September 20, 1894. 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
277 
must be no unmeaning mixture of ideas, but each attempt well conceived 
and smartly carried out. The pleasure to be derived from these elaborate 
displays is doubtless somewhat fleeting, but we must not forget it is the 
one thing wanted to complete the picture of luxury and refinement, and 
seems thoroughly in harmony with the imposing splendour which 
reigns around; and it is usually with feelings of satisfaction that the 
dinner-table decorator contemplates his work with the consciousness 
that while doing his duty he has also contributed to one of the highest 
forms of human enjoyment. 
(To be concluded.) 
PROGRESS IN FRUIT AT MAIDSTONE. 
Without in the least suggesting that great progress has not been 
made elsewhere, but, on the contrary, admitting it most readily, it is 
not the less a fact, firm and incontrovertible, that an enormous advance 
both in the raising of fruit trees and the development of fruit, has been 
made at Maidstone during the past few years. The work of some of our 
great caterers for the fruit-growing community has had attention in the 
Journal of Horticulture, either quite recently, or at no remote period, 
and it is conceivable that something will be heard about other centres 
of tree production. Amongst these the great Kentish emporium, of 
which Mr. George Bunyard is the able and enterprising head, occupies 
a far too commanding position to be ignored. 
In addition, the acquisition of special knowledge on the subject of 
fruit and other cognate matters pertaining to his vocation, Mr. Bunyard 
is a man of great business capacity. He is, moreover, imbued with a 
spirit of persevering industry, and no slight obstacles will prevent his 
accomplishing whatever object he may have in view. He has high aims 
and aspirations. The greatest attainable excellence would appear to be 
his motto in whatever he sets himself to do. He has done much in his 
time—done what few could have accomplished in expanding a small 
local business to its present wide proportions, and, in fact, in “ making” 
out of next to nothing one of the greatest fruit nurseries in the world. 
And yet he is in his prime in mental and physical strength, ever looking 
onward, seeking for the best varieties of fruit and methods of produc¬ 
tion, testing and “ proving all things ” that come within the scope of 
his undertaking and which bear on the work in hand. Thus he has 
gained and is always gaining knowledge in the school of experience, 
this entitling him to rank as a master in the art with which he is 
identified. Mr. Bunyard is, in a word, both an accomplished and a 
“live” nurseryman, combining professional skill with sober judgment 
and more than ordinary enterprise, and hence the high position he has 
won in the horticultural world. 
Let us take a glance at his work as it was seen three days ago. Two 
pilgrims on knowledge bent in fruit lore betook themselves to Maid¬ 
stone. One of them had been before, but the other was a stranger. One 
had lived long enough to cease to be surprised at anything, and was, 
therefore, not unprepared to find that Mr. Bunyard has added field 
to field till he is responsible for some 500 acres. The other, the younger 
of the twain, though he has seen much, and whose name is writ large in 
horticultural literature, was struck (not dumb) with amazement when 
he found himself in the forest of fruit trees, ready to be sent to wherever 
they may be required, even to the ends of the earth. The old man, after 
a quick glance over this “forest,” took things quietly, and sat in the 
office for an hour or two trying Pears, and seeing that Mr. Bunyard 
“ kept it handy—Grant’s Morello Cherry Brandy.” But he took no 
notes. The younger raced up and down the “ breaks,” making sundry 
dashes right and left as he espied something worthy of note, and “ took ” 
it, coming away with a bookful. What he will do with those voluminous 
notes remains to be waited for, for the whole will never be seen, as the 
enthusiastic scribe has probably found himself before now about as 
much bewildered by them as he was by the contents of the nursery. 
It will, perhaps, not be uninteresting to watch his movements prior 
to the “rest” among the Pears. Standing on a slight eminence, where 
he could see long stretches of young trees along the sides of the eight 
miles of roads and paths traversing them, and seeing the slopes of 
distant elevations clothed with Apples, Pears, Plums, and Cherries, he 
was compelled to find relief in exclamation—“ What a sight 1 What 
soil you must have, Mr. Bunyard I What beautiful air 1 What wonderful 
growth I What—wh—what (nervously)— what in the world shall you 
do with them all ? ” meaning the trees. “ Do with them ? ” was the 
quiet rejoinder, “why sell them, of course. We have always grown 
more and more every year, and they have always been wanted ; and 
depend upon it these will go too—why, many are sold already. This lot 
of Pears are grown to order, and these Cherries will soon be gone. What 
do you think of them?” “Think—why, they’re beauties. Just the 
right height, firm, and clean and down went something of the kind 
in the book. 
“ Now look at this break of Plums Mr. Noter, good for maidens, don’t 
you think ?” “ Whaat—maidens 1 why they are 7 feet high, and branched 
all up—never saw anything like it. What did you say, 25,000 Rivers’ 
Prolific ?” and the pencil was at work once more. Next came the two- 
year-olds of the leading kinds, some studded with handsome bluish 
purple fruits. “ Ah,” interjected the guide, ‘‘that is one of the finest 
Plums Mr. Rivers has raised ; it is Monarch, and will be in enormous 
demand.” Into the young man’s mouth went one of the Plums, and 
next something went into the book, followed by hieroglyphical characters 
in praise of Bradley’s King Damson, over which he went into ecstacies. 
Then we were invited to look down a bank of Apples on one hand, 
and Plums on the other, 40,000 of them—splendid planting trees. The 
stranger naturally wanted to know the names of them all, and filled a 
few more pages. 
Astonishment grew with farther inspection, and when we reached 
the acres of three-year-olds, fine thrifty bushes, hundreds of them laden 
with magnificent fruit, the excitement of the enthusiast became intense, 
particularly when he was told 400 bushels had been gathered and sold 
of the early Codlins, such as Lord Grosvenor, one of the most profitable 
of them all; Golden Spire, Pott’s Seedling, Grenadier, Gold Medal, and 
others of the type of which a few gigantic fruits remained—“as big as 
Turnips ” the noter muttered, and he will find some such entry in his 
book. What a sturdy bush the last-named Apple makes 1 and near it 
the fine habit of Royal Jubilee was also observed, both, no doubt, being 
duly recorded. But the trees, still laden with huge fruits glowing with 
colour, startled the stranger the most, the rosy crimson Bismarck, the 
brilliant scarlet Gascoyne’s Seedling, the richly striped Cox’s Pomona, 
the dark bronze red of Baumann’s Reinette, the huge and well-coloured 
clusters of Bramley’s Seedling, the handsome striped Beefings, Tyler’s 
Kernel, Peasgood’s Nonesuch, Wealthy, Lane’s Prince Albert, and others 
that cannot be remembered. But the splendid Ribstons and heavily 
laden dwarfs of Blenheim Pippin could not be forgotten. All these 
and a hundred others went down in the book. Such work the busy 
chronicler had not before seen, and he could scarcely believe his eyes as 
he danced from tree to tree scribbling as if for a wager. 
The season is notorious for the scarcity of Apples generally, but 
there is a wealth of magnificent fruit on the sturdy young trees 
in the quarter under notice at Allington. It is questionable if 
Mr. Bunyard ever had finer or better coloured Apples, and he will 
be 'able to stage well at the forthcoming Crystal Palace show of 
the Royal Horticultural Society. The wonderful crops are attributed 
by him to the thorough maturation of the wood under the influence of 
the tropical summer of last year ; but it must be remembered that the 
trees were not starved and stunted, also that mere roasting is not wood¬ 
ripening. The wonderful colour of the fruit greatly puzzled the man 
with the note-book, and he had a great deal of talking to himself over 
it. “ Where has all the colour come from ? What has done it ? Not 
direct sunshine, for there has been little or none. It is coloured all over. 
No, it can’t be that. Wonder if it is the soil ? Can scarcely be that 
alone. It must be something in the air. Can it be the ozone blowing 
from the sea ? ” Thus did the searcher for truth soliloquise, only to a. 
far greater extent than is set down, though the only verdict he appeared 
to arrive at was, “ The sun had not done it all, that was certain.”' 
Perhaps he did not think of the phosphatic and potassic elements in the 
soil, also a possible trace of sulphur and certainly of iron. Still, he 
must have noticed the trees were not crowded—mere thickets of soft 
shoots ; but that the wood was firm, short-jointed, the leaves thick, and 
the growths so disposed that the full influence of light and what sun 
there was could act directly on them, and it may be conceded there is 
more light on the heights above the beautiful Valley of the Medway 
than in most places that are much further distant from the sea coast. 
Those are the essential conditions both for ripening wood and colouring 
fruit, and the requisite combination of advantages appears to be effected 
in the position in question. 
Eventually we found ourselves among the Pears—trees of all shapes, 
laden with in most cases handsome fruits, though some had been injured 
by hail. From storms there is no shelter in this high and bleak position, 
and hence the sturdy growth all round. If the celebrated note-book 
could be examined it may be expected there would be an entry of 
50,000 Pear trees, and a register of the characters of many varieties, for 
the pencil was at work continually. The wielder of it had never seen 
Belle Julie before, with its crowd of russety green fruit—a Pear 
which in quality has no superiors and few equals in its season— 
October and November. He knew Pitmaston Duchess, in fact all 
the sorts in general cultivation very well, and rejoiced in 
the crop of fruit, but Rivers’ Conference made him pause and 
put down something like this in shorthand, “ Splendid habit, 
crop, and fruit, grand acquisition.” Then fine Triomphe de Vienne 
filled his eye, and he could not get past such as Beurrd Dubuisson 
(a favourite of the late Mr. Ingram of Belvoir), Beurr4 Baltet Pere, 
fine fruit on small trees ; Beurrd Mortillet, large and handsome; 
Fondante deTherriott, of the Passe Col mar type; Marguerite Marrillat, 
one of Mr, Bunyard’s favourites ; trees roped with fruit on bushes, 
pyramids, one, two, three and more branched cordons, espaliers of 
Doyennd du Cornice, Emile d’Heyst, Madame Treyve and a hundred 
more—all these kept him busy as if he had in view the compilation of a. 
catalogue. 
He had then to go “ through ” the Peaches and Nectarines, under 
glass and outdoors, trained and in pots, some still bearing, others ready 
for cropping next year and successively. He saw a fine stock of and 
learned a great deal about Rivers’ Early Nectarine, as the first to ripen, 
and the brightest and best of its season, setting all down for future 
reference—and trouble. Then he was scribbling away in three houses 
full of Figs, trees in small pots laden with fruits, and when he was told 
one was filled with “ Turks ” as the most useful, he put it down as a. 
new variety; but it was only the nursery abbreviation for Brown 
Turkey. Next he became almost dangerously excited over Apples in 
pots, representative of orchard house culture ; and grand they were, 
though there were equally large and brilliant specimens on trees in the 
open quarters. These latter he thought would be viewed with suspicion 
when exhibited as having been grown from the beginning to end in the 
nursery lines. . , u 
Just as a final glance in the Allington Nursery he was taken through 
