SEPTEMBER. 
195 
been the hybridiser. To witness the uplifting of a “new creation” in the 
form of a flower, brings round that ephemeral “ thing of beauty” a charm 
something akin to that w’hich thrills through the being of a devotee to science, 
when some new discovery comes up from the Lazarus-grave of existent but 
hidden life. 
My window within doors has been very gay during the past month, though 
it could not vie in brilliancy with the box of bedding plants Outside of it. 
From this the hot dry sunny days have called forth hundreds of blossoms ; and 
by sprinkling the plants overhead night and morning they are kept fresh and 
free from the inevitable accumulations of dust. Inside the house a glass dish 
of Countess of Ellesmere Petunia, suspended from the top of the window, 
is a mass of rosy crimson flowers. It contains about six plants—and how they 
revel in the "warm sun by day, and the cooling breath of the evening zephyr ! 
When their part is played a rustic vase, filled with Thunbergias, will succeed 
them. Though these last are making rapid growth, I am yet apprehensive 
that the season is too far advanced to flower them. 
I have discarded large-flowering and Fancy Pelargoniums for the Zonale 
and like strains. The aphides invested the others far too closely—they literally, 
besieged them, and placed them under strict arrest. Of Zonales I have 
Madame Vaucher, almost a pure white; Frederick Desbois, light crimson 
centre, with white edging; the Old Kingsbury Pet, and Beauty of Dulwich, 
a glowing scarlet, sent out by Smiths’, but which will not be in flower for a 
few days. I hear it spoken very highly of. Then a plant of Christine, in 
a small spot, is almost flowering itself to death; another of Quercifolium 
coccineum, having had its day, is quietly reposing in the shade, preparing for 
a future service. 
A plant of Trachelium cceruleum, one of Bouvardia leucantha, and a 
specimen Fuchsia, Venus de Medici, all in full flower, are unquestionably the 
belles of my monthly seasons. The first-named has six flower-stalks, on which 
there are something like thirty trusses of small tubular lilac flowers, and 
numbers issuing likewise. I am vastly pleased with the Trachelium as a 
window plant. The Bouvardia is full of flower, and rapidly throws succession 
blossoms. Its showy scarlet flowers are very attractive in a window, and I 
hope it will continue to bloom for some weeks to come— 
“ Till thy bright blossoms wreathe stern Winter’s brow, 
Like glittering stars that in the dark skies glow.” 
Quo. 
ON GATHERING AND KEEPING FRUIT, 
MORE PARTICULARLY PEARS AND APPLES. 
Of all the many and various operations which a gardener has to perform 
during the year, there are few, if any, that require to be done with more 
care, attention, and judgment than the gathering and keeping of fruit. As 
the time for doing this is at hand, I think I cannot offer anything more 
seasonable than a few remarks on the subject. 
To gather fruit at the right time, to preserve it in good order, and to ripen 
it properly, is an art in itself, and one for which considerable accommodation 
and convenience are indispensably necessary; and yet, strange to say, but 
no more strange than true, a structure properly adapted for the keeping of 
fruit is only occasionally to be met with. In many places we find the most 
wretched makeshift for keeping fruit—a shed, cellar, or loft—the very opposite 
of those principles upon which a fruit-room should be built. 
