1861.J 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
this City, it is liable to be winter-killed. For 
an inside screen or division line, it is good. 
The Buckthorn, (Rhamnus catharticus,) wants 
only a supply of stronger thorns to put it at the 
bead of the list among hedge plants. It is a na¬ 
tive American, being found wild in the latitude 
of Albany. Experience finds it to be hardy as an 
oak through all our northern climates; it is not 
particular about the kind of soil, is subject to no 
diseases, is not infested by insects, and cattle 
seldom browse it, as the foliage has a very 
bitter juice which is exceedingly distasteful to 
them. In good land, it makes shoots four 
feet long in a season, yet it yields well to the 
pruning knife, and becomes very thick and stiff. 
It has no thorns until it is three or four years 
old and has been well sheared. We daily see 
hedges of this, which were all cut back for the 
first two or three years, and then steadily car¬ 
ried up, perfect walls of verdure, four feet thick 
and six feet high, quite stiff and thorny, and so 
dense that nothing can be seen through them. 
A bullock would doubtless push through them 
if he tried. Where this plant is used as a street 
fence, it is a wise precaution against the attacks 
of horned cattle, to run a light railing in front 
of it, say three feet high, and with a single nar¬ 
row board from post to post. Paint the posts and 
boards green, and it becomes almost invisible. 
The Osage Orange, ( Maclura aurantiaca ,) is 
strong and thorny enough for any body. It 
has been widely planted at the West, and is very 
useful on the prairies where fencing timber is 
scarce. It does not suffer from the borer, or 
mildew, or any disease that we know of: its ar¬ 
mory of thorns is absolutely terrific; and when 
it is well pruned from the beginning, it makes a 
handsome hedge, and one that is proof against 
inroads of thieving boys, pigs and poultry, and 
all sorts of trespassers. Yet, we regret to say, 
no Western traveler can fail to observe that full 
half the Osage Orange hedges there are failures. 
The plants grow very rampant, and, if not 
headed back vigorously at the start, soon get 
beyond all control; and of course, if the hedge 
is not started right, it can never be made right 
afterward. Farmers, with large grain fields to 
look after, are very apt to neglect their hedges. 
Then, loo, this plant is a gross feeder, and ex¬ 
hausts the land for several feet on each side. 
The leaves expand late in Spring and drop early 
in the Fall, but during their expansion are ex¬ 
ceedingly beautiful. North of latitude 40°, it is 
too tender for a permanent hedge. Through¬ 
out the middle States, the tips of last year’s 
growth are often killed back a foot or so by the 
Winter; but this saves just so much pruning. 
The Honey Locust (Gleditscliia triacanthos ).— 
Here, also, are thorns enough, and hardiness 
enough for any climate south of Quebec. Some 
object to it because it grows so lustily, and needs 
so much shearing; but this is not a valid objec¬ 
tion ; two annual clippings keep it in subjec¬ 
tion. It may be a little coarse for a hedge in 
front of a nice lawn and residence, but as a farm 
hedge in all the northern States, we know not 
its superior. To propagate it, sow the seeds on 
the line of the proposed fence, or set out year¬ 
ling plants, about six inches apart. Head it 
back once a year, in Spring, for the first three 
years: afterwards, prune twice a year, in June 
and September. 
Other deciduous plants are used for hedge¬ 
making, which sometimes answer tolerably well. 
The old English Hawthorn sometimes succeeds 
for several years—we have seen it thriving in 
some places for ten or twelve years—but it is 
not suited to our climate. The borer infests it 
often, killing out the plants in patches, and 
mildew blights the foliage. The Beech, Lilac, 
Hornbeam, Berberry, Willow, Upright Honey¬ 
suckle, Euonymus, Althea, and others, answer 
for inside divisions, but not for hedges proper. 
Evergreen Hedges have also their claims. They 
give character to one’s grounds, and mark the 
outlines and divisions in a visible manner all the 
year. They shield one’s garden and lawn from 
the cold winds of Winter and Spring. They do 
not have thorns, but if well pruned and then 
partially protected by a railing, or line or two of 
wire on the street side, they answer. 
The Norway Spruce (Abies excelsa). —Take 
plants about four feet high, and well furnished 
to the ground, set them about five feet apart 
from center to center, cut out the leaders and 
shorten in the side branches a few inches, and a 
good hedge will be the sure consequence. Of 
course, they are to have good soil, and to be 
pruned every year afterward like other hedges. 
The American Arbor Viive, (Thuja Occiden- 
tails), erroneously called white cedar, makes an 
excellent hedge. It can be had at a cheaper rate 
than any other; the plants are sure to grow un¬ 
der any decent treatment, and are hardy in 
Winter. Its dingy brown hue in the frosty 
weather is an objection to it. In that good time 
coming, when the Siberian arbor vitas shall be 
common and cheap, we shall have a much bet¬ 
ter plant than the native American. 
The Hemlock (Abies canadensis). —We can 
never tire of singing its praises. For an orna¬ 
mental hedge, nothing can equal it. A vivid 
green all the year; hardy far up into the Cana¬ 
das ; so dense, when pruned, that the smallest 
bird can not fly through it, nor see through it; 
growing, better than most plants, under the drip 
of other trees, and so manageable, that the prun¬ 
ing shears easily control it. Transplant on a 
showery day, the plants being two or three feet 
high; keep the roots from air and light, and 
mulch as soon as planted. There is some diffi¬ 
culty in moving young hemlocks, but not so 
much as many imagine. 
The Junipers, especially the Red Cedar, also 
the Holly, Yew, and Tree Box, are sometimes 
used, but they either die out in spots, or become 
so lank at the bottom, or suffer so badly from 
Winter frosts that they seldom give much satis¬ 
faction. They may do well elsewhere, but can 
not be recommended for our climate. 
«- - * * -- 
Greenwood Cemetery. 
If any of our readers visiting the City this 
Fall, have a part of a day to spare, we advise 
them to spend it in a jaunt to Greenwood Cem¬ 
etery. Crossing the ferry to Brooklyn, the horse- 
cars take you within a few steps of the Ceme¬ 
tery gate, for fjve cents. If you are strong-foot¬ 
ed and have plenty of time, you can traverse 
much of the ground on foot; otherwise, it 
would be better to take a carriage. (A car¬ 
riage for four persons or less, can usually be en¬ 
gaged at the gate to go through the principal 
drives, spending an hour and a half, or so, 
for one dollar, if the time and price be agreed 
upon before starting.) 
About three hundred and ninety acres, we be¬ 
lieve, are now owned by the Company, and 
nearly every square rod is kept under careful 
cultivation. It is said to be the largest establish¬ 
ment of the kind in this country or in Europe. 
Many of the original forest trees and shrubs 
have been preserved, and others, both native 
and foreign, have been added. No visitor will 
803 
fail to notice the beautiful weeping willows skirt¬ 
ing the ponds and trailing their branches in the 
sparkling water. These ponds, or miniature 
lakes—styled also, on the map of the Cemetery, 
Sylvan, Arbor, Valley and Osier waters—are 
among the finest features of the grounds. They 
are not dull, stagnant pools, but are kept fresh 
and moving by streams of water pouring in and 
out of them. The water of Sylvan lake is forced 
into an elevated reservoir, from which it is con¬ 
ducted in pipes to different parts of the grounds 
for irrigation and for the supply of fountains. 
One or two large and deep wells also have been 
dug, from which powerful steam engines raise 
water at the rate of three hundred gallons per 
minute, to furnish constant streams running 
into the ponds, and so keep them in healthy 
circulation. 
The roads and walks wind here and there in 
graceful curves, through all parts of the grounds. 
They are broad, well graded, and are kept in ex¬ 
cellent order. The roads, exclusive of the paths, 
extend nearly twenty miles ! They conduct the 
visitor to a great variety of views of the sur¬ 
rounding scenery—the Bay and Harbor of N ew- 
York with its forest of masts, its islands and 
forts, the shores of the Hudson and East rivers, 
New-Jersey, Staten Island, the Quarantine, to¬ 
gether with a view of the Atlantic ocean from 
Sandy Hook to Rockaway. 
Whoever is interested in the art of sculpture, 
will find much to engage his attention. Here, 
as elsewhere, he will see that slv?w is often in 
inverse proportion to real merit. Three of the 
most pretentious monuments bear the names, 
respectively, of a female tobacconist, a world 
wide advertiser of sarsaparilla, and a prosper¬ 
ous stall-keeper in Washington market. The 
sea-captain’s monument is another of the “lions” 
of the cemetery. This man, determined to have 
something original and striking, brought home, 
on one of his cruises, a massive block of Italian 
marble, and an Italian sculptor. He ordered 
the artist to “do” him of the size of life, copy 
ing his features exactly, and representing him 
standing and taking an observation of the sun 
with his quadrant. This work having been 
done to his liking, he bought a conspicuous lot 
in Greenwood, built a high pedestal in the cen¬ 
ter, and caused his marble self to be elevated 
upon it, as his monument. The old gentleman 
still survives, and takes much satisfaction in vis¬ 
iting the monument, and showing it to his friends. 
The story goes, also, that one day he went alone 
into the vault beneath the monument, and while 
there the door closed behind him, and, shutting 
with a spring, fastened him in. After spending 
about twenty four hours there, his cries caught 
the ear of some passer-by, and he was released ! 
But while there are a few things of this sort, 
calculated to excite mere curiosity, there is 
much beside, to awaken higher and better feel¬ 
ings. Here are noble monuments to firemen, 
to captains, pilots, and sailors, who sacrificed 
their lives in the endeavor to rescue others from 
death by flame and flood. Here are appropri¬ 
ate testimonials to eminent civilians and phil¬ 
anthropists. Here are humbler tributes of affec¬ 
tion to the memory of the loved and lost, in 
thousands of families—humble, it may be, but 
often exceedingly touching and beautiful. 
It is well worth one’s while to turn aside oc¬ 
casionally, from the haunts of busy life, to visit 
these cities of the silent. They show him what 
civilization, refinement, and Christianity would 
do for man’s last resting place. They sober our 
views of life, and at the same time cheer us by 
the respect paid to the good departed. 
