| March, 1913 
HOUSE AND GARDEN 
189 
At first Charlemagne showed himself imbued with the usual 
ideas as to the laying-out of the land, marking out the plots for 
rows of cabbages and patches of potatoes after the ordinary 
fashion. Very quickly I placed a veto on any such proposals. No 
part of our valuable space was to spare for such things as could 
be bought for a few pennies from any green-grocer or market 
gardener. Cabbages, I was careful to explain, took too much out 
of the soil and gave back too little in actual value; cauliflowers, it 
is true, were of a similar nature, but as the cauliflower was 
adapted to so many uses in the kitchen, it could not be dispensed 
with. Potatoes, except for a few rows of earlies, which, when 
eaten directly after lifting, possess a flavor comparable to none, 
we could not spare land for, except where they might prepare the 
soil for a better crop later on. Carrots and turnips grow best on 
soil which has been previously occupied by potatoes or celery 
rather than on freshly manured ground. This matter of the wise 
rotation of crops was one about which I read much, and after 
making many trials we have at last arrived at a systematic plan, 
to which we now adhere. 
Our early turnips we 
sow in frames, but the sec¬ 
ond crop is sown between 
rows of peas and thinned 
out freely. Lettuces are 
pricked out between rows 
of celery, and the finest 
grow on the ridges after 
the celery has been 
earthed for the autumn. 
Spinach we set between 
peas and beans, sowing a 
fresh row every fort¬ 
night, and thus keep our¬ 
selves supplied all the 
summer. 
Our first dishes of 
spring greens are com¬ 
pounded from cuttings of 
sorrel, spinach, turnip- 
tops, young nettles, and 
mercury—for we grow 
“Good King Henry” as 
respectfully as any other 
herb. With this variety, 
Charlotte is able to ring 
the changes without being 
at a loss for a puree at 
any time it is asked for. 
We have cucumbers ready for cutting with the beginning of 
May, and they last throughout the summer by keeping the glass 
open. Tomatoes (under glass) we cut early in June, and those 
grown out of doors begin to produce in July, and the two lots 
keep us supplied right up to Christmas. Some variety of lettuce 
or endive we find it possible to have all the year round, and the 
salad bowl is in almost daily use. Soup vegetables are also re¬ 
quired every day, and Charlotte makes a voracious demand for 
good roots and onions for her savory stews, wherein, as she says, 
it is the meat that flavors the vegetables, not they the meat. I 
fear me she would consider her skill but half appreciated if we 
failed to supply her with such things as salsify and celeriac, 
aubergines and chicory, as well as the more ordinary roots, or if 
there were not a few potirons hanging up in the storeroom with 
onions and shallots galore. From beets she makes most delicious 
little dishes as well as salads. And, of course, there has to be 
material supplied for the making of those various conserves which 
fill the larder shelves and adorn our table in winter days. 
It may seem ambitious to have attempted the growing of 
melons, yet the home-grown melon is one of the choicest of our 
dessert fruits, and its growing offers no insuperable obstacle; 
moreover, it was like offering a sop to Cerberus to suggest its 
cultivation to Charlemagne. Fie went up in his own estimation 
by several degrees! 
Together we discussed the requirements of the melon tribe; we 
decided that a frame covering a brick pit, with a six-inch hot- 
water pipe going round it, with a bed of leaf mold (chiefly oak 
and beech), would give the necessary heat. Our authority told 
us that these leaves were better than the richest manure. We 
had to buy a sackful from a nurseryman, sufficient not being 
otherwise obtainable. The seeds we sowed first in small pots 
in a mixture of leaf mold and loam, embedding each seed in 
a little silver sand, then set the pots in the bed with a bottom heat 
of between 70 and 80 degrees. When they grew big enough to 
shift into larger pots, a stronger compost was used, and finally 
they were planted out on ridges in the frame itself, and as the 
fruit began to form, the young plants were watered with liquid 
manure. When a suf¬ 
ficient number of flowers 
had opened we fertilized 
them by hand, using a 
camel’s-hair brush, and 
kept the lights open. As 
soon as the fruits came we 
picked off any that were 
ill-shaped, and gave the 
plants a little support 
from time to time. While 
they were making fast 
growth, plenty of air was 
admitted into the frame, 
and the foliage was 
syringed daily. If any 
sign of red spider ap¬ 
peared a little sulphur was 
put into the syringe. The 
syringing was discon¬ 
tinued after the fruits be¬ 
gan to ripen, and we gave 
less moisture with more 
heat, and when we could 
scent the aroma we knew 
the time had arrived for 
cutting. Blessed time! 
In a favorable season 
we have had a fair supply 
of peaches and apricots 
from the trees that grow on the south wall, but a cold or wet year 
is fatal to these. Grapes we have not yet attempted. But a 
veritable triumph it has been when we could set a dish of fully- 
grown, well-ripened strawberries before the Better Half for his 
delectation, late in May or early in June. These are not pot- 
grown, oh, dear no! We allow the plants to make their ordinary 
growth out of doors until the crowns are fully developed, then in 
April we lift them with a spade, with a good quantity of soil, 
and lay them on the bench on the south side of the cool-house. 
Flere they quickly come into flower, and as the windows are 
opened wide during the day the bees are able to do their work. 
After the fruit has set we raise the bench to bring it nearer the 
glass, and keep the roots well supplied with moisture. It swells 
rapidly, and soon ripens with this slight protection, being care¬ 
fully shielded from the cold at night. These strawberries are as 
fleshy and full of flavor as when grown out of doors in the 
ordinary course, and in this way we prolong our enjoyment of 
this delicious fruit by at least a month. 
(Continued on page 209) 
The kitchen-garden was a piece of land of nearly two acres, sheltered, open to 
the south and sloping 
