT-GROWING FOR MARKET. 
Like music, fruit-growing hath charms, not only to the longing 
amateur, but to the old practitioner whose years of abundance have 
been sufficiently numerous to enable him to say that the pleasures 
of hope are not always delusive in connection with it. Yet even 
he owns with a sigh of regret how often the promise of his teem¬ 
ing trees has been blighted by ungenial spring weather—so often, 
that had he depended upon some kinds of fruit for the means of 
subsistence he would long ago have been ruined. When, therefore, 
the culture of fruit for market is entered upon in good earnest 
every sort of fruit that is likely to answer should have a trial. 
Apples, Pears, Plums, Cherries, are justly accorded a leading 
position ; but what would the fruit-grower do when the blossom 
of his trees is destroyed by frost and cold wind, if he could not 
