37 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, October 18, 1859. 
more to random routine and accident, than anything like design 
in the superintendent. It is generally agreed that plants inhale 
oxygen at night and exhale carbonic acid gas, and that the 
process is inverted in bright light and sunshine; the carbonic 
acid being then decomposed, and oxygen liberated whilst the 
carbon is assimilated. It was on this principle that some con¬ 
tended that if plants were exposed to light, although shut up 
close under glass, they would purify and oxygenate their own 
atmosphere. Facts, however, stranger than theory, demonstrate 
the importance of change of air for growing plants. It is equally, 
if not more, important in the case of cuttings. Put the cuttings 
almost hermetically sealed under a bell-glass, and carbonic acid 
gas will be evolved at night. Keep thickly shaded during the 
day, and that gas will be as likely to be evolved as decomposed 
until twenty-four hours. Being several times repeated, the 
cuttings will be in a carbonic acid atmosphere, and little or no 
oxygen present to stimulate the vital energies to activity. Shut 
up a boy in an elegant glass receiver, with plenty of eatables, and 
admit no fresh air, and how long would he live ? Cuttings are 
too often treated in this manner. Now the great remedy is to 
give them air at night, less or more in proportion to circum¬ 
stances, but still enough to let the foul air out and the fresh 
oxygenated air in. It cannot be given to any extent on sunny 
days for the reasons already given. On mornings and evenings 
a little may be given at times ; but at night there is nothing to 
prevent it being given, unless when the weather is very windy; 
but even then a small opening will change the atmosphere, and 
not injure the cuttings. As a general rule, things in pits and 
hotbeds, under hand-lights and bell-glasses, should have these 
tilted a little in the evening, and remain so until the sun begins 
to strike on the glass in the morning. In the case of hardier 
things in pit3 and frames give an inch or so of air at the top of 
the lights in the evening, and shut up close before the sun strikes 
on them in the morning. In mild quiet nights double or treble 
the space for air, and raise the sashes instead of slipping them 
down, and place wedges in front of the lights also, that there 
may be a free circulation all over. In dull, cloudy days let the 
air remain on. If there is no brisk drying wind, and no sun¬ 
shine, there will be little danger of flagging. Keep in mind that 
all shading and all keeping a close atmosphere, farther than is 
requisite to keep the leaves on the cutting from flagging, are 
injurious to the robust health of the cutting, and delay rather 
than expedite the rooting processes. R. Fish. 
TENANT NUESEEYMAN’S EIGHT TO BOX 
EDGING. 
A nurseryman who has rented a piece of land (which was 
formerly a stone pit) for the last twenty years, is now selling off 
his stock, and a dispute has arisen about the removing of the 
Box-edging which he planted to form the walks. lie will be 
obliged if you will inform him whether the Box-edging belongs 
to himself or the landlord.—A Subscriber. 
[If the nurseryman did sell, or would have sold, the Box¬ 
edging to a customer during his tenancy, we think the law would 
justify him in taking it away, as then it was part of his stock-in- 
trade. In the case of JEmpson v. Soclen, it was expressly said 
that a tenant, not a gardener by trade, cannot remove a Box¬ 
edging unless by special agreement with his landlord (4 Barn¬ 
well and Adolphus, 655). By inference, therefore, if lie were a 
gardener by trade, he might remove the Box-edging. We are 
quite sure rather than have any litigation or dispute, the land¬ 
lord had better pay, and the nurseryman-tenant had better 
accept, a small sum for the Box.] 
SIMPLICITY OF GOOD MUSHEOOM CULTTIBE. 
Or all the dainty vegetables with which a good gardener fur¬ 
nishes the kitchen, high up stands the Mushroom. Such is the 
constant demand for this dainty from November to May, that it 
generally causes no little anxiety beforehand with many gardeners 
for fear there should be any mistake in proceedings; for it is 
possible for the very best of cultivators to fail, although such is 
seldom the case. Where there is much winter cooking carried 
out, of course the head cook is a somewhat important personage; 
and if a failure in Mushrooms should by chance occur in early 
winter, these people are fearful to meet—better, as Solomon says, 
“ meet a bear robbed of its whelps.” And no marvel either, 
when we take into consideration the various forms it may be 
made to assume in cookery, even in its full character; to say 
nothing of the spice of flavouring it is capable of imparting when 
injudicious bands. Let but a gardener have constantly plenty 
of Mushrooms, Sea-kale, and forced Asparagus—all good — 
through the winter and spring, and he will pass muster, although, 
perhaps, no genius. Now much has been written about Mush¬ 
rooms. Still I believe that a paper or two annually will do good 
to some, although it simply w r arms up and freshens the first 
principles of culture. 
Instead, however, of following the beaten track of detail, I 
will endeavour to discuss a few main principles on which their 
culture depends. I think that we may just raise questions as 
follows : —Character of dung: should it be fermented? What 
about moisture ? Does it need admixture ? Should the bed be 
loose ? What about spawning, and also soiling ? These are the 
points I will attempt to ventilate. I do really think that there 
is one class of minds—and I am not sure they are in a great 
minority—that would sooner fall in with good ’ practice by such 
analysis than by a complication of mere dry rules, which are 
frequently conventional, and can never carry that powerful con¬ 
viction to the mind that real principles truthfully handled can 
do. However, all this depends on the previous cultivation the 
mind has received, and, by consequence its real weight and 
position. I will take the points consecutively. 
Character of Dung. —Nothing can exceed good horse-dung 
for Mushroom-beds, although they may be produced from other 
manures, and even from simple vegetable matters. The dung 
should be from horses well fed, and obtained, if possible, before 
a drop of rain has fallen upon it. The longest of the litter may 
be rejected ; and the material when shaken out should contain a 
good deal of droppings. 
Should it be Fermented ?—There has been, and still con¬ 
tinues, much misconception on this point. I will not go so far as to 
assert that fermentation is never requisite; but this I know, that 
if the dung is quite fresh, as it ought to be, and never receives 
rain, that a week or two of drying under some shed are all that 
is needed. Now the dung must not be wet when made into a 
bed, neither may it be dry—it shoidd bo slightly moist. I 
believe that the only moisture that requires to be evaporated is 
the urine. This in the main dissipated, the spawn will at once 
revel in the manure. It seems odd that no writer or practitioner 
hitherto has touched on this topic : the fact is, it is left in an 
indefinite shape, and has been staved aside by the one general 
idea of fermentation. I should much like to know what some of 
our first practical men, rich in experience, have to say on this 
matter. The fact is, the urine is either a foe to the Mushroom, or 
it is not. I presume the former, but dare not insist on it.. A few 
facts with which most of us have been familiar since our laddish 
days seem to favour the impression. I have seen Mushrooms 
springing freely from the floor of a deserted stable where the 
droppings had fallen, but not until the lapse of many weeks ; 
during which period, I apprehend, that, as the urine of the horses 
evaporated, the rest in proportion generated spawn, and finally 
produced Mushrooms. I have also repeatedly seen in the stable 
of a neglectful carter, who, instead of removing the droppings 
daily, economised them by sweeping them into a sly corner of the 
stable—I have seen excellent Mushrooms springing from such a 
heap; but let it be remembered it was always about July or 
August. Now we all know that there is something almost mys¬ 
terious about the production of Mushrooms, albeit we gardeners 
can make sure of a crop in general; and indeed there is as much 
room for inquiry and a free interchange of opinion in this matter 
as in any one thing in the world of gardening. The ordinary 
impression is and has been that the air during summer is charged 
with the spores (or shall we say seeds ?) of this singular vegetable, 
and that when it alights, on any body congenial to the production 
of spawn, it succeeds, all other conditions being equal. 
Moisture of Dung. —The remarks requisite on this head having 
been involved in the preceding, little remains to be said. Dry 
dung will not succeed, and very moist is unfavourable to the 
woi’king of the spawn ; so, then, it must be in a medium state. 
We all know that, to have a Mushroom summer out of coors, we 
must have much dry and warm weather in May and June—the 
period when the spawn is spreading, which, indeed, constitutes a 
period altogether distinct from the production of Mushrooms. 
But when the spawn has established itself, mainly in dryish con¬ 
ditions, then the country people long for a warm shower or t wo 
at the end of August to bring out the Mushrooms : the spawn¬ 
breeding period therefore requires rather dry conditions; the 
