121 
THE COTTAGE GAEDENEE. 
November 18. 
as liandsome a fruit as over went to tabic. iMany 
gardeners cannot grow this pine at all. If it gets the 
least too wet or too damp in winter it turns sulky, and 
: they cannot bring it round again. There was a basket 
of tlio true fVesl'ii iSl.l'eier’s Gnij/e, and one of il/a.vtv/.te, 
neither of which would bo (juite rijio before no-vt 
Christmas. This rainy, cloudy, and muggy autumn, 
must have taught a severe lesson to all those gardeners 
j who maintain that late grapes should not be forced. 
There never was a greater mistake. Keep them I'rom 
“breaking” as late in the spring as you j>lcase, but 
when they do come into leaf, they ought to have as 
niucli heat and moisture as air ])lants, until the fruit 
begins to turn colour. Even greenhouse gra 2 )es, as the 
Hamhrough, are im])rovcd by a ])usli from tlie first 
coming of the bunch to six weeks after the setting of 
the berries. 
The Citron tribe were from Mr. Piper, gardener to 
E. V. Digby, Esg., of Mintcrn, Dorsetshire, 1 hapi)cn 
to know them both, but 1 cannot tell who is the best 
gardener—the master or the man. They are both bests, 
and their large Citrons and Mandarine Oranges were 
very much admired at this meeting. A gentleman in 
the room told mo that they grow the Mandarine Orange, 
at Mintcrn, in the greenhouse as freely as gooseberries, 
and that lie had a basketful of them last August. 
Citrons, after they lay twelve months in preserve, make 
a beautiful dish at table, eithci’ whole or quartered; if 
whole, they will keep I know not how long. Ordinary 
Limes are better than Lemons in the kitchen, and, 
bettor still in whisky-punch, or anything good and hot 
with a spoon in it; but sweet Limes, like those from 
Mr. Digby, arc scarce articles, and arc as good as the 
best oranges. 
There was a line-looking Yellow Turnip, called the 
“ Orange Jelly,” of which they spoke very highly. It 
was raised by Mr. Chivas, of Chester. Celery, tSpinach, 
Kohl Rahi, Peas, and some other vegetables were shown, 
with a Ling or (2ueon of the Veyetnhle Marrow tribe, 
weighing lOis jibs.—it looked like Duru’s “ Great chieftain 
o’ the puddiu’-race’’—a Scotch haggis. D. Deaton. 
OXALIS DOWEIl, AND OTHEE SPECIES. 
Enouiuies as to these not blooming; and complaints 
as to their not growing, not forcing, and jirodncing 
fine foliage but indill'erent ilowers, 1 hope will be met 
by the following short outline of culture. 
For this beautiful s{>ccies, as well as for others the 
most charming of the family, we are indebted to that 
land ol bulbs and heaths, the Capo of Good llo])e. The 
whole have more or less ol a peculiar acid taste, which, 
when not in excess, is very agreeable. 1*1 ven the most un¬ 
initiated may form some idea of the form of the leaves 
and Ilowers ol the grouj) by examining those of the little 
Oxalis Acelosella, lound often so plentifully in woods, but 
no idea could thus be formed of the maguiliccnce of the 
])resent species, with its largo crimson flowers. It is 
generally described as a plant only a few inches in 
height, but, though it has no stem, it is no uncommon 
thing to see the flowers rising on strong stalks to 
from twelve to seventeen inches in height. Eow things 
will beat it, either in a greenhouse or v/indow, on a fine 
bright day in autumn. It is generally considered an 
autumn flower, but, like many other Cajio bulbs, the 
time ot hloomimj depends upon the time of rcstiny 
and starting into growth. Dy successions, 1 have 
had it in bloom lor seven or eight months out of 
the twelve; a clashimj of the bulbs carelessly together 
destroyed the arrangement. Tiiey can only bo brought 
into this succession mode gradually, as each bulb 
re([uires the greater part of a twelvemonth to start, 
grow, bloom, mature, and rest itself. Forced they may 
be, but they do not like it; an anxious amateur would, 
however, soon get over the little dilficulty. Even 
should his bulbs start much about the same time, yet 
the keeping of a juirt as cool as to bo safe, and giving 
tlie others extra heat, will make in the first season a 
considerable dillbrcnco in the time of blooming; this 
first lot may be then kept separate, and treated in the 
same manner another sefison. Thus wo have seen it 
bloom from May to December; the medium between 
these two extremes is the period when it will bloom 
best with little trouble, in sheltered situations it might 
then do out-of-doors. I will confine myself to tlie 
growing it in ]K)ts. 
Istly. Choosiny Plants.—Proler growing plants, or even 
jihints finished flowering, but with the foliage green; 
the reason is, that thus you may be sure of well-ripened 
bulbs by such treatment ns will luoseutly be recom¬ 
mended. Failuig such plants in pots, choose the largest, 
firmest, and hrownest looking bulbs yon can find. If 
soft, or bagged with watery juices, the consequence of 
cutting away the foliage too early, you may get foliage, 
but your flowers will be weak and scanty. 
2 ndly. Starting into groteth.—Unless particularly 
wanted, I would not advise this being done during the 
dark months of winter. If growtli commences in 
March, bloom may be cxjiectcd in dune and July. It 
is best to place the tuberous bulbs, with their small ends 
upiiermost, in pans or saucers covered over with earth, 
rather dry than otherwise, and just kejit in that state. 
A moist, warm place will cause them to shoot sooner; 
but in the early part of the season 1 would not advise 
an average temperature produced by lire heat above 50'-'. 
it is better to hurry growth by closeness, warmth, and 
yet plenty of light afterwards. As soon, however, as the 
bidbs begin to shoot, before roots commenco to form to 
any extent, they should be placed 
Jrdly. In their Jloweringpots .—These should range 
from six-inch pots for windows, to those from eight 
inches to twelve inclios for greenhouses Drainage of 
course must be attended to. Over the drainage a layer of 
old dried cow'-dung, in small hard bits, mixed with 
charcoal, will be an advantage. The soil should consist 
of equal parts of sandy fibry loam, and fibry ))eat, with a 
little charcoal; but fine plants may bo produced from 
sandy well-aired loam and a little rotten leaf mould, or 
old cow-dung, 'i’ho soil should be neither wet nor dry. 
1 must try and c.\]ilain what I mean. “ Oh, something 
about minding pennies, and ))ounds will take care of 
themselves.” Well, just so; 1 am no advocate for the 
contracted and miserly; but, somehow, without these 
h'tt/f'i'wo cannot get on in gardening. Dut to the soil; 
take half-a-handfid and close your fingers over it firmly ; 
if on opening your hand the soil remains call in apiece, 
shewing the maiks of your fingers, but falls to pieces 
when you lay it gently down on the potting bench, it is 
just in the right slate; if it will not remain in one mass 
in your hand, it is too dry; if, when you jdaco it on 
the bench, it remains without falling to jiieces, it is too 
wet. In the one case, you must damji with a line rose; 
in the other, you must dry; and either oj>eration will 
save you future labour ami uncertainty. I*’ill the -[lots 
with this soil to within about two inches of the surface, 
firming it a little; then jilace the bulbs, small ends 
upwards, equally over it; about eight bulbs will fill the 
largest ])ot well, and yield a large mass of Ilowers ; but 
if the bulbs are small, add a few more. Sprinkle in the 
earth amongst them, and over them so that their points 
arc covered. Dy-and-by, when the llowcr-stalks arc 
showing, and the leaves are getting the size of a half¬ 
penny, the soil will have sunk a little so as to allbrd 
room for a top-dressing of old cow-dung, and over that 
the fastidious may throw a sprinkling of fine soil just 
to hide it. 
■Ithly. IVatering .—Of course you will water none 
