80 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
[ July 27, 1893. 
interested, will not again invite a failure in one way in their attempts to 
stear clear of another. Poverty of soil and insufficiency of moisture 
have much to answer for this season. Why does Mr. Lock agree that 
animat manure should be avoided, when, according to his own showing, 
a use of it has been attended with the best of results ? I am of opinion 
that we have been too sparing of solid manure, especially this year, 
chemical or special manures being but poor reeds to lean upon in 
tropical weather.^—W. IgGtXTLDEN. 
SCARLET RUNNER BEANS NOT SETTING. 
I SHALL be glad to know the cause of Scarlet Runner Beans not 
setting. I have never known them behave in the way they are now 
doing. I called on my next neighbour (a market grower) to inquire 
about his, and I found them just like my own. He tells me the com¬ 
plaint is pretty general in this neighbourhood. I am well aware that 
Beans fail to set if they are dry at the root, but in my case and also 
that of my neighbour they have not been so. I was not a little sur¬ 
prised to find that they did not respond to the waterings, as I have 
always been able to procure Beans with the aid of the water-pot 
in dry weather. I am even more surprised now, as for the past 
fortnight we have had copious rain. I observe that humble bees are 
scarce hereabout this season, and that the blossoms of Beans are not 
pierced by them as is usual. Is the proboscis of the humble bee 
necessary to effect the “ pollination” of Beans as is the case with some 
Clovers 1 Hive bees do not work at Scarlet Runners much. Informa¬ 
tion will be very acceptable.—T. S., Bristol, 
[We shall be glad to hear what correspondents have to say on the 
subject.] 
SILENE PENDULA. 
The great beauty and effectiveness of this well-known plant when 
employed in masses for spring bedding is invariably commented upon by 
all who see it in full flower. There is, however, one objection frequently 
advanced against its general use for the above purpose—viz., the com¬ 
paratively late period at which it flowers, this in many cases preventing 
the planting of the summer occupants of the beds filled with the Silene 
at the usual time. There is a great amount of truth in this objection, 
but it is one which may to some extent be overcome by sowing the seed 
early, and planting the young plants in their permanent quarters some 
time during the following October. The usual time recommended for 
sowing is early in August. This answers fairly well should the w'eather 
during the following two months prove favourable for promoting rapid 
growth, and if early autumn frosts are not prevalent ; but under 
conditions the reverse of these the plants do not become strong 
and well rooted in time for early planting. This operation is in conse¬ 
quence delayed till late in the autumn or early in the spring, the 
result in either case being that their flowering period is unnecessarily 
delayed. In order to avoid this undesirable state of affairs seed should 
be sown at once in a sunny position. 
T generally sow thinly in drills 9 inches apart. When the plants 
are large enough to handle they are pricked in beds, allowing 4 inches 
of space between each plant, and should the weather prove dry they 
are kept well watered till established. The only after-treatment neces¬ 
sary to secure good plants by October is to eradicate all weeds in a 
young state, and occasionally stir the surface of the soil with a small 
hoe. Well-rooted plants with good halls of earth attached are thus 
obtained, which, having been grown sturdily from the first, are able to 
withstand the frost of severe winters, and with the advent of warm 
spring "weather start at once into growth, and begin to flower as 
early as the climatic conditions of each locality and season render 
possible.— H. Dha’kin. 
CHATSWORTH. 
Whether Chatsworth under the Chester rhgime differs much or 
little from the Chatsworth of Speed and Thomas must be left for 
deeision to those whose visits are not, like my own, limited to the first 
figure of the numerical system, but who have seen it under its various 
chiefs. Probably so vast a place, of which the working arrangements 
must necessarily be in the hands of permanent departmental foremen, 
changes little year by year, but as to that I can say nothing. My 
reference to the great Cavendish demesne must be limited to a few 
impressions made while its famous gardens rest under the charge of Mr. 
Chester, and as a result of a road journey thither in the midst of the 
terrific heat of late June in the present year of grace. To refer to it 
at all seems to be repeating an oft-told tale, but “other times, other 
manners,” other minds, other thoughts, and perchance some fresh 
ground may be broken as the result of a pleasant summer ramble 
through some of the loveliest scenery in England—from smoky Sheffield 
to beautiful Baslow and Edensor. 
It was my misfortune to arrive at Chatsworth a few minutes after some 
friends had taken the head gardener under their protecting wings and 
carried him away. I had had a foretaste of this sort of thing in Sheffield 
the day before, when I struggled through the sweltering heat up to 
Rough Bank in search of Ben Simonite, found that he had moved 
farther afield up Attercliffe way ; sought him there, and at length dis¬ 
covered his garden only to learn that the worthy old florist was out in 
the town somewhere. A second edition of this within a few hours was 
too much, but there was no help for it. I was too late. But fortune 
did not altogether desert me. The plant foreman, Mr. G. Ridout, came 
to the rescue, and proved to be a capable and entertaining guide. He 
has been at Chatsworth more years than some young ladies would own 
to having existed, loves it well, and knows its every feature and charm. 
Herewith, at the outset, I gratefully acknowledge his able and patient 
guidance. 
In the Bosom of the Hills. 
There are many approaches to Chatsworth, but it is difficult to 
imagine one more beautiful than that from Sheffield, which takes the 
traveller by Fox Houses and Froggatt Edge to Baslow and the Derwent 
Valley. The road goes upward for many tedious and dusty miles from 
the cutlery metropolis, winding gradually into cloudland, and then 
there comes the turning point—the point where the peaks tower up 
around and look on the green depths far below. The road winds round 
the side of the hills, downward now, downward for mile after mile 
through the bosom of the hills, with the grim rocks above and the 
smiling valley beneath. The former hang sheer over the road in some 
places, but there are no waters to loosen their hold or masses of snow to 
bring them crashing down. The peaks glide by one by one in majestic 
array. To an eye that has not rested on the gleaming Silberhorn or the 
sublime Jungfrau they must be of absorbing interest, and the temptation 
to turn in the saddle and gaze on each giant as it recedes into the rear 
is too strong to be resisted, even when flying at breathless speed down 
the winding hillside, with the dizzy slope down to the valley but a few 
feet away. It is a picture not often seen, not soon to be forgotten. What 
dreary grandeur there must be in it in the winter time, when the fierce 
winds sweep through the valleys and the tors are robed in their winding 
sheets. But that is in the past and in the future, not in the sunlit, 
gilded present. Now the great hills smile, and their magnificence 
retains all its hold upon the mind when at length Baslow, nestling in the 
valley, is reached, the Derwent crossed, and Chatsworth close at hand. 
Is Chatsvtorth Beautiful ? 
I ask the question in all seriousness, and with a reason. In a book 
from whieh I shall presently quote there are references which might 
lead to the belief that the pride of Derbyshire is but a poor apology for 
a beautiful domain—cockneyfied, artificial, and commonplace. We who 
have read of it ehiefly from the gardening point of view have surely 
formed no such opinion as that. Have gardening writers, therefore, 
given us misleading impressions ? Is the reputation that it enjoys, as 
one of the fairest spots of our “isle inviolate,” false? Should we no 
longer look upon it, as we have done for all these years, as one of the 
foremost places in the land ? Fresh indeed would be the ground broken 
if I were to study Chatsworth from such a standpoint, and, setting at 
defiance all established ideas of its beauty and greatness, proceed to 
show that it is vulgar and inartistic. But no such task is mine. I call 
attention to such a view publicly expressed with the object of showing, 
as I hope, that it is inaccurate and untenable. Let us read :— 
A Criticism and a Defence. 
“ If,” says Baddeley’s “Guide to the Peak District” in its reference 
to the Chatsworth Gardens, “ we once admit that Art does not outstep 
its provinee in entering into direct competition with Nature in Nature’s 
own department, that there is nothing impertinent in the cockney 
pleasantry that a beautiful landscape is almost equal to the transforma¬ 
tion scene in a pantomime, we may derive unmixed pleasure from the 
Chatsworth Gardens.” One may be forgiven if he pauses and rubs his 
eyes over such words as these. Even while admiring the cleverness of 
their construction, no one can fail to recognise that a tremendous 
indictment is being levelled at the place of which a description is being 
given, and naturally seeks to ascertain what has prompted them. But 
before proceeding to that the writer tells us that Nature is gracious and 
kind. “ In some parts of them ” (the gardens), he goes onto say, “ Art 
has almost become a second Nature, so forgiving a spirit has the latter 
manifested in overgrowing hand-built rockeries with her own green 
livery.” And then we learn what is the head and front of the offend¬ 
ing. There is a long cascade in the grounds near the house—a made 
cascade, a cascade such as that in the grounds of the Crystal Palace, 
with broad stages of stone, each a yard or so below the other, so that the 
water when “ on ” may go plunging down, making a series of miniature 
falls. This grievous thing appears to have had a large share in exercis¬ 
ing the soul of the Guide writer, and the evil work was furthered by a 
tree of copper, so cunningly contrived that the turning of a tap in a 
quiet corner near causes water to gush from its stems, and squirt around 
on unwary visitors like a Californian “ sprinkler ” on a bed of Radishes. 
Well, the tree is an absurd fancy of course, and the cascade artificial and 
indefensible; butadmittingboth, whatisto be saidof the person to whose 
mind these things constitute the gardens of Chatsworth? Vain, it 
would seem, are the thousands of magnificent Conifers, rearing their tall 
spires to the clouds, the flower bordered lakes, the huge, the gorgeous 
masses of Rhododendrons clothing the hillsides, the banks of wild 
Roses, the Fern-filled dells. All that makes what to visitors who know 
and love beautiful gardens is a dream and a delight must be blotted out 
to leave room for a paltry satire, founded chiefly on a stone cascade and 
a eopper tree 1 To absurdity so sublime, to ignorance so colossal, as 
are evidenced in the description of Chatsworth Gardens from which I 
have quoted, it would surely be futile to suggest that these are but weak 
fragments of a great, a powerful, a magnificent whole. 
The Victoria House. 
Were it only for the Victoria house, Chatsworth would be well worth 
a visit. There is something in its very originality which strikes one. 
