August 4, 1892. ] 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
93 
V ARIOUS are the ways in which people spend what is known 
as their holiday. This must of necessity be so, having 
regard to the differing tastes of the multitude which compose the 
workaday world. Thousands of persons in London escape to the 
country when the day comes that permits their doing so ; while, 
on the other hand, many in the country flock to the metropolis 
to see the various sights that are provided for them, and bringing 
in shillings to the providers. Some persons, perhaps the majority, 
aie bent wholly on deriving pleasure daring their occasional 
respite from toil, while others seek to combine with it instruction. 
Without in the least reflecting on the purely pleasure-seekers so 
long as what they desire is wholesome and healthy, I have to class 
myself on the present occasion in the other category—those whose 
object during a day or two’s relaxation is to blend instruction 
with enjoyment. Being an item in the great and, it is hoped, 
ever-growing community that delight in gardens and gardening, I 
found myself in London on the Saturday prior to Bank Holiday 
wondering where to go for satisfying my aspirations. “ Oh, ” 
said a good friend who was appealed to for advice, “ go to 
Chiswick ; as a Fellow of the Royal Horticultural Society you 
have the right of entrance, and there is always something worth 
seeing there that a mind on the alert may grasp and store, 
possibly to advantage.” “But when shall I go, and how shall 
I get there?” was the responsive inquiry. Promptly came the 
reply, “ Go now, from any of the stations on the District Under¬ 
ground Railway, say the Temple or Charing Cross, to Acton Green, 
and you will be within five minutes’ walk of the gardens.” The 
advice was taken, and I found myself at Chiswick. 
Some years had elapsed since I had paid a visit to the gardens. 
I had the famous pyramid Pear trees in my mind, and the noble 
vinery. These I found there still, much in the same condition, 
but though the trees were nearly pearless, there was plenty of 
fruit on the Vines trained up the lofty curvilinear roof. How 
well the old Vine3 wear and bear. This is due, no doubt, to the 
practice that appears to be followed of training up young canes 
periodically and removing the old as the laterals become weak, 
not overcrowding the foliage, and affording nourishment to the 
roots by mulching the border with manure. Under such practice, 
with roof room for extension, and the soil of good staple, there 
is no knowing how long Vines, judiciously managed, will continue 
satisfactorily productive. In another long and narrow structure 
in the gardens, Vines much less young are not correspondingly 
fruitful, due, probably, in a very large measure, to the compulsory 
restriction to which they are subjected, and it is a pity the 
cramped tunnel-like case was not widened years ago. It struck 
me as an absurdity, though it may savour of presumption to 
suggest that the Council of the Society should permit anything to 
exist to which that epithet could be reasonably applied. If the 
stupid “case” had been ennobled into a roomy “house,” the 
increased quantity of Grapes would have defrayed the cost of 
the addition in a very few years. Perhaps, however, the autho¬ 
rities know this, but as Mr. Barron was not present I could not 
appeal to him on the subject. I can only express the belief 
that the Vines are being ruined by restriction—at least, that is 
the lesson they taught me. Is it the lesson they are intended 
to teach others who may visit the gardens for instruction ? 
No. 632.— Vol. XXV., Third Series. 
A large and lofty span-roof house appears as if it would some 
day be filled with Muscat Grapes, and good ones, judging by the 
growth of the Vines. But what a trial it would be to some of 
our young gardeners if they had to establish Muscat Vines in a 
forest of Tomatoes, yet that is what is being done at Chiswick. 
For vigour of growth and size of fruit these Tomatoes have 
surely seldom been excelled, still the Vines have forced their way 
out of and above them, and are making splendid canes, a few at 
the ends of the house, which have been allowed to bear, carrying 
splendid crops of fruit. This dual culture of Tomatoes in fullest 
vigour and Vines of greatest promise would be regarded as some¬ 
what of a triumph by many ; but Mr. Barron, I am told, is never 
elated, and let us hope he is seldom depressed. Whether he likes 
it or not, a tribute must be paid to the great cultural aptitude that 
is displayed in this not common but successful combination. 
“ Figs are a feature of Chiswick.” So said my London adviser, 
and I found he was right. In a fine, roomy, light house, built, I 
was told, by Messrs. J, Weeks & Co., and evidently well adapted 
for its purpose, is such a collection of Figs in pots that surpassed 
all my expectations. For variety, health, and productiveness I 
suspect it would be difficult to find their equal anywhere. The 
bushes, in various sizes, are studded with fruit. There are 
thousands upon thousands ripe, swelling, and forming, the trees 
being evidently master of their work, and the manager master of 
the trees. It is a veritable museum of Figs, which even a Royal 
Society may be proud to own, and if I had seen nothing else at 
Chiswick I should have been more than satisfied with my visit to 
the gardens. But there was a good deal more to admire—a breadth 
of dwarf Apples laden with fruit, another plantation of young 
trees on different stocks, collections of various flowers embracing 
the latest varieties too numerous to even enumerate, and a line of 
Cannell’s Seedling Lobelia, the most perfect in its compactness and 
rich blue colour that I have been privileged to see in not a short 
nor shortly travelled gardening career. Such is the beginning of 
my holiday, which was distinctly enjoyable and instructive. 
The Chiswick view ended, and my gratification described in the 
evening to my friendly guide, where to go next became the subject 
for discussion. It was eventually decided that as I had seen 
cramped Vines I should see what Vines can do which have their 
freedom, and a Sunday evening’s stroll was arranged in the 
direction of Roehampton. This quiet and picturesque village 
seems to nestle in a hollow on the verge of Wimbledon Common. 
It is just far enough from a railway station for preserving its rural 
character, and is both peaceful and prosperous. Some seven or 
eight millionaires are said to reside within its borders, and there is 
always work to be had for all respectable men, those who work in 
gardens receiving from 20s. to 25s. a week. Near the centre of 
this village is Manresa House, formerly the seat of the Earls of 
Bessborough, but now a Roman Catholic College. In the gardens 
is the celebrated Vine that I had more than once read about in 
the Journal of Horticulture , and often wished to see. At last my 
hopes were to be realised. We were fortunate in finding Mr. 
M. Davis, the gardener, at home. He is a bright, intelligent, 
genial Irishman. It is a real pleasure to meet such a man, truly 
one of Nature’s gentlemen, and unquestionably a first rate gardener. 
Though his innate modesty will cause him to almost shrink from 
what I am about to say, it has to be said ; and it is this. Mr. Davis 
is the raiser and grower of the finest Vine in the United Kingdom. 
No other man living can look upon such a Vine of his own raising 
and training. Visitors call to see it from far and near, Mr. Peabody 
declaring that the inspection alone was worth his voyage from 
America. Planted almost in the centre of a narrow lean-to house, 
the roof having a sharp angle, the seven arms of the Vine stretch 
right and left to a length of nearly 230 feet, or if placed end to 
end more than a quarter of a mile. They are as straight as Vine 
rods can be, and from the upper side of each horizontal the laterals 
are trained at suitable intervals—overcrowding being avoided—for 
No. 2288.—Von. LXXXVTI., Old Series. 
