300 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, August 14, 1860. 
when young shoots are not to be had, we use bits of twigs from 
Pea-stakes, or anything most comeatable—anything, in fact, fresh 
enough to crack half way or more through in the middle, and not 
break through altogether. With the exception of just breaking 
the lengths over the knife there is no time taken in making; as 
before, the hand can get from the knife to the ground—the 
bending and cracking in the middle are effected. I look back 
with a spice of regret to the good old times when wo could sit in 
a shed for a day making nice hooked pegs, polishing their points 
as nicely as if they had been bone or ivory bodkins for a sweet¬ 
heart ; but in most places now the man who must depend on such 
pegs for a large flower garden will find to his amazement that, 
whilst he loiters on the bank, the stream is rolling past him. 
This pegging alone may be sufficient for such things as low- 
growing Verbenas this season, for in a good many places they are 
not now much taller than they were in the beginning of June; 
but in general seasons we find that pegging is not sufficient to 
keep the plants regular in their outline for the season. Eor this 
purpose we use twigging the bed all over, sticking little pieces of 
old brooms, &c., thickly over the bed, and tying a few shoots to 
them at first. The twigs should be lower than the anticipated 
height of the plants, so as not to be seen when the beds are full 
grown. If seen before, the apparent utility speaks of its appro¬ 
priateness. The plants get so interlaced among these twigs, that 
wind and rain, though they injure the flowers, cannot break up 
the symmetry of the bed. Of all wood for this purpose, we 
prefer branches of Spruce that have lain long enough to lose the 
foliage. The little twigs act as so many holders. I am afraid to 
say how many years I have had some of these Spruce twigs—the 
resin preserves them. I also use Larch branches, or, in fact, 
wood of any kind; but pieces of Hazel, or what is generally used 
for Pea-sticks, is generally not worth saving for a second year. 
We dare scarcely leave a single bed without being secured by 
these twiggy branches, ranging from twenty inches, used for a 
dwarf Dahlia, to six or eight inches for the dwarfest Calceolarias 
and Geraniums. The trouble is great, of course, but it is better 
to have fewer beds than to have a great many that are not sym¬ 
metrical in outline. 
I do not pretend to be any authority in such matters; 
but, so far as I understand it, I believe that a grouped bed 
should be rather picturesque than particularly artistic —- in 
other words, that a bed, if of one thing, should, on the 
whole, look like one plant rather than a collection of single 
specimens of that plant. Some time last year I saw a large 
circle filled with Scarlet Geraniums, planted uniformly in rows, 
and some fifteen or eighteen inches apart across the bed. From 
whatever point you looked at the bed, these came in the 
straight files of scarlet grenadiers. When you came near the 
bed, you found almost every plant a specimen in itself and an 
open space all round. Each plant, in fact, was a mass of green 
with a red top to it. Now, in the first place, if such a bed 
had been planted in circular rings instead of liucs across, the 
file-like appearance would have been removed ; and, secondly, 
if with no thicker planting some of the larger, grosser central 
leaves had been removed, and the shoots, instead of being in 
bundles, had been kept out by means of twigs or large pegs, 
the whole bed would have been covered with flowering-shoots 
so as to look like a single specimen. For a month or so, 
some of the extra-sensitive, people, whose nerves are shaken by 
seeing even a stone, or a larger clod than usual, on their dressed, 
smooth-raked and too often hard-crusted beds, would be horrified 
at seeing these rough-looking twigs ; but sensible people at once 
see something like beauty even in them, because their utility is so 
apparent. Independently of all such symmetrical effect, I And 
that in such an exposed place I could not manage to keep the 
plants from being blown about, and even blown out of the 
ground, unless by regularly planting several inches deeper, and 
then in most seasons I should expect a superabundance of foliage 
and a limited supply of bloom. So much for twigging, in 
addition to pegging, as a means of training. R. Fish. 
THE SCIENCE OE GARDENING. 
(Continued from page 287.) 
Foe the production of double flowers, a full exposure to light 
is as essential as an abundant supply of nourishment; for a 
deficiency of light decreases the decomposing power of the leaves. 
In proportion to the deficiency of light does the plant under 
glass become, in the gardener’s phraseology, drawn—that is, 
its surface of leaves becomes unnaturally extended in the vain 
effort to have a sufficient elaboration of the sap effected by means 
of a large surface exposed to a diminished light, for which a less 
surface would have been sufficient if the light were more intense. 
The plant with this enlarged surface of leaves becomes unfruit¬ 
ful, and produces a deficiency of flowers, the sap being expended 
in the production of leaves. 
Mr. Williams made some experiments intended to illustrate 
this point, and he found that varieties of the Yine, when grown 
under white or crown glass, under green glass, and in the open 
air, had the diameters of their leaves, in inches, altered as in the 
following table :— 
Name. 
White. 
Green. 
Open Air 
White Muscat. 
8 
12 
7 
Malmsey Muscadine. 
6i 
12 
G 
Syrian . 
8 
Hi 
White Sweetwater. 
6 
9 
6 
Black Hamburgh . 
8 
134 
White Frontignac... 
G 
11 
6 
White Muscadine . 
G 
11 
6 
From the foregoing facts, we conclude that a due supply of 
moisture, but rather less than the plant most delights in when 
the production of seed is the desired object, a superabundant 
supply of decomposing organic matter to its roots, and an ex¬ 
posure to the greatest possible degree of sunlight, are the means 
to be employed most successfully to promote that excessive 
development of the petals which characterises double flowers. 
By these means a greater amount of sap is supplied to the 
flower than the natural extent of petal can elaborate; and, 
following the laws of Nature already specified, those parts 
required for the extra elaboration are developed at the expense 
of those not demanded for the purpose. In double flowers, too, 
as was observed by the late Sir J. E. Smith, the corolla is much 
more durable than in single ones of the same species, as Ane¬ 
mones and Poppies; because, as he conceived, in such double 
flowers the natural functions not being performed, the vital prin¬ 
ciple of their corolla is not so soon exhausted. Advantage may 
bo taken of this to prolong the duration of flowers by cutting 
away the pistils, or stamens, whichever are least conspicuous, 
with a sharp pair of pointed scissors. 
We will conclude our observations on flowers, by observing 
that their fragrance is rarely considered as an object of the 
gardener’s care. This is a mistake. To improve the perfume of 
a flower, to add fragrance by cross-breeding to a kind usually 
destitute of such a source of gratification, and to render the 
atmosphere of a conservatory, greenhouse, or stove, more grate¬ 
ful by a due combination of odorous flowers, are objects quite 
worthy of a gardener’s attention, and they are objects he can 
readily attain. 
That cultivation and cross-breeding can intensify the odour of 
plants, and even impart it to seedlings, one of the parents of 
which was scentless, all gardening experience testifies. Yet there 
is a wide field still to be won. Why, for instance, should not a 
Rose be obtained having petals gifted with the substance and 
brilliant colour of General Jacqueminot, and the high fragrance 
of the old Moss Rose ? 
In tenanting our greenhouses and conservatories, also, there 
is a notable opportunity for the gardener to prove that there is 
high art in the combination of odours as well as of colours. 
In preparing delicate perfumes it is seldom that a single oil, or 
the parts of one plant only, are employed for the purpose. The 
art of the perfumer is shown by the skill with which he combines 
together the odoriferous principles of various flowers, or mingles 
together many volatile essences, so as to produce a more grateful 
scent than any single plant can be made to yield. In this way 
the huille de mille fteurs (oil of a thousand flowers) professes to 
be made ; and the secret recipe for the popular Raw de Cologne, 
called the perfection of perfumery, depends for its excellency on 
the same principle .—(Report of the Juries of the Great Rxhihi- 
tion o/’1851.) 
Odours represent very much the notes of a musical instrument. 
Some of them blend easily and naturally with each other, pro¬ 
ducing a harmonious impression, as it were, on the sense of smell. 
Heliotrope, Vanilla, Orange blossom, and the Almond blend 
together in this way, and produce different degrees of a nearly 
