February 15, 1890. 
THE GARDENING WORLD. 
375 
Hall, one of the oldest members of the society, 
and some years its treasurer, once showed me so 
forcibly the great advantages of this over such socie¬ 
ties as the Odd Fellows, Foresters, and others, that I 
took down his words at the time, and would be glad if 
they could reach the ears of every gardener in the 
kingdom. “I have paid,” he said, “7 cl. a week into 
one of those clubs since I was eighteen years of age, 
and I am now fifty. I have fortunately had nothing 
out in that time, and if I go on paying all my life 
there will be £12 at my death; and then,” he con¬ 
tinued, “1 have paid Id a week less into our 
Gardeners’ Society for seventeen years, and have 
nearly £40 to my credit, and if I continue paying as 
long as I paid into the other I shall have £100.” 
This, mark you, is £100 in the “ United ” against £12 
(at death) in the general, and a penny a week more 
for insuring the £12 than the £100, the benefits during 
the sickness being practically the same in both cases. 
Mr. Baker’s words should be pondered over by every 
gardener between eighteen and forty-five years of age, 
whose ears they may reach, and he will surely take 
advantage of his position and opportunity in joining 
this combined benefit society and savings bank in 
preference to the general societies, which, horvever 
valuable they may be to a mixed community of 
workers, cannot offer anything like the advantages 
that the “United” does to those for whom it is 
established. 
Before a member of ordinary societies can receive 
payment during sickness he must relinquish work 
entirely. This is not so in the “ United.” He can do 
some work, and thus keep his situation, and at the 
same time receive a proportion of sick pay on a doctor’s 
certificate. This is a provision ; but as if to help what 
may be called a half pay man off the fund, there is a 
slight deduction from his payment, which goes to the 
benevolent fund. It is the duty of all gardeners to 
take advantage of their positions and the privileges 
offered them by this society, and those of them who 
have joined the mixed general societies have little to 
lose and much to gain by having themselves enrolled as 
members of the “United.” Many have done so, and 
more on reflection must follow their example. 
The last of the four essentials that have occurred to 
me as such is the careful, economical, and admirable 
management of the society. There can be no waste 
of wealth, no fat salaries, no feasting out of the funds ; 
the rules are too stringent for that. Every man who 
gets a penny out of the society for services rendered 
to it must earn twopence at the very least. The 
secretary’s work in keeping three sets of books, making 
out an annual balance sheet for every member, and 
writing between 400 and 500 letters is done for £20 ; 
the trustees’expenses during the year were 19s. 6d., and 
treasurer’s, 10s. If the work were not a labour of love 
born of a desire to help their fellow men, the officials 
could not work so zealously as they do, always have 
done, and I venture to say always will do. 
A vote was then taken for the election of four 
members of the committee, and Mr. N. Cole, Mr. Berry, 
Mr. Dickens, and Mr. G. Kell were duly elected. Mr. 
W. Collins was again re-elected secretary, and £20 
voted as his salary for the past year. The subject of 
Mr. Sherwood’s generous offer to give £25 towards the 
formation of a convalescent fund was next discussed, 
and it was ultimately resolved that the offer should be 
accepted, and that the committee at an early date 
should formulate a scheme for carrying Mr. Sherwood’s 
object into effect. Votes of thanks to the trustees, the 
treasurer, and the chairman brought the proceedings to 
a close. 
-- 
ANEMONE APENNINA BLANDA. 
In gardens this beautiful variety is nearly always 
spoken of as a distinct species, but it differs only in 
having larger, deeper blue flowers, for the tuberous 
rootstock or rhizome, habit and foliage are precisely 
the same. The sepals vary from nine to fourteen, and 
are deep blue, measuring about 2 ins. across. The 
plant is perfectly amenable to culture in gardens, and 
seems most at home on a rockery on account of its 
dwarfness and creeping habit. It is, however, not at 
all particular as to soil, but may be grown in the open 
ground without any protection or other accessory 
whatever. The leaves are somewhat triangular, and 
twice or three times divided on the ternate plan, and 
in fact it may be compared to our native A. nemorosa, 
except in the number and breadth of the sepals and the 
amount of division of the foliage. 
If planted on a rockery it should be allowed good 
Boil of sufficient depth to ensure a continuous supply of 
moisture until the foliage dies down naturally ; and 
the pocket or place where planted should be of such 
dimensions as to allow the rhizomes to spread and form 
a large patch, for it can only be seen to advantage 
when it forms a large patch covered with bloom. It 
commences to flower in January during mild winters, 
and will continue for the next two months provided 
the conditions as to weather and otherwise are favour¬ 
able. 
-- 
LEAVES. 
When the amber buds of the Chestnut are unfurling 
their beautiful green leaves, the woods are aglow with 
life and colour, the hedgerow has its tinge of vivid 
green, and spring is rushing in its host of young leaves 
upon the trees, we cannot but feel too grateful for the 
beautiful and varied tints abounding everywhere, 
and generously affording the shade which is so accept¬ 
able when a scorching sun parches up the verdant 
pasture and dries the silvery brook. And then, later 
on, when the summer has spent itself, how pleasant it 
is to gaze upon the autumnal garbs ! The. Hawthorn, 
with its leaves of deep crimson, varying from brown to 
yellow ; Limes, a glorious yellow from top to bottom ; 
Elms, tinted with yellow, one or two branches at a 
time ; Beeches, a deep orange ; Oak leaves, a russet- 
brown ; and boughs of Maple touched with gold. It is 
really surprising when we come to think of the different 
ways in which leaves have been used from the time 
that Adam and Eve made themselves aprons of Fig 
leaves up to the present time. Where would the 
smoker be without the leaves of the Tobacco plant ? 
What thousands, aye, millions of leaves are annually 
imported to provide every household, from the highest 
to the lowest, with the daily cup of tea ! Look, too, 
at the multitude of uses that the different leaves fulfil 
medicinally ! We find the leaves of the Wood Sorrel 
yielding a plentiful supply of that peculiar acid salt, 
sold under the name of salt of lemons, and much used 
in removing ink spots from linen. The Agrimony 
produces leaves of an astringent and aromatic character, 
and have been found useful in the preparation of 
drinks for fevers. 
Bay leaves are known and used by every cook for the 
flavouring of custards, &c., on account of the flavouring 
matter contained in them. Oil is also extracted from 
these leaves, and converted into a liniment known in 
commerce as laurel oil. A decoction is made from the 
leaves of the coltsfoot, and as it is considered a power¬ 
ful expectorant, it is therefore celebrated as a remedy 
for coughs. The leaves of the great Mettle are still 
used by country people, although, perhaps, not to such 
an extent as formerly, for their Mettle tea. 
To the gardener leaves are invaluable ; stacked in a 
heap and allowed to rot, they produce the finest mould 
for potting purposes. Oak leaves are particularly 
sought after by the poorer classes, as they are con¬ 
sidered to germinate more heat, and are therefore 
utilised for a hot-bed in their simple frames in lieu of 
manure. 
Infinite as are the forms of the countless leaves, as 
varied are they in their form and structure. I have 
seen it estimated that a good-sized Elm will produce 
a crop of 7,000,000 of leaves, exposing a surface of 
200,000 square feet, or about five acres of foliage. 
Pick up a leaf and examine it, and you will find a 
most interesting study before you, whether it be one 
freshly fallen from a tree, or one that has been allowed 
to rot in a wayside ditch until only the exquisite fan¬ 
like tracing remains, denoting the veins or sap vessels 
that once conveyed the necessary nourishment. Endo¬ 
genous and exogenous leaves differ much in their 
veining ; in the former we find the veins do not touch, 
and that beautiful interlacing we find in the latter does 
not often exist. The Palms, Lilies, and Grasses are all 
endogenous, the veins rising from the base to the apex 
of the leaf, and curving as they advance. What a 
marked difference to the beautifully netted framework 
of veins in the exogenous leaf ! In some cases, through 
the thickness of the cellular tissue, or the opacity of 
the epidermis, the network is not easily distinguishable, 
but the arrangement can be determined by simply 
tearing the leaf. 
Leaves are termed simple or entire when the blade 
consists of a single piece without any marginal indenta¬ 
tion. Compound leaves are composed of several blades 
divided to the midrib or petiole, and are divided into 
classes. Compound and simple leaves are easily 
distinguishable, the former being articulated to the 
stalk can be separated, but the simple leaves are 
confluent throughout, and will be torn. 
Leaves may be acicular, that is, very slender, but stiff 
and pointed like needles ; linear, when at least four 
times as long as thick, rounded or oval ; truncate, when 
the end is cut off square ; oblate, broader than long; 
ovoid, when egg-shaped ; turbinate, when shaped like 
a top ; lanceolate, when about three or more times as 
long as broad, broadest below the middle, and tapering 
towards the summit; palmate, when several lobes di¬ 
verge from the same point; serrated, when the teeth are 
regular and pointed, as compared to the teeth of a saw ; 
pinnate, when there are several succeeding each other 
on each side of the mid-rib, as compared to the branches 
of a feather. 
Leaves are termed sessile, when the blade rests upon 
the stem ; and amplexicaul or stalk embracers, when 
the base of the blade clasps the stem horizontally. 
Leaves are called deciduous when they shed themselves, 
and evergreen when they remain green through the 
winter. The majority of our English trees are de¬ 
ciduous, the evergreens being in the minority. 
The lamina or blade is the principal part of a leaf, 
sometimes with a petiole or footstalk, and sometimes it 
has a leaf-like appendage called a stipule, as may be 
observed’in the Rose. A leaf may be said to consist of 
parenchyma or cellular tissue, consisting usually of thin 
walled cells, more or less round in form, or with their 
length ?not much exceeding their breadth, and not 
tapering at the ends. The fibrous framework or skeleton 
which extends throughout, is its support, and gives the 
leaf strength and firmness. Very minute chlorophyll 
corpuscles, containing nitrogen, and coloured green 
under the action of the sunlight, are to be found mostly 
in these cells, immediately below the epidermis or skin 
of the leaf ; this skin usually consists of a layer of 
flattened cells, destitute of chlorophyll. On the upper 
surface of the leaf the cells are crowded together, but on 
the lower sile they are interrupted by a greater or less 
number of pores or stomata. These stomata are chiefly 
placed on the lower side, in order that they may be 
shaded from the direct rays of the sun, which are 
unfavourable to their operations. A square inch of 
surface in some leaves is said to have from 1,000 to 
170,000 of these pores. These apertures communicate 
with the air, offering a ready access to the interior 
portions of the leaf, thereby allowing a passage out 
for the different gases and liquids, regulated by check 
cells, which surround the entry of the aperture ; they 
have the power of opening and closing, according to 
circumstances. The upper side of a leaf is usually of a 
deeper green, with denser epidermis than the under, 
which is more or less covered with hairs, and in 
horizontal leaves contain moro stomata than the 
upper side. Leaves which are vertical, have their 
stomata equally distributed on both sides; but in 
aquatic plants the stomata exist only upon the upper 
surface. 
Leaves are essentially the most active organs of 
vegetation : in them are conducted digestion or assimila¬ 
tion ; they have the power of absorbing carbonic acid 
from the atmosphere and throwing off pure oxygen, 
and exhale carbonic acid at night. Another operation 
is the transformation of sap containing food materials 
into organised substances, which enter into the com¬ 
position of the plant. Oxygen appears to be exhaled 
under the influence of solar heat, chiefly from the 
under side of the leaf, and regulated in a measure by 
the check cells. The absorption of carbonic acid in¬ 
creases with the temperature, so that all that has to be 
done to make a plant absorb freely is to increase the 
temperature. Succulent plants are said to absorb least, 
and ordinary deciduous leaves most. The breathing 
process is, in many ways, identical with that of animals, 
the process in both continually going on day and 
night. 
It is said that a Sunflower, 3 ft. or 4 ft. high, with 
5,000 or 6,000 square ins. of foliage, will exhale 20 ozs. 
or 30 ozs. of water in a day. The process of digestion 
appears to be almost universal in plants ; but some 
of the most striking exceptional examples are Venus’ 
Fly-trap, the Droseras and Mepenthes, which, from the 
peculiar way of obtaining their food, have been called 
carnivorous plants. Should a fly or any substance 
containing nitrogen come in contact with the leaf of a 
Drosera (which, be it observed, is extended in a most 
innocent and tempting manner), immediately the fly 
settles the leaf closes, and at the same time exudes a 
viscid fluid from the tiny sensitive hairs, which has 
the power of dissolving the insect or substance, in the 
same manner that the gastric juice dissolves the food in 
the stomach. The Mepenthes also catch part of their 
food, and are constructed with a cup and lid, within 
which the fluid is secreted, so that when a fly enters 
the cup its life may be numbered with the lost.— 
Duncan Robinson. 
