126 
THE FLORIST AND POMOLOGIST. 
[ June, 
A GRIEVOUS WASTE OF FORCE AND TIME. 
f N Horticulture, such, I fear; is the attempt to grow our more tender fruit on 
open walls: our best Pears in the open air. One or two sharp frosts in 
? April or May ruin the prospects of the fruit-harvest of the year ; and of late 
year^ we hardly ever escape these exceptional nights—they have become 
as regular as the revolving seasons. The trees may be perfect in form, in robust 
health, without spot as to cleanliness, and may display sheets of blossom, as the 
phrase runs ; but all to no purpose. A wave of chilling cold trembles through 
the atmosphere, scattering flakes of snow and showers of hail in its rear. The 
night closes in; the dark clouds roll away like curtains drawn aside from the 
clear face of the sky; the stars sparkle with unusual brilliancy ; dead stillness 
reigns o’er earth and heaven, and the stealthy frost descends and pierces myriads 
of open blossoms with its sharp arrows barbed with the coldness of death—and all 
is over. Oh, it is trying ! Yesterday the fruit garden smiled a veritable Eden 
of beauty and promise, and hope piled up its fruit-baskets till they ran over with 
plenty. To-day hope dies, and is buried beneath a forest of blackened blossoms, 
frost-bitten to the heart. And so the sorrowful tale is told year after year. 
We begin afresh to nurture and strengthen the trees, and to reap again and 
again the same bitter fruits of disappointment. This contest with the elements 
seems hopeless. The odds are all against the cultivator, and he can hardly win 
unless the caprice of the weather permits. 
Now, I submit, we have had more than enough of this reckless game of 
chance, which is almost like the old formula of “ Heads I win, tails you lose.” It is 
high time that we tried a wrestle with the atmosphere, instead of being its mere 
sport, like corks on the eddying current. Our cultural skill and force have been 
expended on fitting our fruit trees to endure all weathers. We cannot do it. 
Frost of from 7° to 10° of intensity will strip them clear of fruit, do what we 
may. We must therefore, as the seasons go, turn our attention to the ameliora¬ 
tion of the air, or the creation of an artificial atmosphere adapted to the character, 
and calculated to ensure the safety of our fruit crops. 
A good deal may be done by improved sites, and draining, and skilful 
husbandry. But when all this is done, we must still arrange to have less cold 
and more warmth than nature vouchsafes to us from March to May, if 
we would have regular and certain crops of fruit later in the year. In 
one word, we must Protect our Trees with Glass. Thus only can 
we be certain of a profitable return for all the time, cultural force, and capital 
expended. In what way this is best done is still an open question, but that it 
must be done ought from henceforth to be considered a closed one, unless, 
indeed, we are prepared to sacrifice an enormous amount of horticultural force 
for no returns whatever but those of vexation and disappointment. 
Orchard houses—permanent or movable—glass screens, glass coping, and 
cordon and conical tree-cases, will be common as gooseberries in the fruit gardens 
