42 A 
HINTS IN CELERY CULTURE. 
I step out of my ordinary path to oblige a number of 
friends, and to meet alike a mass of inquiries and com¬ 
plaints that the Celery is bolting again, as usual. I do 
not think I can add anything to what was given in a 
previous article; but some, who thought they detected 
the initials, complain, that it was not practical enough 
for them,—and that there must be some other little mat¬ 
ters of importance to know, that render a bolted head 
of Celery such an uncommon thing with me, and such a 
common thing with them. I do not believe there is a 
particle of difference between my practice and that which 
generally prevails, except in the simple matter of earth¬ 
ing-up early Celery, to which attention was previously 
directed. 
There are some neighbourhoods famous for certain 
things. Manchester has long been celebrated for its 
Celery. Some years ago, I was walking round with a 
party of visitors, some of them from Manchester, and 
the Celery there became such a matter of eulogium, 
that I made bold to ask for a packet of seed being sent 
me,—as much was said to depend upon the kind. My 
own Celery was very good just then, the beginning of 
September; and, on some heads being turned out and 
examined, the Manchester men at once ackhowledged it 
was of no use sending me seed,—and what puzzled them 
chiefly was, that in all the rows they could not find a 
run head. Atj that time there was a Horticultural So¬ 
ciety in Luton, and first-rate Celery,—combining crisp¬ 
ness, size, and good blanching,—used to be exhibited in 
September. What was wanted of this Celery was forth¬ 
coming at the dinner of the members and friends in the 
evening; and there it would have been of no use to 
propound the generally received opinion, that there was 
something antagonistic between large, well-grown Ce¬ 
lery, and its due crispness and sweetness. Of course, it 
is possible to give such a gross feeder as Celery immense 
size, with rank manures, and the flavour would thus be 
deteriorated; but of two heads, grown with the assist¬ 
ance of very rotten dung or decomposed leaf-mould, the 
one small and the other large,—commend me to the 
large one for the most desirable qualities. The best 
Celery at Luton generally came from gardens close to, 
and intersected by, ditches and water-courses having a 
connection with the river Lea. So that, with all the 
aids of cultivating, the Celery plants were placed, as 
nearly as possible, in the very situation in which the 
wild Celery delights,—the sides of ditches, where the 
roots can have almost an unlimited supply of moisture 
without being obliged to stand in stagnant water. 
There are one lesser and one greater objections against 
having very large Celery, altogether independent of the 
crispness and flavour question ; and these united are so 
conclusive, that it would be folly to grow much of the 
crop of a very large size. The first of these consists in 
the extra attention and care required to obtain large 
heads at an early period, say on the 1st of September, 
though many have large heads in August; and the 
second consists in the still greater care required to 
preserve these large heads from rotting and spoiling 
after they have arrived at maturity ; merely because the 
heavy dews and rains, some of which, with every care 
in banking up, will find their way to the heart of the 
plant, and there stagnate and produce decay; while 
in lesser heads, the moisture will find its way out at the 
base of the leaves. I gave up growing large plants 
chiefly on account of the loss and disappointment thus 
occasioned; and because I could not prevent that loss, 
after the plants were earthed-up, by any less trouble- 
! some mode than having an elevated roof of some kind, 
which would throw off the rain and yet permit the 
action of sun and air. 
Keeping in view that our native Smallage, the pro¬ 
September 11. j 
genitor of all our Celeries, delights in the side of a ditch, 
or marsh, where the water moves, however slowly, and, 
also, that it is a biennial, that is, grows one season and 1 
flowers the next, we are at once presented with the key¬ 
note to its successful culture. Most of even amateurs 
are aware that it is quite possible to make the most of 
biennials bloom the first season, and bloom well too, by 
sowing early, growing luxuriantly, and, in many cases, 
checking growth afterwards, by transplanting, diminu¬ 
tion of water, &c., so as to induce the flowering habit. 
They do this on the principle, that luxuriance of growth 
and early and abundant blooming are antagonistic to 
each other. They act with their flowering and fruiting 
plants as if they were perfectly aware, that when they 
arrest mere luxuriance and the production of wood-buds, 
the plant, true to its natural instincts, would put forth 
its efforts in another way,—the production of flowers and 
seeds to continue its kind. Some of these have directed 
my attention to an old, gnarled Apple-tree, covered with 
fruit, while a young, luxuriant, fine-looking plant was 
destitute of the same, and asked me what I thought of 
root-pruning. I have had many essays upon how 
they bloomed a rare plant by a system of checks; and 
yet, from these very persons I have had complaint upon 
complaint that their Celery is bolting again. Why ? 
Because, with the full knowledge that Celery is a 
biennial, that like other biennials, it may be made to 
bloom the first season, and knowing full well that that 
blooming is to be avoided by every possible means, 
they yet adopt the very means most calculated to pro¬ 
duce that undesirable result, either by checks at an early 
period, or by a mode of earthing-up, which, while it 
exposes the whole of the foliage to the sun and air 
to throw off moisture by evaporation, leaves the roots, 
ultimately, thoroughly dry, unable to find moisture to 
supply the evaporation, and thus forcing the plant, in 
self defence, to throw up its flower-stalk,—in common 
terms, to bolt. 
Varieties. —I have grown almost all kinds, Man¬ 
chester, Seymour's, Coles, Nutt's, Siberian, &c., and 
found every sort good, and no great difference between 
them, provided they were solid, not hollow, in the leaf¬ 
stalks, and well grown without checks. 
Time of Sowing. —I have sown at all times, from 
Christmas to April, and with similar results; only the 
earlier the plants are sown, the more trouble they re¬ 
quire to keep them in continuous healthy growth, and 
the earlier they come in. To get plants for the table in 
September, the end of February and the first week in 
March is early enough to sow in a hotbed. These 
plants should again be pricked under glass, and never 
allowed to staud still, until they are turned out into the 
trenches at the end of May. More success will attend 
those sown in the middle of March than in the middle 
of February, unless great attention is given, to keep the 
young plants growing regularly on, and then there is no 
fear of flower-stalks. At the end of March, or beginning 
of April, I sow again, — either in a slight hotbed, on 
such a place as I can protect with sashes or mats until 
the plants are up. These last are generally pricked-out 
upon a border, shaded and protected at first. The great 
thing is never to let the plant have a check, from want of 
water, &c., from the time they are up, until earthed-up 
for the winter. My plants had to stand rough treatment 
this summer, as I had no water to give them for a 
month; those in the pricked-out beds, and in the trenches, 
have to take their chance,—but evaporation from the 
soil was modified by surface stirrings, and a slight 
covering of short grass; and though, no doubt, dry, I 
have not yet seen a bolted head. 
Time of Planting. —The first are generally turned out 
from the middle to the end of May, lifting them care¬ 
fully with all their roots; the material in which they 
were pricked-out being chiefly fresh loam and decom- 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
