by 
THE 
FLORIST, FRUITIST, AND GARDEN 
- MISCELLANY. 

POMPONE CHRYSANTHEMUMS. 
(PLATE 159.) 
Ir the year 1857 was the best known for forty years, for the 
culture of the Chrysanthemum, it is some little satisfaction to 
be told, by no less an authority than Mr. Broome, that 1859 
is the worst; some satisfaction to those who, like myself, were 
looking forward to an extra good one; who had been favoured 
with some of the newest and best, and was eagerly expecting to 
top my friends, and who, instead of a brilliant display, was 
compelled to witness only discoloured, soddened blooms ; 
to find Queen of England no better than a draggle-tail, Prince 
Albert especially seedy, and other distinguished personages no 
better than they should be. It was some satisfaction, I say 
(I am afraid of avery savage kind), to see all around me in 
the same plight; to find the Temple Gardens by no means as 
they have been, and to read Mr. Broome’s description of the 
season, in the December Fiorist. How could it be otherwise? 
Seven degrees of frost, heavy drenching rains, diversified now 
and then with snow and sleet, with gales of wind from the 
S.W., blowing right on the plants, and no shelter. It would 
have puzzled Sir Joseph Paxton, or even the great D. B. 
himself, to have avoided it; but it made me come to this 
resolution—that I will never again attempt to grow my few 
without some kind of protection—for I do grow only a few; 
my “‘ square inch” of ground will not permit me to do more, 
and even these can only be done by great manceuvring, and 
by keeping the plants small; my object is, consequently, to 
have only really good kinds, whether they be new or old. 
Having, then, on the 10th of November, a few hours to spare 
in London, I had a nice little argument with myself what I 
should do. It was the second day of the Crystal Palace show. 
VOL. XIYV., NO. CXLY. j B 
