214 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, January 4, 1851). 
required afterwards ; and here is the rock upon which so many 
foundered this season. Hardly before the first batch of bloom 
was up to the point, in set those most unusually hot days which 
threatened death and destruction to the Calceolaria. Now, be 
the soil, plants, or locality, ever so favourable, do you for a 
moment imagine these will carry this plant through such a season I 
without every now and then a thorough soaking of water? 
How often is it said, by men who ought to know better, that 
watering does no good, but much injury, the truthfulness of 
which I admit under certain conditions. Now, it is argued 
watering binds the soil, and causes burning, as it is called. I 
admit the fact,—watering drives the air out of the soil as it enters, 
and, with a hot sun, renders the soil tenfold more a conductor 
of heat than before ; but, suppose, after a good soaking, while 
the ground is yet mellow, you run over it in the way of tv good 
souffle of the surface. Will watering do harm then?—does not 
this newly broken up surface become again charged with air, 
which is a non-conductor of heat ? I believe that I owe my 
success, during these two last seasons, chiefly to this point,—a 
good soaking when needed, followed by a stir of the surface. 
This system applies to all bedding-out plants, and especially 
the Verbena, during last season. 
Some will cry out, it is impossible for us, in a large place, to 
follow such a system—one could do nothing else but water in ; 
such a season. I believe that where there is a will, as the saying 1 
runs, there is a way. Are not such failures as we have heard of i 
hut little short of a thorough waste of time ? Look at propagat- ! 
irg and all after-attention, and what for, but to raise plants to 
disgrace, and to disfigure the place? I maintain such is the' 
case, if they do not attain to a certain degree of perfection j 
in blooming. Is not this spoiling the ship for a pennyworth 
of tar? Extraordinary seasons require extra effort and per- ■ 
severance, instead of talking of bad seasons and disease. Let us ■ 
first quit ourselves like men in this matter ; and, as all reforms j 
must begin at home, let us be upon the look out for another ■ 
Hot season, and be prepared for it by the lessons taught by the 
last. 
I chiefly grow Calceolaria viscosissima and superba, and will 
cheerfully send Mr. Robson, or any friend, next September, 1,000 
or 5,000 cuttings of this excellent sort, if still at my post. Or, 
next March, I will send to anyone 100 plants for every twelve of 
aurea Jloribunda. —J. Simmons, Ham jet, Banning, near Maid¬ 
stone. 
COX’S OllANGE PIPPIN. 
In a notice of Cox's Orange Pippin, in the November Part of 
The Cottage Gardener, I find some remarks reflecting on the 
decision of the Judges, who, at the Horticultural Society’s Fruit 
Show, held in Willis’s Rooms, in 1857, awarded the first prize, 
for-quality, to Cox's Orange Pippin. The writer of the remarks, 
which I wish now to notice, candidly owns that he had no oppor¬ 
tunity of testing the merits of this particular Apple until the 
present season; and, while admitting the well-known fact, that 
the quality of Apples is affected by varying seasons, nevertheless 
maintains, that, at its best, Cox's Orange can never equal the 
Bibston Pippin. With all due deference, “ H.” will, perhaps, 
permit me to tell him, that Cox's Orange was indubitably better in 
every particular than any Apple exhibited in competition with it last 
year. The most promising specimens of the Bibston Pippin were 
cut and tasted, and, to the surprise of myself and my colleague, 
we found in Cox's. Orange Pippin an Apple superior to it. 
After the decision of the Judges had been made known, some 
surprise was expressed by persons present, and we were asked 
if we had forgotten the Bibston. We gave our inquirers the 
opportunity of questionmg our decision by allowing them to 
taste; and the opinion was unanimous, that the Bibston had at 
length found a superior. 
I find, on referring to the awards of the Judges at the second 
Fruit Show, hold last November, in St. James’s Hall, that the 
Judges have affirmed the excellence of Cox's Orange by placing it 
second, when placed in competition with many others: this I 
take to be sufficiently confirmatory of the excellence of Cox's 
Orange. It is nothing against it, that an Apple superior to it 
has been brought into notice. 
The season just passed was altogether exceptional, and its 
influence on fruit proportionate. We have not had so dry a season 
for eighty-one years, and a dry season suits the Bibston. Indeed, 
it has been better with me than I ever before had it. The 
Bibston was raised on magnesian limestone; Cox's Orange on a 
rich alluvial soil, and in rather a low, moist district. 1 cannot 
forbear saying, that “ II.” has committed himself to an opinion 
that would have been better reserved till the experience of other 
seasons had confirmed it. And in conveying censure on men, 
who conscientiously endeavoured to discharge the duty entrusted 
to them, “ II.” has again hurried to a conclusion that is neither 
courteous, kind, nor just. 
“ II.” need not be alarmed on account of the public suffering 
through the extensive cultivation of Cox's Orange; it is an 
Apple that I venture to prophecy will give more satisfaction than 
the Bibston now does, even though it has not received the 
sanction of so great a letter in the alphabet as “ H.”—I., one of 
the Judges at Willis’s Booms , 1857. 
THE INFLUENCE OF BOTANY ON 
CHARACTER, 
We commend the remarks which follow to the atten¬ 
tion of all our readers, be they old or young, rich or 
poor. Although they may not need the lesson which 
those remarks impart, there is a freshness and whole¬ 
someness in every sentence—an evidence of latent good 
in man—which must cheer on every one who is labouring 
to benefit and elevate his brethren :—Eds. 
I am not about to praise myself, but simply to tell a round, 
unvarnished I ale of what botany has done for me and others. I 
have nothing to boast of, for I doubt not but. I should have been 
in some convict establishment before now, if Flora had not stepped 
in to rescue me from amidst crime and ignorance. When eight years 
old, I was in the workhouse ; from nine to about thirteen, 1 lived 
among cadgers, thieves, and prostitutes, and learned not a few 
of their pranks. I was early placed in a cotton mill, but my leisure 
hours were spent in the above unclean company. The fair goddess 
appeared to me for the first time in the shape of an old Culpeper’s 
“ Herbal,” which had been lent to my brother. We were so 
taken up with the plates, that we resolved to go into the fields to 
see if we could not find some of the plants pictured in the above 
book. We succeeded in discovering some, which made us 
anxious to find more, until we were fairly in love with the 
pastime. 
I had learned to read in the workhouse school; so, after I 
became acquainted with “ Culpeper,” I spent the winter nights in 
rambling about shops seeking books with plants in. The next 
book I saw happened to be the right one : it was “ Conversations 
on Botany.” I inquired the price, and paid a shilling on it that 
I had saved, till my brother and myself got the requisite sum. 
Having procured the work, it found us little worshippers, and 
gave us little opportunity for mixing among, t our poor benighted 
neighbours. The first year we knew the Linnaian system of 
arranging plants, or rather the classification. In my sixteenth 
year, I entered one of the local botanical societies, which are 
pretty numerous in this part of tlie country. I was made Vice- 
President, which post. I held until I went to learn gardening. 
At the numerous botanical meetings in Lancashire, all sorts of 
men are generally in attendance,—the steady and otherwise, the 
ignorant and the informed ; and though the meetings are mostly 
held at public-houses, they are nevertheless agents of civilisation. 
While attending the above meetings, I became acquainted with 
two persons, one of whom could not read and was a collier, the 
other a sawyer, and both were drunken characters. The first 
time, they came to the meetings out of curiosity, and then became 
regular attendants. I was chosen by them as a teacher. After 
teaching my pupils for about, a year, I called upon one of them. 
He was upstairs dressing. His wife thanked me for keeping her 
husband from the alehouse, excepting on meeting nights. She 
said he never had been so kind to her since their marriage, as he 
had been since he began to botanise. The collier coupled ento¬ 
mology with his botany, and has made good collections of insects 
—in fact, lie may be said to be a walking catalogue. The two 
have had no time for drunkenness since they began riding their 
hobbies. 
The working men of Lancashire who pursue botany, or any of 
the other sciences, arc a quiet, unassuming class of persons. 
Great numbers of them can tell the name, class, and order of 
almost any plant in a day’s walk, although t-lieir occupations are 
not with plants. Being once in conversation upon the benefits 
