350 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, Makch 6, 1860. 
and lie used to describe himself to his friends as merely “ vege¬ 
tating,” and “ doing nothing for science.” 
In 1833 he came again to Philadelphia, determined, as he said, 
to resign his professorship, as the College authorities would not 
grant him leave of absence, and he then made arrangements for 
his great journey to the Pacific Coast. He wrote to the Governor 
of the Hudson Bay Company for protection and hospitality in 
case he should visit any of their posts, but received a very 
unsatisfactory reply, which Nuttall said was not much more 
than ho expected, as the subordinates, in such cases, he had 
always found to sympathise with his objects more than the 
officials. 
The owners of the vessel that brought him home from the 
Pacific, Messrs. Sturgis and Bryant, of Boston, to their honour 
be it said, would not take a cent of passage-money from him, 
“ as,” said they, “you travel for the benefit of mankind.” 
In Danas’ “ Two Years Before the Mast,” an amusing anecdote 
is told of Nuttall on this voyage, who wanted the Captain to put 
him ashore at Cape Horn, during a violent storm, that he might 
study the plants of the Cape. On this expedition lie was accom¬ 
panied by Thomas Say, the celebrated entomologist, and twenty 
others interested in various departments of science, and it was 
perhaps the most valuable one for American interests ever under¬ 
taken. 
On his return, he at once commenced on his additions to 
Michaux’s “ Sylva,” bringing up the three volumes of that splen¬ 
didly illustrated work on American trees to six, and before the 
work was scarcely completed, in 1842, he was recalled to England 
by the death of his uncle, who bequeathed him his property, worth 
only about 5000 dollars ; and who, out of good feeling for his 
nephew, as he thought, fearing that in some of his dangerous 
journeys he would come to an untimely end, hampered the legacy 
with the condition that he should reside for nine months in each 
year in England. Poor Nuttall! his heart and soul were in the 
noble forests and boundless prairies of this country, and with 
the kind friends he had found here; and he could not but feel 
his uncle’s condition a cruel one. But he had no choice. Relying 
on his bequest years before, he had sacrificed all his means to 
science; and having nothing laid by for the future, he had to 
acquiesce. 
In 1852, he got the idea that by taking the last three months 
in one year and the first three in the next, he might still enjoy 
the society of his friends here again, and so he tempted the 
waters of the Atlantic once more, and when he again found him¬ 
self at his old haunts at the Academy, he could with difficulty 
bring his mind to tear himself away from them. Even during 
this short time he made some important discoveries in the struc¬ 
ture of the anthers of the Mistletoe, never before noticed. 
Since then, Mr. Nuttall has lived on this small estate at Rain- 
hill, in England; devoting, as is well known to horticulturists, 
his time to experimenting on flowers, and especially with the 
Rhododendron; an accident connected with his favourite 
pursuit, indeed in some measure hastening his death. Mr. 
Nuttall’s sister was married to a Mr. Booth, who soon afterwards 
was drowned in the Irish Channel. The only child from this 
union Mr. Nuttall had adopted and treated as his own; and 
the scientific spirit of his uncle has fallen on him. He has been, 
for some years past, exploring the mountains of the East Indies, 
and many new and valuable plants have been the result. The 
Rhododendrons from the Himalayas in particular, were Mr. 
Nuttall’s favourites. Late last fall, Mr. Nuttall’s gardener 
became insane and had to be suddenly removed, and just about 
that time a case of plants arrived from Mr; Booth. In his 
anxiety to open the case, he unfortunately overstrained himself, 
and from the time of his injury gradually sunk—he died, aged 75. 
Mr. Nuttall’s attachment to America was particularly strong. 
Though so near the continent of Europe, he never visited it; and 
beyond a single trip to Ireland, never left England after his last 
visit to the United States.— (American Gardener's Monthly.) 
SUBSTITUTE foe the YELLOW CALCEOLARIA. 
In reply to Mr. Robson’s inquiries, which Marigold has been 
used for the above purpose, I have not seen any but the French 
variety applied, as an orange or yellow bed. There is a very 
dwarf orange sort, grows about six or eight inches high, on light, 
dry soils, and if obtained true comes true from seed. It requires 
to be planted very thickly, and then makes an even mass of colour, 
from soon after planting until cut down by frost. 
I saw it at Hampton Court, last summer, and although very 
dwarf from the dry weather, it was full of flower, while the 
Calceolarias had not made a start. If my information is of 
service, I will give more particulars, as I grew it for several years 
in a former situation.—J. Taplin, Teddesley Park. 
[We shall be very much obliged by a detail of your time of 
sowing and mode of managing and planting this Marigold, as a 
substitute for the Calceolaria.— Eds. C. G.] 
THE APRICOT. 
It is a notorious fact that there is more anxiety amongst 
gardeners about this most useful, I had almost said wonderlul, 
fruit, than about any other. And, why ? because it possesses 
such peculiar characteristics, such valuable properties as to 
domestic economy. But, then, after all, it must be admitted that 
it is a somewhat ticklish subject in our northern climes; and, 
no marvel, when we consider the parts of the world most con¬ 
genial to its habits. If the hottest quarters of the eastern world 
cannot produce a real English Cauliflower in perfection, why 
should we'expect to produce first-rate Apricots which come from 
thence ? But in this case, skill, practical, yet formed on, or con¬ 
sonant with, true science, fills up that great blank which must 
otherwise in many cases present itself. 
One thing has somewhat surprised me, but, perhaps, I am 
short of a multiplicity of facts. We do not hear so much talk 
of Apricots from the warmer States of America as of Peaches. 
Of the latter, we have been well told that they feed their hogs 
occasionally on them; but who ever heard of hogs being fed on 
Apricots ?' But, after these introductory remarks, my purpose 
is to again examine this “vexed question,” and to endeavour to 
i add a little more light—albeit, but a farthing rushlight. 
Now, in order to give it fair play, let me admit that Apricots 
do gloriously in some places, and some localities, whilst in other 
places, yea districts, they are a gambling speculation. The 
stock lias been blamed; but in the cases above alluded to, they 
are all on the same stock, the successful and the unsuccessful. 
So, then, it is not first-rate philosophy to lay all on the stock. 
Soil it cannot be, for we find them succeeding where other 
circumstances suit, on dark soils, yellow, or red. And not only 
as a matter of colour, but in various textures: light soils, soils 
full of humus, and on adhesive loams. Therefore, it is plain the 
matter deserves and requires a more thorough investigation than 
it has hitherto received; and the best way to come to truth and 
facts is, to keep questions open until a thorough solution is 
offered. 
When we look about country places and find lean-looking trees 
bearing abundantly against cottage or farmhouse-fronts, we may 
well secretly draw a comparison between them and the grosser 
trees of the kitchen gardens, which certainly on the average do 
not produce so abundantly, or so regularly as the others. About 
this part of the country (Cheshire), if any one builds anew farm¬ 
house, or a new cottage, the first consideration is, where to plant 
the Apricot. I have been consulted scores of times since I came 
here, as to whether such or such a situation would do for an 
Apricot ? Of course, it is always south or nearly so, and in nine 
cases out of every ten there is a stone pavement over the roots. 
There is no top dressing, and seldom a drop of water; and as 
for trimming away spray, why there is none to cut away. Almost 
every twig they produce is wanted. 
But, look at the young Apricots of the kitchen garden, they, in 
general, require much waiting on. Disbudding, pinching-back, &c., 
are certain processes here. The fact is, the borders of kitchen 
gardens are in all cases in an artificial state, as compared with 
these primitive soils, which in general compose the soil of the 
Apricot. \ 
There is, no doubt, but heat is the great essential in their 
culture, and next to that, light. In nearly every case as to 
cottages, &c., there is a fire in the very room against the walls of 
which the Apricots are trained. And a fire in such little rooms 
as we find in such houses, must cause the w r alls to be tolerably 
warm at all times. But, then there is the root action, the action 
of the sun upon the stones as compared with soil. This is, I am 
assured, considerable, and of much importance. I question 
much if the soil beneath such pavements on sunny frontages, 
loses its ground warmth during winter, so much as exposed soil. 
Now, this pavement heat appears to me a most important affair, 
whether it be a reflection of light, or the greater radiation of heat, 
or both combined ; of the latter there is no doubt I think. Now, 
