THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, December 14, 1858. 
1C,2 
of them last season and this autumn, than he had ever 
done before in one year. Progne, the one I mentioned 
this time last year, as coming the nearest to a crimson 
scarlet, sold better than any one of the 800 hinds which 
Mr. Salter grows ; for he sold himself right out of it, and 
had to buy it back again, to have another turn with it 
next year. Prince Albert is destined to run the same 
race, many hundreds of it being ordered already. 
To be able to write correctly on florists’ flowers, it is 
essential to see and study the new seedlings, year by year ; 
and it is more so with Chrysanthemums and Pompones 
than any other class. See how Dr. Lindley lias been 
hampered with them. He constantly pretends to know no¬ 
thing about florists’ flowers when he is asked about them, 
and yet writes as if he understood them properly. Any 
blackleg can impose on him—and, through him, on the 
Horticultural Society—with Chrysanthemums. As a proof 
of this, I found out, in Mr. Salter’s collection, the names of 
two old things, which were entered as new kinds in the prize 
collections at St. James’s Hall,—I mean Stoke Newington 
Beauty, which is the dear old Duchesse de Montebello, 
and Lord Raglan, which is the same as Insigne of twenty 
years back : this is the kind of which “ I could not mind 
the name on him.” Such plants, getting into the reports 
of the Horticultural Society as new kincls, will be bought 
as such. But I am all but certain that I discovered the 
only seedling which was entered in the Hall as such—the 
yellow, or golden, Cedo Nulli, of which six beautiful 
little plants were in St. James’s Hall. The frost had 
struck them so much, out of doors, at the Versailles 
Nursery, that I shall not be quite positive about finding 
the new Cedo under its original name. But I will stake 
my cash aud credit, and every farthing I possess in this 
world on the issue, that the plant called Yellow Cedo 
Nulli, and which had a prize, as a seedling, from the 
Horticultural Society, was, and is, no more a new seedling, 
than I am an old seedling from a Scotch thistle ; and I 
do hereby challenge the East and West Enders to prove 
the contrary. If I lose all my money, I shall go to the 
workhouse, sooner than attempt to raise the wind by dis¬ 
honesty, or by imposing upon a poor old and infirm 
woman, like the Horticultural Society, who has not a 
firm leg to stand on. But a pinch of Scotch snuff, like 
this, can do the poor soul no harm,—I am often revived, 
in my old age, by a good pinch of the kind. After all, 
however, nothing is so good for old people, at Christmas, 
as beautiful flowers,—such as those in my “ keeping- 
room,” and the names of which—old, new, and middling 
— I give, as noted in gonig over Mr. Salter’s winter 
garden, which was arranged this season on the flower- j 
garden system, and looked remarkably gay and refresh- j 
ing. The most conspicuous, and the freshest in the 
house, and also the largest, was Madame Guillaume: she I 
is a Madame, and no mistake, and the nearest to liken 
her to is Christine. T!Emir is as good as it was a month 
back. Yirgine, a fine, new, pure white, Arigena, a 
better-coloured amaranth than earlier in the season. 
Prince of Wales, a fiery red ; also a better colour than 
earlier in the season. Auguste Mie, equally good. Holla, 
much more silvery than earlier. George Sand, a very 
showy anemone. Morceau, rose-tipped white. Annie 
Salter, Madame Camerson, and Christine, all just as good 
as a month back. Louis Bonamie, a splendid, new, rosy- 
lilac anemone. Beaute du Nord, deep purple now. 
Anexo, Pilate, Alfred Salter, improve as the season gets 
later. King of Anemones, a very late kind. Due de 
Conde, lilac, with white centre,—fine. Madame Clos, 
rosy carmine. Mount Vesuvius, in the way of Mount Etna, 
but three times its size,—a noble subject for the hair¬ 
dressers. Peine Bacchanal, reddish claret colour. Sul- 
phurea superha, another glorious turn for the'dressers. 
Several of these, in crinoline, would exceed the size of 
Themis. Globe, a pure white,—another fine thing. Madame 
Tjeo, a still larger pure white,—equally fine. Brilliant, 
the best yellow in the house, and quite new. Golconda, 
golden yellow,—fine for dressing. Progne, the nearest to, 
and best crimson, and better when bleached a little by 
time. Julie la Graneire, or some such spelling, for mv 
ribs were so nearly bursting, that I blotted the name, which 
came so near to granny, and granny so dear to me, and 
the flower being so large, and so like my own dear grand¬ 
mother’s nightcaps, I could stand it no longer. But 
to make sure of it, the best way would be to write to 
Mr. Salter, next spring, for a plant of it,—he will recollect 
it as long as he lives : the colour and style of it are in 
the way of Bob, and the flower about three times the size 
of that of Bob. Glory is another large, new, pale lilac. 
Prince Albert, the largest and best of all the dark kinds ; 
and the Golden Queen of England were preserved along 
with most of those which were exhibited at the Crystal 
Palace, in September, by an accident which may be 
turned to good account. The cut flowers were put into 
a close packing-case, which case was put away in a dark 
place; and when it was opened, two months after that, 
most of the flowers were as fresh as ever, and that on the 
4th of December! 
I saw some of the very flowers which I described from 
the Crystal Palace Show; and this reminds me, that a gen¬ 
tleman told me there, that he was in the habit of having 
cut Pompones for his rooms and glasses, from Christmas 
to the end of January, by cutting the shoot when the 
first flower-bud was ready to open, at different times, 
from the middle of October to the end of November. 
These cut shoots are then stripped of their leaves, and 
stuck in wet sand, and put down in a dark, dry cellar. 
When they are taken to the drawing-room, they open in 
two or three days, and look as well as if they bloomed 
on the plants. Prince Albert is an English seedling, 
which Mr. Salter bought from the lucky raiser. The 
Golden Queen of England is a lucky sport of his own ; 
and, as a matter of historical interest, I must name that 
somebody had told Mr. Salter, that somebody else had a 
golden yellow seedling, which would beat the globe, and 
all on it. But, being more up to the mark than Dr. 
Lindley, ho will not always believe what they say. He 
said, if anything on this globe could beat his Golden 
Queen of England, he should like to see it, and he did 
see it, and so did I: one cut flower which he had on ex¬ 
hibition I knew in a moment, and it must be twenty- 
eight if not thirty years since I last saw a flower of the 
same kind. Mr. Salter knew it, of course. It is a 
Chinese seedling, which was introduced by the Horti¬ 
cultural Society, time out of mind, and by them called 
the Golden Lotus. Well, the Golden Lotus, like the 
golden Cedo Nulli, could be passed off as a new seedling 
the other day before the Horticultural Society, as sure 
as my name is D. Beaton. 
P.S.—Mr. Salter bought the last plant of tire Golden 
Lotus, and he will sell it next spring to any of us, but 
not as a new seedling. 
THE PRINCIPLES OF WINTER PRUNING 
FRUITS. 
No doubt the pruning season has, with some, already 
commenced. It is necessary with inexperienced persons 
to go somewhat into detail, as to special cases. Yet, 
as a pioneer in such matters, I think I may possibly 
gratify some of the readers of The Cottage Gardener, 
by showing as a prelude, that there are some general 
principles of pruning common to almost all our fruits. 
This will, at least, form a basis on which to ground 
future details of a special character. Those who have 
watched the course of TnE Cottage Gardener from 
its commencement, are, doubtless, aware, that its grand 
design was to be eminently practical; at the same time 
studiously anxious to avoid that kind of vulgarity which 
affects to despise all science. Of the latter, there has 
