June 9, 1892. ] 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
431 
stock from Holland, and that all they are able to do with all their 
pains is to grow young stock on to a saleable size. Even if we 
succeeded in doing as much as this in England I think it would 
not be worth our while to attempt it. 
With respect to the question of labour, I beg to say that the 
remarks made by your correspondent are not quoted from my 
writing. On the contrary, I never saw in Holland a workman who 
appeared miserable ; and although I may have my own opinions 
about the desirability of such long hours of labour, I question the 
accuracy of the term “sweater” when applied to a man who 
employs men upon his own land, and gives them not only the current 
rate of wages but even more than the average outdoor workman 
obtains, to say nothing of the fact that he finds them employment, 
or more correctly speaking, pays them wages for doing next to 
nothing during the long-continued continental winter. The rate 
of wages and the hours of labour are much the same in Belgium as 
in Holland. I have (occasionally) worked fifteen hours myself in 
a Belgian nursery, and I left with such pleasant and kindly feelings 
to all I met there that it would grieve me to see any unkind 
names applied to them.—A. H. Pearson. 
FUNGUS ON FRUITS. 
Op late years a fungus has become rather prevalent on half-ripe 
Peaches and other fruits. It infects Apricots, Cherries, Figs, 
Grapes, and Peaches. The attack is marked by a minute speck at 
the apex or upper side of the fruit, where moisture and the fungus 
spores alike find a stat, and the spot spreads rapidly over the fruit, 
causing a discoloured depressed patch, with a salmon-coloured 
centre somewhat raised. The fungus has been found to be, as the 
late Bev. M. J. Berkeley believed, the cause of “spot” in Grapes 
and other fruits, and is known as Gloeosporium Iseticolor. These 
minute fungi are difficult to contend with, but we find that a 
deposition of moisture on the surface of the fruit is absolutely 
essential to the germination of the fungus spores, if indeed the 
moisture is not a necessity of their finding a rest on the fruit. 
The only remedy is to collect and destroy by fire the attacked 
fruit, and it has been found that the employment of a 10 to 
15 per cent, solution of sulphate of iron in water, applied in winter 
with a brush, destroys the spores of the fungus, and has no 
injurious effect on the bark of the trees. This, and the burning 
of all prunings and dead leaves, is a good preventive measure, also 
removing the surface soil and supplying fresh ; but the spores may 
come from other quarters than the immediate locality of previous 
infestations, therefore the cultivator must not neglect to admit air 
freely after the fruit gives indications of ripening, and a gentle 
warmth should be kept in the pipes, if necessary, so as to allow of 
a little ventilation constantly, and thus prevent the deposition of 
moisture on the ripening fruit. Early ventilation is also imperative, 
as ambient air heated by the sun is rapidly condensed by the cooler 
surfaces of fruit. Another good plan is to coat the hot-water pipes 
lightly with a mixture of lime and sulphur. This is a “ perfect 
cure,” for the spores in germinating have their germinal tubes 
contracted and destroyed by the sulphur fumes. But though 
sulphur may be safely used in Peach and Fig houses, it must 
be very carefully used on hot-water pipes in vineries, for its fumes 
act perniciously on the tender skins of white Frontignan and white 
Muscat Grapes, hardening them and causing them to assume a 
purplish hue. 
As it is the finest fruits, as a rule, that are infested by Gloeo¬ 
sporium Iseticolor, it is a good plan to place a circular piece of white 
cardboard over the fruit, say an inch above Peaches and Figs, the 
diameter about twice that of the fruit. This saves Peaches from 
ripening too rapidly at the apex when that is exposed to the direct 
rays of the sun, and it prevents moisture from descending and 
condensing on the fruit, so that the spores of Gloeosporium remain 
dormant or perish. It saves grand fruit from falling a prey to 
“ spot,” and it is well worth the trouble, as Peaches 10 to 12 inches 
in circumference always tell favourably at dessert. 
The Muscat of Alexandria Grape often falls a victim to “ spot,” 
and the berries most liable to attack are the finest speciaens, simply 
because their skins are distended and thin, hence more susceptible 
of injury from moisture resting upon them. If a piece of card¬ 
board, an inch larger every way than the bunch, be placed above 
the shoulder, so as to hang just clear of the berries, it will save 
them from descending moisture and Gloeosporium attacks, as well 
as from mice and rats. It is easy to cut a hole in the centre of 
the cardboard to admit the stem of the bunch, and cut a slit from 
the hole to the edge of the cardboard on one side only, and by 
that slip the cardboard over the bunch and keep the edges of 
the cut together with wire clamps. The point, however, is to 
ventilate early to prevent the atmospheric moisture expanded by 
the sun from condensing on the berries. The ventilation, in other 
respects, must be carefully attended to for carrying the crops to 
perfection,—G. A. 
ENGLISH TULIPS. 
There must be many of us, writes “ Wanderer,” who have 
some of Ruskin’s horror of the railway, and desert it as oppor¬ 
tunity offers for other methods of progression. On foot or awheel 
it is easy to diverge from the highways and seek the pleasures that 
are hidden away in the nooks and corners of every country side. 
Apart from the familiar yet never wearying features of the 
fiowers and trees, one meets with quaint old gardens of a style 
undreamed of by the great majority, or finds himself in some 
spot which the busy world passes by, but in which there is some 
object of special interest. It has been so with me many times. 
I have sought nothing, but have found much, albeit often of no 
great repute as the world goes. I could tell of many scenes which 
no great garden I have seen could match in quiet beauty and 
natural charm, and of small places in which there are choice 
treasures not to be found in large establishments. There are 
old-world places and old-world flowers, all a source of happiness 
and pleasure. 
In a recent May ramble my course led me to spots that Mr. 
Luckhurst’s pleasant pen has touched upon in days gone by, and I 
am sure he would agree with me that the slopes and glades of 
Ashdown Forest are full of charm while the merry month is with 
us. He would go farther, perhaps, as I do, and say that there are 
pleasant pictures to be met with if one journeys on into other parts 
of smiling Sussex—onwards say, towards Hastings and Eastbourne 
from the west. The long climb from Forest Row to Wych Cross 
is a little trying perhaps, for it is uphill for three miles, but there is 
a great reward when the summit is reached, and the temptation to 
pass on down the sloping forest road to Nutley and Maresfield is 
too strong to be resisted. When there, Buxted to the left or 
Uckfield to the right form so easy a stage that one of them is sure 
to be attained. And after ? Why, it would be well enough to 
turn and scour fresh lanes and byeways in search of a new route 
back to London, with contempt for the railway that is now so near 
still unappeased, or to take the hint from signboards which say 
that Tunbridge Wells is only a fSw miles distant, and there would 
be pleasure in either too. But in halting irresolutely at the cross 
roads a good genius comes and whispers in my ear, “ Yonder, over 
the hills towards the sea, near where the long stretch of woodland 
is broken by that lofty tower, and the mills show through the tall 
trees, are glorious flowers that you love ; seek them.” 
The genius speaks truly, there is no need to question her. 
Brightly there flashes back the recollection of the place of which 
she speaks, where the landscape spreads away for miles, and 
beyond, in the steely clearness, flash the white wings upon the 
deep. Along the dusty turnpike, whitened by the sun heat, and 
through devious lanes, ever ascending, my way takes me. The 
end in view is sharply defined, and hence the machinations of 
a peasantry apparently animated by an insatiable desire for mis¬ 
directing me come to naught. They get me into circuitous ways 
when subsequent inquiry reveals a straight one just by : they 
send me down fearful lanes wherein steep gradients are freely 
garnished with alternate depths of dust and boulders when there 
is a smooth-surfaced road that is still nearer ; but at last a 
familiar road lined with trim cottages is reached, and, further 
on, is a pleasant house among the trees where the flowers which 
I seek find a home. The borders, it is noticed, are brilliant 
with choice shrubs, the rockwork a sheet of colour, the fruit 
trees lower down bright with blossom. A conservatory shrouds 
the front door; a conservatory so full that an overflow meeting 
of plants is being held outside—discussing the better housing of 
the poor perhaps. To whom could such a house belong but to 
one who loved flowers and knew them well ? Ah ! (I knew it 
all along, of course), it is Dr. Hogg who emerges to meet me, 
and shakes me by the hand and bids me heartily welcome. He 
knows what my errand is; he knows that I love and am a 
learner, and that is enough for him. 
We wend our way through the garden, reinforced by a Novice 
(see Journal, June lltb, 1891), who had declined the pleasures of 
the road and come down by train ; and there, beneath a capacious 
awning, we find the flowers of which the genius spoke, a glorious 
array of noble English Tulips, a brilliant, glistening band, flaming 
with purple and gold. There is a magnificent bed of them, nearly 
500 strong, and the effect they produce is one impossible to 
describe. The aforesaid Novice has told Journal readers how the 
Doctor has laboured with loving care to perfect his collection, and 
with what infinite pains he has tested and compared the varieties ; 
how he has made acquisitions and discarded inferiorities in the 
