300 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
[September 4. 
the resolute hand of her benefactress; hut it was sad uphill 
work. She could not bear to be clean or stationary; and 
the attempt to place her with respectable people in a cottage, 
signally failed. She could not sit still, or bear to do as they 
did ; and she loved best to roll herself up in the first shed 
that offered itself, and spend her days in miserable inde- 
: pendance. 
One day, a very respectable middle-aged man arrived at 
the village, and made diligent inquiries after this poor old 
creature. A search was set on foot, and she was brought 
out of some wretched hovel, all dirt and decrepitude, to 
receive her son! How they met, and how they parted, 
under such astounding circumstances on both sides, must be 
imagined. His distress and dismay was great, but his stay 
was obliged to be so short, that he could only leave his 
directions with a friendly neighbour, and return hastily to 
his ship. He left money for her use, and declared his 
intention of making her a handsome weekly allowance, that 
she might enjoy the simple comforts of life in her declining 
years; but it all came too late to give pleasure. The joy of 
meeting her long-lost son was the only feeling she ex¬ 
perienced; and the hope of seeing him again seemed to 
take full possession of her mind, but as to cleanliness and 
home comforts, they were odious to her still. 
Mrs. B- at length procured her a little morsel of a 
cottage; in fact it was but one room; but it w r as all to 
herself, and she could go in and out at her pleasure. There 
her kind friend contrived to keep her, and did all she could 
to make her live like a human being; but as to spiritual 
impressions, she was dead and insensible. Her son was the 
one only futurity on which she fixed her poor, dim mind; 
and like all earthly futurities, it cruelly failed her. He 
! never came again. Once only a remittance arrived, accorcl- 
| ing to his promise, but from that hour to this, he never 
! either came or sent; and his poor mother longed and 
' lingered month after month, and year after year in vain, 
j Now her earthly cares are ended; she sleeps in a narrow 
! cell; but she knew nothing of spiritual hope or fear, her 
| mind could not take them in, and the feeble lamp went out 
; in terrific unconcern. 
What a warning to us all! The interest of the simple 
j narrative seems lost in the awfulness of the lesson it 
| conveys. A youth spent without God, an old age passed 
| without repentance, lead to a death-bed without consolation 
j or hope. We may not be such loathsome objects to our 
! fellow-men as poor old Sally; but in tbe sight of God we 
are the same. We may have neat and respectable clothing, 
we may wear stars and orders, and gold and ermine, but 
unless we have on the Lamb’s “wedding garment” too, our 
death-scene will also be without consolation or hope. 
OBTAINING NATURAL FLOWERS IN WINTER. 
Choose some of the most perfect buds of the flowers you 
wish to preserve, such as are the latest in blooming, ready 
to open; cut them off with a pair of scissors, leaving to 
each, if possible, a piece of the stem about three inches 
long; cover the end of the stem immediately with sealing- 
wax, and when the buds are a little shrunk, wrap each of 
them separately in a piece of paper, perfectly clean and 
dry, and lock them up in a dry box or drawer, and they will 
keep without corrupting. In winter, or any other time, 
when you would have the flowers blow, take the buds over 
night, cut the end of the stem, and put the buds into water, 
wherein a little nitre or salt has been infused, and the next 
day you will see the buds open and expand themselves, and 
the flowers display their most lively colours, and breathe 
their agreeable odours.— Thomas Jones, Seedsman and 
Florist, Chetton , near Bridgenorth . 
[As this comes to us with a signature, we insert it, but we 
do so without expressing any opinion as to the efficacy of 
the direction. It is easily tried.—E d. C. G.] 
PLANTING. 
The philosophy of vegetation is very beautiful, and the 
science of vegetable physiology very wonderful; but without 
entering into these abstruse and mind-absorbing techni¬ 
calities, T wish to show, in a common-place point of view, 
the practical means and observations on planting, as they 
forced themselves upon a person possessed, I hope, of the 
qualities which enable him faithfully to record them. I 
could wish this little treatise to be a sort of planting-made- 
easy, palpable to every unprejudiced person; and to convince 
that the planting and management of a fruit-tree is not a 
thing to be frightened at, yet, at the same time, to impress 
that its management is not to be undertaken without an 
amount of prudence and forethought. 
A few years ago, I had just completed planting some 
young forest-trees in a church-yard, to shut out a farm 
building which bared its front rather too boldly opposite 
my employer’s entrance gate, a tall man passed by that way, 
who, with a copious current of contempt, sarcastically ob¬ 
served—“I wonder who we shall get for woodmen next?” 
alluding, I supposed, to his own profession. I wondered so 
too, and at the same time thought I should have liked to 
have been one vastly, for it appeared an easy, lucrative em¬ 
ployment—very. 
From November to March is the proper period for plant¬ 
ing deciduous trees, though, if done before Christmas, you 
are in the enviable situation of the early bird. 
The roots of trees take the precedence, and naturally go 
before the branch ; if this is doubted, take a spade, cut a 
trench on the outside of the circumference of the branches, 
and deny that the soil is not intersected with young fibres, 
and also deny that the young fibres or spongioles are not 
the principle feeders and mouths whence the sap is con¬ 
veyed to the roots, which, traced from the spongioles to the 
bole, become large by degrees, till their chief end and 
design is strength to support the natural structure, enlarg¬ 
ing annually above them, and main channels to supply the 
nourishment of the tree. The large roots are comparatively 
useless as food -producers. Here is a beautiful adaptation of 
the means to the end, which could be enlarged upon to the 
bulk of a volume. 
As Mrs. Glasse, of famous memory, would observe, first 
lake up your tree and then plant it. Suppose a young, 
healthy tree arrived to you with the roots cut and mangled 
with the spade, or otherwise, from the careless and rude 
manner in which it has been forced up (I will not say taken 
up) from its nursery, with its branches flourishing to their 
fullest extent. Now, does it occur to one individual out of 
a hundred, that the branches of a tree (if its removal is 
contemplated) should be shortened one-third, if a small 
one, and one-half, if a large one, six weeks, at least, before 
the sap has done circulating in the autumn ? The roots in 
this case would, before it was removed, fill every bud to 
bursting, and sap-vessel to overflowing. 
In proceeding to take up a tree for the purpose of trans¬ 
planting, whether a large or small one, begin at the ex¬ 
tremities of the roots (or otherwise, so to speak, in order to 
adopt a system, in a circumference with the outside of the 
branches); dig a narrow trench completely round, let the 
depth be guided by the roots, and so open as merely to 
admit the breadth of a shovel; now, with a three-tined fork, 
and a pecker, gradually work away the soil from the roots, 
and shovel it out from the trench, to make way to work 
freely, and not become “ muddled up,” as you carefully trace 
the roots towards the stem of the tree. 
The quantity of soil left adhering to the roots towards 
the bole depends upon the power and convenience you have 
of removal; it is a good practice always to leave a certain 
portion, and if the tree is very large a considerable quantity. 
Handle the small fibres as tenderly as you would an infant; 
every large root that shows a propensity to grow downwards, 
must be sawn off and the wound smoothed with a sharp 
knife. The merest novice will understand me, I hope, when i 
I reiterate and impress—every root possible, with the excep¬ 
tion of tap-roots, must be carefully preserved. If trouble 
is an object in the way, leave the thing alone altogether; far 
better allow a space to remain unoccupied for other useful 
purposes, than to see “ a half-dead-and-alive monument, 
lifting its poor wizzened prow,” pointing as a mark of con¬ 
tempt, at your not having performed the operation in a skil¬ 
ful manner, and thus outraged nature. 
The previous diminution of top, mentioned above, being 
in ratio with the roots now the tree is taken up (for, take a 
tree up however carefully you may, a considerable number 
