468 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
May 30, 1895. 
Pint and the Cuckoo Flower (C&rdamine pratensis) to which I have 
already referred. Many of the flowers of May were also dedicated 
to the Virgin, because this was regarded as her month, so that it 
will always be an open question, when the old name of a flower is 
a compound of “lady,” whether it alludes to the fair sex generally 
or to Our Lady in particular. Then the Cuckoo Flower is the 
Lady’s Smock as well. A friend wishes to know why. Possibly 
the name arose from the display made amongst the grass by ids 
white blossoms, especially along the banks of streams, where people 
sometimes laid their linen to bleach. Some correspondent of a 
scientific journal has suggested that “Lady’s Frock ” would be an 
improvement! Two pretty varieties of this flower that flourish in 
moist borders are a rosy purple and a double lilac. 
The Marsh Marigold, also Lady’s Bud, was called Cuckoo 
Bud too, flowering, says an old botanist, “ when the cuckoo doth 
begin his pleasant notes without stammering.” In our day it 
usually blooms before the cuckoo is heard or the Virgin’s month 
arrives. ’Twas later perhaps when the winters were colder, on 
the average, than now, and yet old records tell of spring 
flowers being picked earlier than we usually get them out of doors. It 
has been said that the large golden flowers are suggestive of “ desire 
for money,” not an uncommon peculiarity in all ages. An old 
belief was that the cuckoo ate flowers to clear his voice. Amor^gst 
these the true Sorrels were mentioned, especially the Wood Sorrel, 
which, with several other names, had that also of Cuckoo’s Meat 
and of Alleluia, because presumably it was coming into flower 
about the time this was sung in the churches. Possibly the oxalic 
acid these plants contain might be good for any throat. Formerly 
a green sauce made from them was eaten with fisb. The evidence 
seems conclusive that the Wood Sorrel is not the Shamrock of 
Ireland, though some have argued for it. A species of Clover is 
probable, and as the Wood Sorrel is a symbol of “joy ” it is not 
specially appropriate to the history of Erin. 
Yet^ another flower of cuckoo name is the Ragged Robin 
(Lychnis flos-cuculi). We infer that arose from its being seen in 
flower just when the cuckoo is noisiest; but \^e have garden species 
of Lychnis or Campion which bloom through the summer, so, too, 
does the white Campion of hedgerows, with an evening fragrance 
like that of the Petunia. Some folks have fancied in the Latin 
name an allusion to the use of the down of a Lychnis for lamps ; 
tis more likely to have arisen from the brilliancy of the flowers. 
We are told the Ragged Robin represents “wit,” and no doubt this 
article is quite as frequently associated with ragged attire as with 
stylish dress.^ “ Enthusiasm ” is the meaning of the purple and 
scarlet varieties we see in gardens. Allied to these are the species 
of Silene or Catchfly, and, owing to the propensity of the leaves to 
ensnare small insects, in floral language they have a sinister mean¬ 
ing. The plants generally tell us of “ snares,” and a white 
Catchfly is symbolic of a traitor or betrayer. Curious is the legend 
of their classic name. We read how the wise goddess Minerva had 
an attendant—Silene, whose duty was to obtain flies for her owl. 
But one day she caught him napping instead of fly hunting, and 
she changed him into a plant which should continue to catch insects 
in all the ages. 
Pinks and Carnations form an important group of garden 
flowers related to those just mentioned, and their many varieties 
have had numerous meanings given to them, only a few of which I 
can notice. The name of the genus, D anthus, is significant of the 
regard in which the flowers were held at an early period—flowers 
that had something divine about them, and people often infused 
them in wine to extract a flavour resembling their aromatic 
perfume. Evidently the old name of Gillyflower given to our 
familiar native species was only a perversion of that of the month 
July, when the flowers were mostly in bloom. Near the end of the 
sixtee^h century the first garden Carnation arrived in Britain 
^orn Poland, the flesh-like hue suggesting the name. Good old 
Parxinson in 1629 reckoned that he had about fifty sorts of 
Carnations and Pinks, and the Carnation became for many years 
the more popular, so that in 1702 Rea could enumerate 360 sorts, 
but shortly after our Scotch friends gave the Pink a new start. 
As a fiower it has favourable meanings attached to it; people used 
to say figuratively that a person was the “pink of perfection,” and 
a garden Pink of that colour represents “ pure love • ” while a 
white Pink is both a token of “ beauty ” and of “ingenuity,” some 
say, and the mountain variety tells of “aspiration but “refusal" 
18 itnplied by a variegated Pink or Carnation. The tall variety of 
the latter shows “ dignity,” a deep red Carnation is a symbol of 
sorrow, and in a jellow one we see “ disdain.” It is probably 
owing to its rarity that one native annual, the rosy tinted and 
curious D. prolifer, has received no special meaning ; but the wild 
Castle Pink, that mounts high on venerable walls, serves as a 
rerninder of “courage.” Many are the memorial specimens of it 
that have been taken from Rochester Castle and Fountain Abbey. 
What shall we say about the Harebell, or Hairbell ? Here we 
have somewhat of a puzzle, but we can start with the fact that the 
plant originally called Harebell was not any of the Campanulas, it 
was the familiar Bluebell of woods, the wild Hyacinth, Scilla 
nutans. If we ask, “ Why was it so named ? ” the probable expla¬ 
nation is, that it was prompted by the abundant growth of the 
species in coppices where hares were often seen, rather than by 
the notion that it furnished them with food. When the name was 
applied to the other group, which is also possessor of that of Blue¬ 
bell, we cannot ascertain ; and the spelling is debateable, the 
advocates of “ harebell” think the growth of the flower suggested 
a comparison between them and the timid quadruped, but the 
supporters of “ hairbell ” point to the hairlike character of the 
stalks generally. Others yet think it may have been “ airbell,” 
because the Campanulas have something aerial about them ; this 
we can hardly consider as more than a fancy. Cultivated in 
gardens they are often called Canterbury Bells. The particular 
species that seems to be best entitled to that name is C. trachelium, 
the Nettle-leaved Bluebell, long ago observed in profusion about 
Canterbury and other parts of Rent. “ Acknowledgment ” is put 
down as its meaning, and it acts certainly as if it had an acknow¬ 
ledged right to spread, for I have noticed how it multiplies on 
waste ground where it has got possession. Clare, the poet, tells us 
it was once a favourite trick with boys to introduce glow-worms at 
night within its purple bells. It was the Throatwort of our 
ancestors, and considered to be a good remedy for hoarseness. 
One of the earlier species grown in gardens (perhaps C. persici- 
folia) was called the Virgin’s Violet 300 years ago, Viola Mariana ; 
and the dwarf C. alba appears to be the species that was known 
in France by the name of “Nun of the Fields.” This, and other 
kinds that are white, are said to represent “gratitude;” but the 
blue and purple Campanulas tell of “ submission ” or “ grief,” the 
drooping flowers of most kinds suggesting the idea. No one 
disputes that the C. rotundifolia is the “ bonnie Bluebell ” of 
Scotland, though abundant also in the south ; then the odd name 
of Venus’s Looking-glass is believed to have been first given to our 
native C. hybrida, since then it has been transferred to several 
garden varieties. In the Rampion, C. rapunculus, we have one of 
the tribe which furnishes an edible root, formerly cultivated as a 
winter salad.—J. R. S. C. 
DISBUDDING PEACH TREES. 
The Peach tree being generally grown on the extension principle, a 
great deal of disbudding is required on healthy free-growing examples 
before the number of shoots is reduced to the proper limit. In this 
operation, like all others, there is a right and a wrong way of performing 
it. Some few years ago I saw a gardener disbudding his Peach trees ; 
the growth of the shoots were 5 or 6 inches in length, and these he was 
pulling off wholesale, and very often a long strip of bark from the 
branch as well. This is undoubtedly a wrong way, for it would be a 
serious check to the trees to be denuded of so much foliage at one 
time, and the force expended on these useless shoots ought to have been 
concentrated on those required for the following year’s fruiting. 
Disbudding should be commenced early, say when the growth has 
extended about an inch or so, or even sooner, the growths then being 
very numerous. It should be done gradually, the fore-right shoots and 
those growing towards the wall may be rubbed off first, the others by 
degrees, until sufficient only are left for furnishing the bearing wood for 
the following season. A few extra may be allowed in case of accidents. 
A great mistake is made by leaving too many, some of which would 
have to be cut away at the winter pruning. No more should be allowed 
than can receive the full benefit of the sun and obtain abundance of 
light and air ; then we may expect, other things being equal, firm well- 
ripened wood in the autumn, which we all know is one of the great 
secrets of success in fruit-growing. 
It is a common practice to leave at the extremity of the current year’s 
fruiting wood a growth for the purpose of drawing up the sap to the 
fruit. This shoot is stopped when a few inches of growth is made, if it 
is not required for the extension of the tree. Another growth is left as 
near to the base of the shoot as possible, to be laid-in for fruiting the 
next season. All the shoots between these two are removed unless the 
growth is a long one, when more will be left; but this will depend in 
some measure to the distance allowed between the main branches. 
My own practice for the last four or five years has been rather 
different, as I am inclined to think that it is not a good plan, in all cases 
at any rate, to remove the whole of the growths between those left for 
the following year’s fruiting. In disbudding our trees all growths at 
right angles to the wall are of course taken off in the ordinary way, but 
instead of removing all the others not required for furnishing the tree 
some of them are allowed to grow a few inches, and then stopped at the 
third or fourth leaf, and all subsequent growths pinched at one leaf. 
Should these be found to make the tree too dense, as the main growths 
extend some of them can be reduced, or cut away altogether. These are 
cut clean off when the trees are pruned or in the autumn, so that the 
light and air may have free access to the wood that it is necessary to 
retain. I do not suppose that this is anything new, but mention it to 
ventilate the subject. My reason for working on these lines is because 
I think the fruit swells more evenly and quickly in its early stage; and 
