January 21, 1886. ] 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
49 
had a week previously pitched a tent for itself in our village. Into the 
garden, of course, we went, and very soon a smart handsome man, with 
quite a human countenance, and a rather slovenly costume, but with nothing 
particular in his manner or appearance, met us, gave us a cordial greeting, 
nvT P rove< ^. l 36 ( aa I duly learnt by what took place) the philosopher. 
Oh, the relief it was to me to find he was like any other man ! and, oh, the 
mystery, that such an ordinary human being should be a philosopher ! I 
forget his name, but 1 remember his silvery laugh and his chaffing Dad 
about French soldiers being Scarlet Runners, and German sailors Prussian 
Blues, and English captains blushing Cucumbers, and a lot more nonsense 
that probably had point and piquancy when uttered, and remains with me 
only in a kind of fossil state, without form and void, and involved in dark¬ 
ness on the face of the deep. 
lou see, I am beating about the bush. The fact is, I remember many 
things about the philosopher better than I remember his garden. Now, 
strange to say, my numerous observations of gardens have helped me to 
some extent to recall, by an act of introspective comparison, many of the 
primary features of this garden. I remember some talk about collections ; 
and it appears to me that the philosopher had collections of all the classes 
of plants he thought worth collecting. I seem now to hear him say, some¬ 
thing in this fashion : “ The man who makes collections of Potatoes, Peas, 
Parsley, and Pumpkins is a fool; but there is some sense, if you wantjntel- 
lectual amusement, in collecting species of Delphiniums, Dianthus, Drabas, 
Dodeeatheons, and Droseras ; but” (to sustain the alliteration) “collections 
of Dracocephalums, Digitalis, and Doronicums would just suit an idiot’s 
paradise.” I remember that he talked considerably, and hammered away 
very much about the occupation of the garden with plants that, by useful¬ 
ness or beauty, were really worth a cultivator’s attention. “We must leave 
the weeds to Nature,” he said ; “ they are beautiful in various degrees, but 
we must root them out of our gardens. If we want to see Thistles in per¬ 
fection, let us not plant them in our gardens ; rather let us go the country 
and ramble about and take our chance of finding them : if we do find them, 
we shall find good samples—better far than we can produce in our gardens.” 
^ow it occurs to me that the philosopher explained to Dad the reason why 
our British plants usually fail in gardens, while exotics prosper —“ a great 
enigma ” he used to say. Now, this was his explanation : Exotics have no 
choice of conditions ; they must live and die according to the conditions 
they are subject to when taken into cultivation. Those that are of au 
adaptable nature—as, for example, the zonate-leaved Pelargonium (the 
.Geranium ” of that day)— and by their beauty compelling assiduous atten¬ 
tion to their wants, are mastered by the cultivator and obtain a permanent 
place. . Exotics must live or die, but natives will live in the field, though they 
may die in the garden. But why should they die in the garden? Because, 
m the first place, we do not value them sufficiently to ensure them the condi¬ 
tions they require ; and, secondly, because many that we prize the most are 
the least adaptable to a variety of conditions. “ Look at our native Orchids,” 
I seem to hear him say ; “ if you plant them in the common border, and 
expect them to thrive in the same soil as the Primrose or the Pansy, you will 
probably lose them, and serve you right. If they had cost you a thousand 
pounds apiece, you would not grudge them a piece of chalk or something 
else needful. But the wise man will hunt for them on the downs and in the 
woods, and never tear up a root; for he will say, “ Let Nature grow these 
things for me in her inimitable style, while I grow things that Nature never 
would produce for me in this climate.’ Thus,” added the philosopher, 
exotic plants are more worthy of our attention, because the natives do not 
need cultivating at all.” 
The Philosopher’s Garden was not particularly gay or startling in its 
appearance. I know Dad was never tired of describing it as an “ interest¬ 
's ’ garden. At that time the bedding system was but partially developed, 
but green grass and clean gravel were well known, as were noble trees and 
lustrous evergreens. This garden, I know, was rich ; for as I call it to mind 
I seem to be suddenly enclosed in groves and shrubberies that were vocal 
with a feathered choir. “ No bird-murder here 1” said the philosopher, when 
Dad suggested that he might make a pasty of nightingales’ tongues. 
I here was ample space, breadth, dignity, and a conformableness of details 
to the primary idea. So at least I believe at this day, having in mind many 
good gardens that were much like, or altogether unlike, that of the philoso- 
pher. It was full of objects of interest, all more or less rustic or gardenesque. 
If in roaming about you came upon a good view, there was a rustic seat or 
alcove ready for your resting-place from whence to enjoy it. And there 
were retreats open to the south for chilly days, and others open to the north 
for burning days, and trees were usually employed to afford shelter; for the 
philosopher said, “ There is no draught through a wood, and neither heat 
nor. cold in a wood ; therefore deep shrubberies must be the best shelter 
against sunshine, frost, and wind; and, as for rain, we should, weather per¬ 
mitting, imitate Lord Bacon, and take off our hats to it.” 
Two things especially made an impression on me, There was a snug 
rustic house in the garden called the “ reading-room.” It puzzled me to find 
a house with about half a dozen separate rooms in it called thejreading- 
room ; but I have a hazy kind of remembrance that, while the principal room 
was full of .books and had comfortable lounging-places for readers, others 
were occupied with curiosities gathered from the garden, such as portions of 
trees perforated by beet! s, great fungi that had been baked in the oven, 
wasps nests; in fact, they were rough museums in which objects were 
selected and prepared for the grander museum within doors. One Watson 
Winnatt—so I remember the name, but perhaps incorrectly—was called to 
explain the things, and this disclosed to me the startling fact that the 
philosopher was either not acquainted with anything in the world, or was 
limited in his willingness to impart information. 
An amusing ® ve . m ' nu tes may be spent in reading “ Botany in a Bonnet 
Shop. The book is highly entertaining, and is one of those which one 
can take up and lay down at pleasure when the mind wants rest. 
THOUGHTS ON CURRENT TOPICS. 
Still “current,” because it cannot be so soon forgotten, is the 
new year's greeting of an old and honoured correspondent, “D., Deal" 
” hetber it was innate modesty, which so many admire who do not 
possess it, or merely a literary flourish to anticipate the public verdict 
on his production would be “ bad at the best,” I know not; but this 
know, it is not my verdict. On the contrary, I consider the greeting 
admirable, and when we remember it is the work—pleasurable work 
obviously—of a twenty-five-years regular contributor, it is, I think, 
little ehort of wonderful. Who amongst the younger scribes can hope 
to write so freshly after an intellectual drain of a quarter of a century ? 
Instead of its being penned by the “ oldest inhabitant,” it might in some 
respects pass well as the happy effort of a writer just in the heyday of 
manhood. It is jaunty, agreeable, hopeful, and encouraging, and it con¬ 
tains a maxim that could only be born of experience—“ Attempt what is 
possible, not what is impracticable, and don’t get beyond your depth.” 
To comment on that would be to weaken it. Let it be remembered, for it 
is not often that more wisdom is condensed in a line and a half. More 
power to the “ old boy,” good health, increased friendships, no woolly 
aphis, and few floral failures during the current year. 
Turning over a leaf still new—we most of us pretend to do that at 
the beginning of a year—I find “ B.” writing sensibly on keeping Apples. 
He is right. The fruit will keep just as well in heaps as in the fashion¬ 
able “ single layers,” if only sound examples be stored ; even a good deal 
better buried like Potatoes than in too warm and too dry rooms. Tons 
of cider and culinary Apples are kept in this way as long as any others, 
and in the case of a few decaying the evil is not communicated quickly 
to others under these cool conditions. If it is desired to preserve a few 
choice late specimens as long as possible, wrap each in a few folds of 
tissue paper, then brown paper, and store in close boxes in a cold cellar. 
Do not use old newspaper, or the fruit may be flavoured with printer’s 
ink, which is not always palatable either there or in “ the press.” Your 
correspondent is right on another point. Quantities of Apples and Pears 
are spoiled by being gathered too soon. It is much better to let them 
wait for a slight frost than to break them off the trees by twisting the 
stalks. 
I AM obliged to Mr. Temple for recording his experience on the effects 
of tar in Peach houses, not because it confirms my suspicions, but be¬ 
cause his evidence is more weighty than mine, and the lesson is enforced 
that it is dangerous to keep tar anywhere near ripening fruit. I am 
quite as willing to be opposed as sustained in anything advanced, for 
while endeavour is made not to write recklessly and without as much 
deliberation as can be afforded, a stray “ thought ” may need correction, 
and I earnestly hope may be corrected. 
For instance, thinking quickly over the subject, I am impelled to say 
that the elaborate Potato experiments that have been conducted at 
Chiswick during the last two years, and recorded on page 5, are of no 
practical value—or rather perhaps it should be said the results are far 
from being commensurate with the labour, well and worthily as it has 
been applied. What are we told ? That Potatoes not earthed produce 
several greened tubers. Did not all the gardeners in the land know that 
years ago ? That bending down and consequently rupturing the stems of 
the plants reduced the weight of tubers. How could it be otherwise ? 
Had the summer been wet instead of dry the experiment would have 
been ruinous. If the Special Committee make further experiments, let 
me suggest that they tie the stems of some plants up, so that all the 
leaves are fully exposed to the light and air, and break some of the 
others down. If they will do this, and the former do not yield a crop of 
tubers 20 per cent, better than the latter, I will engage to eat the lot if 
allowed and afforded time. 
In my opinion the “ Jensenian system ” of earthing Potatoes much 
deeper than is customary is incorrect as regards its origin, and the 
Royal Horticultural Society is engaged in the dignified occupation of 
nursing a philosopher’s fad. As has been more than once published in 
this Journal, the system of repeatedly “moulding” or -‘crowning” the 
roots of Potatoes with earth has been practised on a ten times larger scale 
in this country and for a ten times longer periud than in the Chiswick 
experiments, long before Professor Jensen’s name was hear! of in this 
country. Let no one imagine that I advance any claim to the authorship 
of the practice. I am, like the Chiswick experimenters, an imitator. I 
have tried it and found it answer in wet seasons, but should be as sorry 
to pretend it is the Thinkerian system as the Royal Horticultural Society 
would be to claim it as the Chiswickian. It is neither Thinkerian, 
Chiswickian, nor Jensenian if we go to the origin of the practice, as we 
should do for authorship. And where are we led ? Among the savages. 
The system has been borrowed from the Aborigines of New Zealand. It 
is the established method of culture of the Maories, and if it is neces¬ 
sary to give it a scientific name the right one is the Maorian system. 
This is “one to the savages ” in these days of advanced civilisation, and 
we may expect to see the “ New Zealander on London Bridge ” soon. 
The only conclusion having a practical bearing that appears to have 
been arrived at in the Chiswick experiments as regards extra earthing, is 
the probability that its effects differ in differing varieties. This may be 
so, but of what earthly use is the knowledge by the side of a> epusl 
probability of the results varying in differing seasons? During the cold 
wet summers of the last two decades the crowning method proved advan¬ 
tageous where it was adopted, but in the more favourable seasons of the 
past few years the returns did not compensate for the extra labour 
involved ; and if the extra labour devoted to the rows at Clvswick were 
taken into account, as it ought to have been, the slightly increased value 
of the produce may have been purchased rather dearly. As no account 
