Mat 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
81 
green sprigs ; and the many wild creepers that cling 
to the trees and hushes give grace and richness too. 
It is surprising that so many who possess fine gar¬ 
dens, and parks full of rich and varied beauty, 
should, just at this season, choose the heated rooms 
and smoky air of London, when the country is so 
full of interest and loveliness, when God’s own 
works are so fresh and fair, and when all nature 
appears more especially to show forth His bounty 
and goodness to the children of men. How much 
of real, rational, and spiritual enjoyment is thus lost 
to the rich and noble, which the country resident 
and cottage gardener so fully possess, and ought so 
diligently to use and profit by. 
That lovely flower, the auricula, is now in full 
bloom and beauty. It is an interesting plant to our 
minds, because it is so generally admired and culti¬ 
vated by that interesting class of cottage gardeners— 
the inhabitants of manufacturing towns—whose long 
dull days of labour, far from sweet scents and cheer¬ 
ful sights, are cheered by their window flowers; and 
the beauty and perfection of their different kinds, I 
am told, is very great. Our heavenly Father blesses 
honest, lawful labour of every kind; and to sweeten 
and lighten that which is peculiarly dreary, yet so 
very necessary to meet the wants of man, he bestows 
a taste which, more than any other, tends to refresh 
and soften, and civilize, the mind of the artisan, by 
bringing into his dwelling the beautiful objects of 
nature, and showing him, even in his close, confined 
apartment, some of the wonders of the soil. 
The auricula was long known by the name of the 
mountain cowslip. It braves the high and snowy 
parts of Switzerland, Germany, and Italy, and yet 
tdooms wildly in the warm soil of Persia. How 
astonishing it is that the burning sun of the east, 
and the freezing gales of the west, should be alike 
favourable to this little downy flower! Masses of 
its rich and many-coloured blossoms look beautful, 
even as a common garden plant; and, if a little 
attended to, are really very fine in size, and tolerably 
powdered with their peculiar meal. I love to see 
them in large patches, so that I may gather a bunch 
with comfort to enjoy their very agreeable scent, and 
they make the garden very gay. 
A very lovely creeping annual, extremely suitable for 
the trellis or porch, is the canary creeper. It is a veiy 
light, elegant plant; its feathery blossoms so strongly 
resemble in colour the bird from which it takes its 
name, that we almost fancy we see them perched 
among the leaves. The seeds may be sown now; 
and, if in a sunny, sheltered spot, it will soon climb 
and beautify the bower. I very seldom see it, which 
surprises me, for it is an elegant plant, both in 
growth and blossom, and forms a pleasing variety 
among the summer foliage. If scarlet runners were 
planted near it, the mixture of colours would be very 
rich; and, although a common plant, the effect of 
the scarlet runner is very good, even when placed 
alone. A bowery walk, formed of tall thin rods 
fixed opposite each other, and bent into arches, when 
covered with scarlet runners, has a very pretty effect 
in a cottage garden; and a few seeds of the canaiy 
creeper, placed here and there, would add much to 
its beauty. The convolvulus major, too, should not 
be overlooked. How rich and gay might the simple 
garden thus be made! or, even without these arches, 
the appearance of the little homestead would be 
improved if these light climbers were wreathed round 
the standard fruit-trees, and even allowed to cling to 
those against the wall—for their branches and ten¬ 
drils are so tender that they could not in any way 
injure or shade the fruit. What a lovely scene is 
an English hamlet, with its bowery hedges, neat 
wickets, and glowing gardens—its straw covered 
roofs and glittering orchards, all clustering round 
the quiet solemn tower, that tells so truly the grand 
secret of England’s peace Is there, on the far-famed 
continent, among the fine scenery our countrymen 
run so eagerly to see, anything so beautiful as this ? 
Let the cottage gardener rejoice in his hard-earned 
wages. The time is now, indeed, one of unexampled 
pressure and distress; the rich and the poor are 
tried and troubled, for the burden on agriculture is 
heavy to bear; still, let the labourer “look up to the 
hills from whence cometh our help.” Let him remem¬ 
ber the bondage of Egypt, and who it was that could 
alone deliver the Israelites from their calamities; 
and let the British heart rejoice in the blessings of 
freedom and peace, when all looks dark and threaten¬ 
ing, believing that “ in quietness and in confidence 
shall be our strength,” for the Word of God has 
declared it. The lilies that bloom at our feet, the 
ravens that soar above our heads, the very sparrows 
that take away our cherries and peas, teach us im¬ 
portant scriptural truths, and bid us wait on the 
Lord to be clothed and fed. 
Whatever helps to endear our village homes, to 
encourage diligence, and to increase lawful profit, is 
doing a service to our queen and country, as well as 
fulfilling a part of our duty to man; and the love of 
gardening is as useful, as harmless, and as home- 
endearing a taste as the English labourer can pursue. 
Let him actively employ every prudent means, but 
always remember from whom alone the increase 
comes. 
TO CORRESPONDENTS. 
Moving Chrysanthemums (H. B. Wells'). —You have a hedge 
of chrysanthemums, which has stood undisturbed for three years, 
and you now wish to improve their health and appearance, and to 
remove them to another place. You propose placing them in large 
pots, in an arched building you possess, having light and air if re¬ 
quired.—There is no necessity of potting and placing them in such a 
building at all; take them up carefully', reducing the plants into 
moderate compass as to size, and renewing the soil, making it rich 
with rotten manure—the chrysanthemum being a gross feeder. Plant 
them again immediately and give plenty of water. They will soon 
recover the shifting, and long before the flowering season will be 
strong and healthy, and will flower abundantly. 
Planting a Flower-Garden (R. M. R .).—To lay out or form 
your plot of ground into an ornamental and agreeable pleasure- 
garden, we would advise a shrubbery at the further end from the 
entrance ; beds of flowers on the grass; and a winding walk at a 
short distance from the walls. These we would cover with creepers, 
such as roses, honeysuckles, jasmines, pyrus japonica, Wistaria 
sinensis, &c. You might form some rising ground here and there, so 
as to have an undulating surface. Your idea of a bed of rhododen¬ 
drons in one corner and of heaths in the other is good. A mound of 
rock-work in the centre between them, but kept in a recess, as it were, 
would be interesting and in good taste. If you will send your address 
to Mr. Appleby, he will write you by post on the subject more fully. 
See the plan by Mr. A., at page 307, vol. i.: you might lay out your 
garden in something like that style. 
Evergreens for a Brighton Balcony (W. X.). —The ever¬ 
green shrubs suitable for such an exposed locality are very limited, 
though your balcony be of “a good size.” We can name none but 
the spruce fir, juniper, cypress, alaternus, box, and phillyrea. 
Unfruitful Pear-tree (T. A. Lockwood). —Your tree, 40 years 
old, blooms profusely every year, but makes little new wood, and 
only once during the time has had even an average crop; just when 
the fruit is formed it nearly all falls off. You have “topt it,” you 
have cleaned the bark, and you have given it liquid manure, “but 
all is of no use.”—We think there can be little doubt that your pear- 
tree has descended into a sterile or ungenial subsoil. Were it ours 
we would bore beneath it next November, and cut away every deep 
root, without disturbing the surface roots. As a preliminary step, 
however, let the loose surface soil be scraped off directly, and top- 
dress nine inches deep with old manure and rotten turfy material, 
thus coaxing a series of new fibres to the surface preparatory to the 
loss of the tap roots next autumn. In addition we would apply both 
knife and bill-hook next autumn, thinning out all interior branches. 
Plumbago Larpentje (A Somersetshire Curate).— You have kept 
your plant in a south window, open on warm days, without a fire in 
the room, and you complain that its ltaves have become “ reddish 
bronze,” and that the growth has been almost imperceptible.—Vou 
ask our advice, but we cannot give it confidently. It is a plant of 
