September 8, 1887. ] 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
207 
How, then, does the larva form of aphis differ from the fully de¬ 
veloped insect as seen on the Rose shoots 1 
Chiefly in that the antennas are a little shorter and possess fewer 
joints, the legs smaller and stouter, and the so-called “ nectaries ” only 
very slightly developed. Such is the larva form, and I purposely say no 
more about it, until I come to speak of the insect in its fullest develop¬ 
ment. 1 
The pupa form is seen only in some cases, those, that is, in wh : ch 
wings are developed, the rudiments of such organs being seen as minute 
swellings on the thorax. 
Allowing, then, for these changes in the size of the antennae and 
other organs, let us look at the aphis as ordinarily seen on our Rose 
trees. 
Pick off one of these little creatures—whose numbers we endeavour 
to diminish by aloes, quassia, tobacco juice, and other mixtures—and 
put it under a microscope of low power. You will see a roundish, or 
oval, transparent green body, supported by six legs, which are jointed 
and hairy ; there are two large black eyes, with several facets, and two 
antennas, long and very flexible, lying (if not in use) along the back and 
reaching nearly to the far end of the body ; the creature may have wings, 
or not, as the case may be. Besides these details, you will see a proboscis, 
or rostrum, as it is called, very probably folded up underneath the body ; 
it is easily pulled out from this position of rest, and will be found to be 
of an appreciable length. This is used as a sucker by which aphis can 
extract the juices from the plant tissues. 
. Notice lastly, about two-thirds of the way down the back, a pair of 
tmy, bristle-like organs, pointing backwards. These are the nectaries, 
or cornicles, hollow tubes by means of which the insect emits the sweet 
fluid known as “ honeydew.” 
Such is an outline of the external appearance of the aphis. 
The rostrum consists of a three-jointed sheath, inside which are three 
sharp-pointed lancets, capable of backward and forward motion, in 
order to puncture the leaf surface. In those which live on leaves this 
rostrum is short, because the sap being near the surface great length is 
not necessary, but in some aphides that are found on tree bark the 
rostrum is much longer, enabling the insect to penetrate to the required 
depth, in order to get at the sap. In the Larch aphis the rostrum is not 
only long, but also spirally coiled ; thus it can form, when introduced 
into the bark, an anchor by which the aphis can hold fast in a gale of 
wind. 
The secretion from the cornicles is, of course, the result of the supply 
of juice from the plant, and is given off hi drops as these gradually 
accumulate at the tips of the tubes. These drops fall on the grass, or 
on the leaves, as the case may be, and if it be deposited to any great 
extent on the leaves a still further damage is done to the plant, for not 
only has aphis deprived it of sap, but this thick treacle-like honeydew 
falling on the leaves chokes the leaf-pores, or stomata, and prevents the 
proper respiration normally carried on by these pores. The name 
honeydew ” has been given to this secretion for its sweetish taste and 
its appearance when it has fallen on the grass or leaves. It is not by 
any means always allowed to fall and waste itself, as will presently be 
seen. 
So much for the description of a typical Rose aphis and the life it 
leads. Its colour I have said is green. In other species we find the 
colour varies. Grey, dark olive, black, white, yellow, red, and violet are 
all known. The black species is familiar to everyone, as seen on the 
common Bean plant. The yellow, red, green, and grey are found on the 
Apple. 
The life led by the aphides is perhaps the most purely inactive and 
vegetative among insect lives. It consists in residing almost con¬ 
tinuously on the plant, tucking its juices, assimilating them, giving the 
honey-dew off by the cornicles, growing a little, reproducing themselves 
with enormous rapidity, and then there is an end of them. Grant Allen 
calls their life “ duller than that of the very dullest cathedral city,” and 
yet I suppose they enjoy it after their fashion. 
We have seen that the first brood of young aphides are the direct 
product of the eggs laid during the preceding autumn, and that these 
pass through a kind of larva stage (and in some cases through a pupa 
stage as well). They moult their skins four times, and all these 
“ moults ” may be compared to the intermediate stages of a dragon fly. 
Having done this, they are now mature aphides. 
They are very peculiar creatures, in that they are all wingless, and 
are all females. These give rise, asexually, to a second brood, exactly 
resembling the first— i.e., imperfect females. This process is repeated 
ten times (some say eleven) during one summer, and in each case without 
any male intervention at all. The nevv group is produced by a kind of 
“budding” process from the preceding one, the “buds” being, like 
those of a plant shoot, simply facsimiles of those whence they come. 
They pass through no metamorphoses whatever, but are born in the like¬ 
ness of their parents (or rather parent)— i.e., they are all imperfect 
females—imperfect, because wingless. A few winged forms may be 
very often seen side by side with the wingless ones, but of this there 
seems to be no satisfactory explanation. 
This freedom from the usual law of metamorphosis accounts of 
course for the astonishing rate at which we see their numbers ^increase 
during a single summer. 
The last brood—be it the tenth or eleventh—differs from all those 
preceding it in that it consists of both males and females, all of which 
are winged. The latter, after being fertilised in the usual manner, lay 
their eggs in autumn, and so complete the wonderful cycle of the year’s 
generations of aphides. 
It will be seen that out of eleven broods ten are made up of imperfect 
females, while the remaining one consists of perfect insects, both male 
and female. 
As to the actual rate of multiplication, Reaumur calculated that one 
female produces, in round numbers, about ninety young ones. She lives 
to see children’s children to the fifth generation— i.e., to the number of 
ninety multiplied by ninety four times over, or 5,904,900,000. This, of 
course, presupposes that all the five generations go on unchecked by any 
accident, or undiminished by doses of tobacco, or other insect-destroying 
fluid. Carrying the calculation further, it is found that one aphis would 
in a single season produce a quintillion of aphides. 
I leave my readers to write this out in figures for themselves. They 
will find it needs thirty-one figures to express it. A mathematician has 
computed the number of the progeny of one aphis if allowed to go on 
unchecked for 300 days, and he finds they would entirely choke up the 
universe, land and 'water, so that no living creature, save themselves, 
could possibly exist. 
Professor Huxley, assuming that 1000 aphides weigh one grain 
avoirdupois, and that a “ very stout man ” weighs 20 stone, or 280 lbs., 
says that the tenth brood alone of one aphis would be equal in actual 
matter to more than 500,000,000 of such men, or nearly one-third the 
population of the entire world. Imagine this calculation carried to the 
300th day— i.e., to the fifteenth generation, and the sum total is almost 
beyond realisation. 
How is it, then, that we poor human beings can exist at all in a 
world where the aphis co-exists 1 Because the beneficent law of com¬ 
pensation steps in in the shape of many enemies to aphis life. The 
account of these various foes which keep down the numbers of our so- 
called Rose pest, their interesting life histories, and the fascinating 
study of the relation of aphides to their friends—the ants—who care so 
tenderly for them, I must leave for a second paper. —(The Naturalists' 
Monthly.') 
LAMBTON CASTLE. 
Passing Durham by rail for the north a glimpse is obtained of that 
picturesque city, its grand old cathedral, and the delightful valley of the 
Wear, and the view, though hurried, is sufficient to induce many a 
traveller to break his journey for an hour or two to visit the local 
antiquities and enjoy the riverside scenery. The Wear is distin¬ 
guished by its steep high banks densely covered with trees and under¬ 
growth down to the water’s edge, by its circuitous course and the beauty 
of the surroundings for at least a large portion of its length, until it 
reaches the neighbourhood of busy Sunderland. From Durham north- 
wards for several miles it is exquisitely beautiful until Lumley and 
Lambton Castles are reached, the latter (fig. 27) rising from a luxuriant 
forest-like growth at the top of its steepest and most lofty bank, having 
a very fine appearance. To reach Lambton Castle most conveniently by 
rail, however, Chester-le-Street or Fence Houses may be chosen. If the 
former is selected it will give an opportunity of visiting some other 
places of interest to the horticulturist before proceeding to the great 
garden. Perhaps the best way to see the natural aspect of the place is 
to journey by road from any of the large towns within driving distance, 
and Lambton is easily reached in this way from Newcastle, Durham, or 
South Shields. Approaching by road from the last-named town the park 
is entered at the lower lodge, the road gradually ascending until it 
crosses the Wear some distance below the Castle, and commanding a fine 
prospect of the richly clothed valley and the winding river. This is a de¬ 
lightful position for the view, which is scarcely surpassed by that 
obtained from the terrace of the Castle itself. It is one of those fresh 
and verdant denes or dells so frequent in the north, and which come as 
such agreeable surprises to railway travellers. The surrounding ground 
is often comparatively bare, or at least but sparsely clothed with trees, 
and all the vegetation is concentrated in the valleys. The protection 
afforded by the banks and the moisture no doubt account for this, and it 
is easy to take advantage of these circumstances, and improve the natural 
condition of the place by planting where the keen easterly and northerly 
winds of winter and spring cannot do much damage. 
A short distance over the bridge and then to the right, and the gar¬ 
dens so ably managed by Mr. J. Hunter are reached, where from beauti¬ 
ful scenery we pass to some of the results of horticultural art, and where 
Mr. Hunter has achieved so many triumphs in Grape culture. The 
garden comprises about thirteen acres, the greater part sloping to the 
south, with two ranges of glass houses at the upper part connected by a 
conservatory in the centre and another long range against the wall in 
the kitchen garden, and which was formerly devoted to trained fruit 
trees. On the right hand side of the engraving (fi*. 28), which gives a 
general idea of the position of the garden, finely backed up with trees 
on the north, is the gardener’s house, a handsome commodious villa-like 
structure, such as is seldom seen in gardens. From that extends the 
principal range of glass houses, with a fine terrace and flower garden in 
front 324 feet long. Borders the whole length of this are filled with 
Pelargonium Robert Fish, blue Lobelias, and angles of Mesembryanthe- 
mum cordifolium, on a general ground of Antennaria tomentosa. A few 
Pelargoniums, large Agaves, and Iresine Lindeni are employed to vary 
the appearance with good effect. Another border here is occupied 
chiefly with Veronica repens as the ground, with Echeverias and Pyre- 
thrum Golden Feather, the latter well coloured. A light fence as a 
boundary to the terrace, covered with Clematis Jackmanni, and loaded 
with rich purple flowers, is a charming feature. On the slope shown at 
the left-hand side of fig. 28, outside the kitchen garden wall is a series 
of scroll beds on white sand, edged with Box, and having a number of 
