371 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, Sertehelr IS, IS'jO. 
any other substanocs that would give out foul smells. Sucli as 
may be growing in a bed or border should be protected from 
slushing rains and frost, by covering each plant with a small 
hillock of dry ashes, to bo removed when the growing season 
commences. If a bod has been formed as I recommended above, 
the plants in it when at rest will be all the better if sheltered 
from heavy rains, frost, and snow, by covering the bed with 
hoops and oiled canvass. Let it be remembered that these rare 
plants are well worthy of every care. T. Appleby. 
(Zb be continued.) 
BLOOMING THE KAFIR BROOM. 
Seeds of both the Granadilla and the Kafir Broom were sent 
me from the Cape of Good Hope, and I have succeeded in 
growing the Granadilla very well; the Kafir Broom not so well, 
but I cannot get either of them to flower. 
I enclose a leaf of a Solanum, to ask you to tell me the dis¬ 
tinguishing name, and whether it is one of the poisonous ones. 
—M. R. 
[If you ripen the young growth of the Kafir Broom by free 
exposure to light and air, and keep the soil rather dry, it will 
bloom. 
In a genus numbering, according to the latest enumeration, 
more than 900 species (albeit many of these are false species), it 
is quite impossible to identify a plant by a single leaf. Yours 
may be Solanum verbascifolium , var. viridi-scabrum , and not 
unlikely is so, and most probably poisonous,] 
A REVIEW. 
(Continued from page 361.) 
There is a Scotch proverb purporting “A ganging foot, to be 
aye gettin.” So a few lines more about what I have seen in 
my “ gangings,” will be getting further space in these pages. 
What I did not see was the Spring Flower Show at the Crystal 
Palace, by consequence of the “ Derby ” people having run off 
with all the lodgings. I should have seen the grand Rose Show 
there ; but when we arrived in London we found it postponed, 
for which I was sorry ; but my face became round as possible 
when I heard the Orpheonists, and concluded the day in adieus 
long to be remembered. I shook hands with two hundred of the 
Frenchmen at the least, and shouted “ Bon voyage,” and “ Vive 
la France.” How they fraternised with the Volunteers 1 How 
many of them turned to scrutinise that rifle in possession of one 
of the Queen’s Westminsters! One in particular I noticed, 
thoughtfully scanning it over and naively expressing it was a 
“ useful eenstrument,” as he turned away with a shrug of the 
shoulders, as only a Frenchman can. I grasped his hand and 
sang out “ Vive la Liberte,” and all was joyous again. 
Well, I have not joined the Volunteers, but should the possi¬ 
bility require it, I am as certain that I should do so as I am 
that I should not go to a register office to get married ; and this 
led me to Wimbledon Common to see the Queen fire the first shot. 
Opinions are divided as to my sanity about the sum of money 
I gave the sod-cutter for a few square feet of it, to raise me up 
to catch a glimpse of the act. Hurrah! but there could not be 
two opinions amongst the thousands that surrounded me. The 
place was a marsh ; but I had, luckily, on a pair of thick Welling¬ 
ton boots ; so, Knickerbocker fashion, I scoured the Common with 
the best of them; and once, as Her Majesty’s carriage stopped 
between the “ Butts,” I was fortunate enough to gain her eye as 
she bowed, which circumstance was worth wading through any 
amount of mud to be favoured with. Afterwards I took tea 
with a friend on Putney Heath, and inspected a very pretty 
garden ; then wended my way to the bridge, and there, with 
many more on the top of an omnibus, awaited the driver’s long, 
long pleasure to take us to London. 
I went a roundabout way to Kew, for I wanted to see as many 
nursery gardens as I could by the way. From London to 
Putney, in the nurseries right and left, the deciduous and ever¬ 
green trees and shrubs never looked better. In fact, this might 
be said of all of them in all parts of London, excepting the Plane 
trees in the Parks, the early leaves on which, as a friend ex¬ 
pressed himself in regard to the early foliage on my Grape Vines, 
appeared “blown to tinder.” Walked through Putney; turned 
to the right by the railroad, and within half a mile, up a Sweet 
Briar walk—delicious—in full bloom, through a market garden 
where the crops cf Cherries, Pears, and Apple -- showed fair soon 
to weigh the trees down; along Putney Park road and lane, 
and a.ross to the Bishopthorpe station ; from thence by rail to 
Kcw Bridge: everywhere market gardens showing an abundant 
feature, though the Strawberry-beds looked patchy. Now the 
rain came down in earnest, foreboding a minimum of pleasure 
for the gardens ; so back in an omnibus, noticing Lee’s, of Ham¬ 
mersmith, which looked conspicuously gay in Roses, &c., to the 
Regent Circus ; thence in another “ ’bus” for St. John’s Wood, 
to Henderson’s, to inspect their Calceolarias under cover—a fine 
sight truly. I sec they intend to get them as round as the Great 
Globe itself before they are considered to be perfect. Walked 
through most of the “ houses,” saw almost everything, which is 
saying a great deal, including their new and beautiful Clianthus 
Dampieri. The walk next to the Wellington Road was being 
planted with the Spergula pilifera, so we shall know, ere long, 
how it answers for that purpose. Called on the old lady of 
Threadneedle Street, and found her in robust health. She treated 
me with the wherewithal to procure a fish dinner at Billingsgate 
and so home. 
Thanks to the “ writers ” who never seem to sleep, and who 
are continually urging us on, my whole days are so occupied that 
I have not much spare time to scrutinise my neighbours, though, 
from what I can learn, their Potatoes are sadly diseased ; and 
this, coupled with the lo3S of their last winter’s stuff, is more 
than what their fruit crops will do to make them feel contented. 
Strange to say, they will not adopt my Potato system of culture. 
I have for years persuaded them to do so and annually placed 
my crop before their eyes to appeal to their senses. But no : and 
although The Cottage Gardener containing my last article 
about the plan was Btolen from the reading-room table, I cannot 
find as yet that the least impression is made. My enthusiasm 
once even led me to deliver a lecture in our Town Hall on 
the cultivation of the Potato, the “audience” receipts to go for 
the benefit of the Mechanics’ Institute, which was then almost a 
forlorn hope. The receipts, however, barely sufficed to pay for 
the lighting. I was told afterwards, the expressed opinion was, 
that they “ knew how to eat the Potato, and that was sufficient for 
them ! ” Well, I grant you we can do that also ; and if any one 
would make it worth while, I would guarantee the Potato crop 
in this garden to become annually destroyed by the disease—other¬ 
wise, so far as we are concerned, it would be a decided loss ; for 
letting alone the palatable part of the affair, I always consider 
the profit accrueing to be sufficient of itself to pay for all the 
occasional labour of the garden. At Stonesfield, an adjoining 
parish, where I was lately, the Potato crop looked well and 
promising. E. Robinson, Esq., a famous amateur gardener, 
founi me out a few years ago through the medium of The 
Cottage Gardener, and periodical visits to see what is going 
on naturally followed. On his last visit he invited me over to 
his father’s, who was about giving his annual fete at Stonesfield 
Rectory to his parishioners; so the rector and myself arrived 
there accordingly, and spent a very happy afternoon. The flower 
garden there is arranged up to the latest fashion of the day, and, 
considering the season, the beds were well covered, and blooming 
as well as any that had come under my view, which all the people of 
the parish, and many more besides, helped still further to enliven. 
The grounds, kitchen garden, and houses, were all thrown open, 
and the astonishment of the poorer sort continually venting itself 
in the word “beautiful.” Who shall calculate its good influence ? 
And hark ! how well the village bells discourse their “ triple-bob- 
major.” I could, for one, lovingly appreciate that sound, as I 
was born within earshot of two of the finest peals of bells in old 
England,—those of Bury St. Edmund’s. For this occasion, and 
in order to form a peal of six bells for the Stonesfield tower, Mr. 
E. Robinson presented one new bell, had another recast, and re¬ 
newed the belfry at his own expense, and was then lustily pulling 
a rope, himself being one of the chief ringers. He came and 
welcomed me on the lawn ; and when, after talking over sundry 
gard ;ning matters, and giving our united opinions upon the ex¬ 
cellent, practical, and sound moral papers now publishing in The 
Cottage Gardener on the “Science of Gardening,” I ex¬ 
pressed a hope that he would send the Editors some drawings 
descriptive of new horticultural structures he has lately set up, 
which can be packed up and carried off any day without the fear 
of a landlord before one’s eyes. I was as delighted with them 
as I should be to see them represented in these pages with Mr. 
Robinson’s/ecif. So, in anticipation, I will merely notice a range 
of sixty feet, divided into three compartments. The first com¬ 
partment devoted to bringing things on ; the second compartment 
