December 2 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
from far below the surface will often become covered 
with charlock. This is <vn oily-seeded plant, and 
such seeds, when thus excluded from the air, retain 
their vitality most pertinaciously, for reasons already 
assigned. 
The atmosphere contains rather more than one- 
fifth of its weight of oxygen gas, and this is the pro¬ 
portion most favourable to the germination of the 
majority of fresh seeds. Indeed, few seeds will ger¬ 
minate when this proportion is much reduced. Ra¬ 
dish seed refuses to do so when it amounts to no 
more than one-fortieth part, and lettuce seeds re¬ 
quire in it at the least one-sixth, when it amounts to 
only one-eightli, they refuse to germinate. This is 
a reason why, of all kitchen-garden seeds, the lettuce 
requires the most shallow sowing. So far are plants, 
at their first germination, from being benefitted by 
the application of stimulants, as is supposed by the 
advocates of those menstrua, that, if the air supplied 
to them during that process is contaminated by sti¬ 
mulating vapours, such as that of sulphuric tether, 
camphor, spirits of turpentine, or ammonia, germi¬ 
nation is always, in some degree, retarded and in¬ 
jured. Old seeds are alone those which require the 
additional stimulus of more oxygen to enable them 
to germinate, and this is most readily afforded by 
moistening them with a solution of chlorine, which 
slowly extracts the hydrogen from water, and sets at 
liberty its oxygen within the integuments (skins) of 
the seeds. 
How oxygen operates in aiding the seed to de¬ 
velop the parts of the embryo plant we cannot even 
g Uess — we only know that most seeds have more 
carbon (pure charcoal) in their composition than 
other parts of their parent plants; that the oxygen 
absoibed by the seeds combines with a portion of 
that extra carbon, and is emitted in the form of car¬ 
bonic acid. These are the attendant phenomena, 
but we can penetrate the mystery no farther. 
We have just had placed before us a series of papers 
for folding up flower seeds, which are particularly 
useful, and, therefore, deserving of general patron¬ 
age. At present, when a packet of seeds is pur¬ 
chased, the shopman does no more than enclose it 
in brown paper, and write upon it (not always in 
the most decipherable of characters) the name and 
quantity. In place of these brown-paper inutilities, 
there is now offered to the trade a complete series of 
white papers, of the form and size most desirable, 
for enclosing flower seeds, with the name, and other 
particulars useful to be known by the purchaser 
printed upon them. For example— 
Viscauia oculata (Darlc-eyed Viscaria). 
Nat Ord, Caryophyllacere.—Native of Algiers.—Cult. 1843.— 
Annual; lift., branchingfl., rose, dark centre; July and August, 
Culture .—A neat plant for groups and mixed borders. Sow in 
March in gentle heat, plant into small pots, and transplant to 
the open ground the end of April; and for succession, in open 
ground in March and June. Rich light garden soil. 
1(13 
These labels being prepared by Mr. Moore, Cu¬ 
rator of the Botanic Gardens, Chelsea, and by Mr. 
Wm. P. Ayres, of Blackheath, are to be relied upon 
for correctness, and we recommend purchasers to 
obtain their seeds packed in these useful envelopes. 
THE FRUIT-GARDEN. 
The Cucumber: Preparation of Dung for Beds. 
—This, although generally classed with vegetables, 
or, indeed, with salads, yet maintains a position 
amongst our fruits; although a kind of anomalous 
one. As our worthy coadjutors do not seem to have 
touched on the culture of these for early work, we 
hope to be pardoned for calling the attention of 
the amateur, and those who garden on a limited 
scale, to some preliminaries necessary in order to 
obtain them early, and with certainty. 
We shall not say anything about hothouse cu¬ 
cumbers in this paper, believing that the majority of 
our readers still grow them on the old-fashioned 
dung-bed, against which there exists little objection, 
except that it is a monopolism of labour as well as 
of fermenting material; otherwise it is well suited 
to the habits of the cucumber. 
For our part, we would not have a garden esta¬ 
blishment, of any repute, in the kingdom without a 
cucumber house (although it were only a few yards 
long), heated by hot water; believing that such 
would in the end be much more economical, and, 
certainly, more productive ; for a house of the kind, 
properly planned, will produce cucumbers all the 
year with comparatively little trouble. But of this 
more by-and-by. 
Preparing the Dung. —We will begin, then, with 
the fermentation of the dung; and on this, simple 
as it may seem, much of the success depends at a 
very early season. Your dung must be “ sweet," 
says old blue apron; and very correct the opinion 
is. New dung from the stable door, as is well 
known, contains a vast amount of hurtful gases, 
which, as to cucumber culture, must be dissipated 
by fermentation, or, as the old gardeners used to call 
it, “ sweating.” Space will not permit us to show 
how this takes place; we must merely be content 
with the fact, that dung thrown into a body will fer¬ 
ment, or heat; and that the intensity of the heating 
is in proportion to the bulk of the material, the 
freshness of it, and its character as to the diet of the 
horses, or other stock. On the latter point, we 
merely mean that the higher the quality of the food 
the greater the fermentative proportions, and vice 
versa. We all know that leaves — ordinary tree- 
leaves—are excellent material for building hot-beds ; 
we stay not here to discuss their character, but merely 
to recommend their use in a considerable proportion: 
and to observe that if such are to be mixed with the 
dung it should be when the dung has become sweet, 
and this will be at the last turning; for the dung at 
this early period will require turning some three or 
four times. 
We will now suppose a heap of dung drawn fresh 
from the stable door for a frame of three lights—say 
three or four one-horse cart-loads. When leaves 
are to be mixed with the mass alternately we prefer 
shaking out a portion of the mere droppings, as their 
powerful and violently heating character is averse to 
durability in the mass—the durability of the heat 
being much to be desired. The remainder is thrown 
into a compact heap to ferment, which will be the 
case in a day or two ; but, if cutting winds prevail, 
