351 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
[ October 16, 1881. 
Maiilen’s Blush, one of the best of the beautiful Rosa alba group ; aud 
though the result of this cross is undoubtedly a Hybrid Perpetual in al 
its leading characters, it teems to partake of the beauty of the other 
parent in a considerable degree. The variety is therefore doubly interest¬ 
ing for its own merits and its parentage. It is a vigorous grower, and 
appears to possess an excellent constitution. 
The woodcut, fig. 59 (for which we are indebted to Messrs. W. Paul), 
faithfully represents a cluster of blooms of this line variety. 
WEIGHT OF FRUITS. 
Some time ago a correspondent wrote asking the weight of fruits. Per¬ 
haps it may interest him to know that last year at Ardgowan Mr. Lunt 
grew Strawberries nine of which scaled 1 Ih., and six single berries weighed 
2 ozs. each. The variety was James Veitch; the fruits were gathered 
from plants grown in pots.— Caledonian. 
Observing in your paper a note about the weight of fruits, I had the 
opportunity (through the kindness of Mr. Scott the gardener) of looking 
through the houses of H. T. Morton, Esq., Biddick Hall, Fence Houses, 
a few weeks ago, and saw a Peach tree (Princess of Wales, four years old) 
which had a beautiful show of fruit, and am informed that eight of the 
largest Peaches averaged 12 ozs. each, the heaviest being 14 ozs., and 
the lightest 10 ozs. I also saw a young Nectarine tree about the same 
age which had a good crop of fruit, some of which weighed 8 ozs., which 
I considered about the best sample of fruit I had seen.—A Traveller. 
THE FARMER’S GARDEN. 
Farmers, as a rule, are but indifferent gardeners. We cannot 
belp noticing the fact in travelling through country villages, 
especially in the south of England. Where we should naturally 
expect to see farmhouses begirt with smiling gardens there is 
mostly but the stingiest display in the way of Rowers, and the 
kitchen gardens figure only as the commonest Potato and Cab¬ 
bage plots. Everything is there but the will and the skill; plenty 
of room, the best of loam from the parings of ditches and decaying 
tussocts, and mostly an abundance of manure. But with farmers 
the w'orld moves slowly, and the waggon runs from generation to 
generation in the same old rut. One reason of the neglect of the 
garden is a want of knowledge of its capabilities under skilful 
treatment. It ought to be an inexhaustible magazine of whole¬ 
some and nutritious food for the household. The “ gude wife,” 
to whom is generally due whatever little floral embellishment 
which surround the house, has to beg and pray of her lord and 
master for the little labour required to keep the garden in order. 
The farmer is jealous of his manure heap, and grumbles loud and 
long if he sees his handy man at work in the garden. But there 
is another aspect of the question. A farmer’s garden being 
mostly in close proximity to his house, ought to be the sug¬ 
gestive example of thorough cultivation of the soil, a pattern in 
its cleanliness, order, and productiveness of what his farm should 
be. It might be utilised also as a trial gi’ound for seeds and 
roots, but in any case it should afford a substantial addition to 
the family board. 
While travelling in Staffordshire last summer a capital speci¬ 
men of the British farmer entered the compartment where we 
were seated. He was evidently well to do in the world, and both 
physically and intellectually able to hold his own. What took 
our attention, however, was the splendid half-open blooms of 
General Jacqueminot with a leaf or two, and a couple of ears of 
green Wheat. It was as pretty and appropriate a buttonhole as 
a farmer need wish to wear. “ Object to smoking ? ” we inquire. 
“No.” “But you don’t smoke, sir?” “Yes, I do; just two 
pipes a day; one first thing, t’other last.” “Fond of flowers ?” 
we inquire. “Yes; I like a Rose.” “That’s a nice bud of the 
General?” “Middlin,” was the reply; “the General's a good 
Rose; if I’d only two Roses he’d be one and the other Glory 
Dijon. My first pipe’s in the morning in the garden ; I like to 
see the Roses open when the dew’s sparklin’ on the leaves in the 
pride o’the morning.” “Pretty good soil here?” v/e remark. 
“ Yes ; middlin good; rather heavy; but there’s heart in it when 
its well workel. Staying about here ?” he asked. “Yes; at the 
old house by the Poplars there.” “ What, Mr. Ellis’s ! my place 
is only a mile off, perhaps you’d like to look round; we’ve not 
much to see except a few Roses.” 
Next morning was the 1st of July, and when I called there 
was the scent of blossoming Bean fields and Honeysuckle and 
new-mown hay in the air. The farmer had his coat off budding 
some Briars, while a little lad and lassie held the shoots and bast 
for their father. The house, an old-fashioned roomy structure, 
was almost covered with creepers. A fine old Gloire de Dijon 
occupied about half the front, which faced east. Pyrus japonica, 
Cotoneaster, and a Jasmine occupied the other half. A gravel 
walk intersected the lawn, which was short and soft as velvet. 
On each side of the lawn were borders of old-fashioned herba¬ 
ceous plants interspersed with standard Roses. Two of the latter 
were the grandest specimens of ruga, a delicate and fragrant 
cream colour, we had ever seen. They are thirty-five years old, 
the heads 9 feet in diameter, and the branches allowed to droop 
naturally over a ring of iron wire. It was no unusual thing to 
see, about the third week in June, a thousand Roses in bloom at 
one time on each of these trees. The pruning consisted simply 
in cutting out the old branches, tying in the new shoots in their 
places. There were some beautiful arches of the same Rose over 
the path to the kitchen garden, and the same Rose was allowed 
also to ramble over a rustic arbour. We had almost forgotten 
to mention some picturesque old Apple trees, whose gnarled and 
lichened stems formed a natural and artistic ai’ch over the 
entrance to the garden. The gayest month in this charming 
old-fashioned place was April. The farmer was great in Poly¬ 
anthuses, Wallflowers, Daisies, Aubrietias, Anemones, and 
Tulips. 
To the right of the flower garden, and separated only by an 
herbaceous border dotted with fine old standard Roses, was the 
fruit garden, bordered with Roses, also standards. The farmer’s 
reason for growing his Roses in this way was simply to save 
himself the necessity of stooping. “ More convenient,” he said; 
“ you see I’m getting stout, else I don’t admire standards much. 
I like Roses on their own roots best, and there is no trouble in 
getting them from cuttings.” “Indeed!” we remark. “Well, 
1 put some proper stuff, loam and a little sand, into an ordinary 
box about a foot deep, water the soil well, let it settle for a week, 
and dibble in the cuttings thick, give them another watering, 
wait a day, and then glaze the box with a single sheet of glass, 
allowing no ventilation whatever. In seven or eight weeks, when 
most of them will be rooted, I lift the glass an eighth of an inch, 
and gradually increase the air supply till they are ready to plant 
out in October, having put them in at the end of July.” There 
were quarters of bush fruit and Strawberries in full bearing, and 
a few espalier Pears, which, however, he was about to remove, as 
they were uncertain croppers. 
The kitchen garden, which comprises an area of half an acre, 
was in a capital condition, free from weeds, and every inch of it 
utilised. The Brassicas were in great force, the Brussels Sprouts 
especially, magnificent. One peculiarity struck us with regard 
to the Cabbage tribe—we looked in vain for a trace of the mis¬ 
chievous cati-rpillar. On inquiry, we found that the little folk 
afore-mentioned were provided with nets, and paid certain head 
money with a view to the extermination of the butterfly. “ We 
don’t trouble,” said he, “ to catch the caterpillars, there are none ; 
we make their existence impossible by destroying the egg-layers.” 
Another peculiarity of the garden was that nothing was crowded, 
everything had abundance of air and light. Peas, of which there 
were some dozen splendid rows, were set G inches apart; Scarlet 
Runners in rings 4 feet in diameter; Broad Beans, a favourite 
vegetable with the labourers in harvest time, were promising a 
splendid crop; and Vegetable Mai’rows, growing on a bank 
sloping to the south, making enormous growth. The farmer 
cropped the whole of his garden, excepting the Potato plots, 
from his own seed beds, aud never admitted a new variety 
without submitting it first to a year’s trial in a quarter of the 
garden specially reserved for the purpose. This served aho as 
a nursery for raising herbaceous plants, aud Carnations, Poly¬ 
anthuses, Pansies, Sweet Williams, and Antirrhinums. Latterly 
he has taken ujp with the charming single Dahlias. 
“ You grow enough vegetables, perhaps, to supply your entire 
household?” we remark; “what labour do you employ upon 
the garden ? ” “ Well, we don’t grow all our Potatoes here, only 
the earlies and second earlies; and we’ve one man, a handyish 
chap, who manages the whole of it, and lends us a hand on the 
farm on any day we may want him. I reckon it costs us alto¬ 
gether about a guinea a week, and it’s worth at least two, lettiog 
alone the pleasure one gets out of it, and the enjoyment of the 
wife and youngsters; they are all fond of it.” A three-light 
frame was all the glass the farmer had, “and plenty, too,” he 
said, “but the missus will never rest till she gets a lean-to like 
the parson’s yonder. Will!” he shouted to his man, “yo can 
take half a dozen Cabbages home with you, and cut yoursen a 
Cowcumber; and rememb^er we send them hospital folks some 
flowers on Saturday morning.” 
Farmer Wilson, though old-fashioned in his tastes, or he 
would not allow the great clipped Yew tree to remain so long 
shutting out air and sunshine from his parlour windows, occa¬ 
sionally makes alterations in his flower garden. The long walk, 
for instance, which passes by the front of the house and bounds 
the flower and fruit garden on the west, stopped abruptly at a 
Privet hedge on the borders of a pond; beyond it was the 
