24 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
January 11, 1894. 
MANAGEMENT OF TREES. 
Trees play such an important part in the economy of Nature, 
and are so interwoven with the history of men from the earliest 
times, that the subject is not only vast but illimitable. With 
thoughts flying back over the silent centuries it is not an easy 
matter to control one’s pen and bring it within the bounds of the 
object in view—to shut out all other considerations but the very 
limited yet not unimportant one of our timber trees so treated as 
to give the best results from two standpoints—firstly, as ornaments 
which they are often far from being ; secondly, their utility as 
timber, which they do not always attain. Ornaments first, 
timber after: these two desirable objects appear to me inseparably 
connected. 
There are of necessity other views, notably that of the artist. 
Here I have in my mind a fine picture of Burnham Beeches 
in all their rugged grandeur, but on this delicate ground where the 
artist stands I will not venture to tread ; there are distinct types of 
beauty, which 
“ Like wit, to judges should be shown, 
Both are most valued where they beat are known.” 
Being but a gardener, I take for my ideal a stately trunk reach¬ 
ing far up, harmonious in its proportions, and constitutionally 
strong to brave the elements, and must admit, though loth to do 
so, I cannot avoid comparing my ideal as so many cubic feet of 
timber with the tree in the picture as so many tons of firewood. 
But I think these ideals of mine do obtain the respect and admir¬ 
ation of all, and they should receive in their early days the atten¬ 
tion they deserve and require at our hands. That they do not 
always do so is only too evident in many otherwise well-kept 
demesnes, in which the gardens may be perfect, the mansion 
stately, but those tall, ancestral trees—where are they ? As a rule, 
walled-in demesnes are generally girdled by a belt of trees, and 
this is the first point of observation with us gardeners in our 
peregrinations. How often is a beautiful picture marred by the 
neglect observable in this timber frame ! No matter what good 
taste is displayed in the grounds, or skill in the gardens, this is 
the one thing wanting. In a large demesne this may oftener 
obtain than in one of less acreage ; it is a sort of no man’s land. 
A forester may be doing his duty on the estate, but comes not 
here. It is nothing to do with our friend the gardener, and the 
farm steward has many and various duties in which tree-pruning 
does not find a place. Contrast these attenuated forms, debilitated 
by bad company in the form of the ubiquitous Ivy, with those in 
some place where each tree is considered and thought for as it 
should be, I think you will allow there is room for a little to be 
said on the matter, and that this is a seasonable time to say it. 
It was my privilege to learn some useful lessons in this depart¬ 
ment from a noble employer who loved his trees and had made 
them a life study. In doing this he but carried on the good work 
done for many years previous by his father, and very evident was the 
result in the thousands of tall and stately specimens in the demesne. 
He now lies beneath their shade, but many a walk and a talk come 
back in memory, and some pithy anecdote recounted, relevant to 
the subject so dear to him. With one I venture to point a moral 
and adorn a tale. I may add that those mentioned have long since 
passed away. In discussing some point of thinning my noble master 
asked ine if I had heard of the Duke of Bedford and his forester’s 
reputation. Not having done so, he told me a certain Duke of 
Bedford in conference with his forester, was anxious to have a 
plantation thinned, to which the latter made strong objections. 
Asked his reason, he said, “Well, your Grace, it would injure my 
reputation.” In consideration of which, the Duke, while carrying 
out his plans, had a notice board prominently placed, saying it was 
done by himself against the wishes of his forester. The effects of 
thinning gave, for the time, evidence in favour of the forester’s 
opinion ; but the Duke was a far-seeing man, and waited (“ all 
things come to those who wait”) till time had repaired the ravages, 
then improvement was so apparent, and the notice board so promi¬ 
nent, that at last that forester asked His Grace to have it removed. 
“ For what reason ? ” says the Duke. “ Oh, your Grace,” it injures 
my reputation.” » J 
Foreigners in the form of choice Coniferse generally get all the 
attention they require, perhaps more than some of them deserve, 
while our native trees are passed over ; in the former on the first 
sign of a double leader it is promptly removed. 'Jhis same double 
leader is the rock on which many a fine timber tree is wrecked. 
They may go on unscathed by storms for a long time, but the more 
certain is the work of destruction when some “ dark showery south¬ 
west gale ’ vents its fury on them, splitting them down, leaving an 
has to be removed. This is a case of where 
that stitch in time ” would have saved many a noble tree. In 
the case of Coniferae, which I neither despise nor wish to disparage, 
a pruning chisel, with a handle of as many feet as you like to have 
it, is convenient and useful for removing superfluous leaders. In 
one case of a specimen some 50 feet high showing three leaders a 
friend, expert with the rifle, shot two off for me ; though the dead 
tops hung for some time rather nnsightly the object was attained. 
With choice and comparatively recent introduced Coniferse much 
care and thought is bestowed on them and great pleasure derived 
in watching the results, a pleasure which has its corresponding 
amount of pain, when the rigours of some exceptional winter kills 
them outright. 
Some years ago I had several varieties of Eucalyptus given 
me to raise. They had been sent to my employer from Australia by 
the Baron F. von Muller, with the idea that they might succeed 
in Ireland. Some of the plants raised were planted on a nobleman’s 
estate in Wexford, where in four or five years they attained the 
height of 60 feet, but then succumbed to frost. Without detract¬ 
ing from the praiseworthy efforts of those who endeavour to 
acclimatise the interesting trees from many lands, and add to the 
beauty and interest of estates and pleasure grounds, I think 
our native trees, and those long ago introduced, which are as 
reliable, should with good reason receive as much attention, by 
judicious and timely thinning—periodical trips with a small hatchet 
to remove Ivy at the base, removing some of the lower branches, 
shortening back as a corrective those which have a tendency to 
develop into heavy limbs, with the idea of attaining a stately trunk 
with a well balanced head. 
These are the trees which must and do give pleasure to all who 
look on them, whether it is the gardener with an eye to beauty and 
stateliness, or the timber merchant with an eye to cubic measure¬ 
ment, or the owner with perhaps an eye to both considerations, 
and these are the trees which stand when storms have swept off 
many a weaker neighbour whose strength has been diverted into 
more heads and limbs than they are able to carry. When the 
hands that planted, the heads that thought for them are, too, laid 
low, our children may say, “My father planted that tree,” 
and add, perhaps, “ he pruned it, too, or it would not now be 
here.”—E. K., Dublin. 
ABOUT DISBUDDING. 
It is many years now since Mr. John Keynes first adopted dis¬ 
budding in Rose exhibiting, and certainly with marked success. 
Whether anyone else had adopted it I cannot say, but I think it 
was through that veteran enthusiast that it became general. In 
those days trusses of Roses were asked for in schedules and often 
shown. Is a truss of Roses ever shown now ? and by a truss I 
mean all that is growing on a shoot that is going to bloom. 
Excepting in the case of those Roses that rarely produce more than 
one bud on a shoot, I should say the original truss untouched is 
very exceptionally seen. In the struggle for size in a bloom the 
outsiders of a truss of flowers have had a ruthless touch, and 
decapitation has been the result. 
Some years ago I recollect our genial friend “ D, Deal," 
narrating in these pages the beauty of some Rose garden belonging 
to a friend who did not exhibit, but whose Roses left nothing to 
be desired, and yet no disbudding practices found any favour there. 
I was struck with this at the time. I had begun the practice, and 
often it seemed to me that the plant resented the treatment, and 
said in appearance, “ Well, if you serve me so cruelly I do not care 
to grow on ! ” Since I have been a grower of Chrysanthemums 
the same thought has often crossed my mind when, after carefully 
disbudding, the petted remnant has remained almost stagnant, and 
certainly not as if it had profited by that nourishment intended for 
several others, but by the disbudding concentrated on it. 
The wise man tells us there is “a time for all things this 
being so, it follows that disbudding, to be useful and successful, 
must be done at that time. I think my earlier reasoning on this 
practice was, if it be good, to get all the nourishment conveyed in 
the shoot to a single bloom on that shoot, then the sooner the 
infant buds are sacrificed the better for the selected survivor. 
This, at any rate, I think is an error. The shoot is then abun¬ 
dantly supplied with sap, and I fancy the sore thus made does not 
fct kindly, and the sap oozing out, much that would go into the 
bloom is lost. 
Mr. E. Molyneux, in his valuable book on the Chrysanthemum, 
in speaking of the knotty point of taking the bud, gives an illus¬ 
tration of the crown and terminal. In both of these the taking is 
apparently at a much later date than some young ardent enthusiasts 
would adopt. Whether in the Rose or the Chrysanthemum, it 
seems to me that within 2 inches of the selected bloom, the young 
fry surrounding it had better be allowed to show a visible stem, say 
of half an inch in length, before decapitation takes place. Lower 
down the stem I do not think our disbudding can be too early, at 
