430 
November  7,  1895. 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER, 
hung,  for  being  the  antithesis  of  fussiness,  so  common  at  a  flower 
show,  it  was  a  riddle  how  he  always  came,  oft  conquered,  and 
invariably  went  all  but  unperceived.  After  some  drilling  as  a 
recruit  on  various  field  days,  intervals  of  leisure  were  afforded 
and  embraced  to  note  exhibitors  as  well  as  exhibits  prior  to  being 
belled  out  ;  and  so  the  opportunity  was  afforded  of  unearthing 
my  old  campaigner  in  the  act  of  marshalling  his  forces. 
As  far  from  the  madding  crowd  as  the  limits  of  the  building 
permitted  had  he  retired,  and  there  the  fixing  and  the  final  touching 
went  on.  As  fast  as  the  stands  were  completed  the  blooms  were 
hidden  from  prying  eyes,  in  this  case  by  sheets  of  tissue  paper 
secured  by  a  tacK  at  the  corners.  Enthusiasm,  in  remarking 
special  points  of  excellence  amongst  his  blooms,  was  immediately 
nipped  in  the  bud  by  a  curt  call  to  attention  of  such  weak  points 
as  delicacy  forbade  expression  of  in  voluntary  criticism.  Good 
wine  needed  no  bush,  and  his  strength  lay  in  a  knowledge  of  his 
weak  points. 
It  was  plain  to  see  he  knew  his  business,  and  not  less  obvious, 
though  unexpressed  verbally,  that  any  intrusion  on  the  privacy  he 
sought  was  not  welcome.  Eventually,  as  each  field  day  came  round 
I  found  the  veteran  at  his  post,  and  whether  that  was  or  was  not 
the  winning  post,  the  same  stoical  indifference  was  remarked.  I 
thought  he  was,  and  I  think  he  is,  the  coolest  of  the  old  cam¬ 
paigners  I  have  fought  with  ;  but  “  still  waters  run  deep.” 
As  we  came  from  distant  and  opposite  points  of  the  compass  no 
further  intimacy  arose  after  my  first  approach  and  rebuff  (as  I 
took  it)  than  a  brief  remark  on  the  weather,  and  on  this  topic  we 
were  unanimous,  mutually  agreeing  that  it  was  wet  or  fine 
according  to  what  prevailed.  He  came  upon  (his)  business,  did 
his  business,  and  went  about  his  business  ;  offered  no  criticism  nor 
courted  any  ;  and  however  elated  or  despondent  over  the  decision 
which  affected  him,  he  showed  as  little  evidence  of  it  as  an 
automatic  chess  player.  On  one  occasion,  which  was,  as  this  is, 
Chrysanthemumtide,  a  cursory  glance  revealed  the  fact  that  he  was 
simply  out  of  the  running,  owing  to  the  show  being  late  and  his  best 
blooms  being  early — over.  This  was  apparent  in  those  he  was 
staging,  but  not  less  noticeable  was  the  same  phlegmatic  bearing 
admitting  no  relaxation  of  the  usual  painstaking  and  care  in 
arrangement. 
In  turning  from  my  old  showman  to  his  antitype  it  is  considerably 
easier,  though  less  agreeable,  to  select  a  prominent  example.  He 
is,  indeed,  very  much  in  evidence  at  all  similar  institutions  of  our 
country  ;  at  least,  I  have  always  found  him,  and  that  without  the 
trouble  of  seeking,  as  in  the  illustration  depicted  above.  He  is  a 
man  of  little  faith  in  his  own  powers,  and  seeks  counsel  from  the 
many  who,  alas  !  are  too  ready  to  give  it,  consequently  his  blooms 
(this  is  the  “  Mum show)  receive  a  good  deal  of  handling 
from  admiring  friends,  and  judging  from  their  condition,  for 
some  days  prior  to  the  exhibition,  have  their  merits  been  similarly 
discussed. 
He  can’t  be  beat.  All  his  friends  say  so,  and  the  more 
positively  do  they  assure  him  of  this  the  more  does  his  mind 
oscillate  ’twixt  hope  and  fear.  To  make  doub’y  sure,  a  last  flying 
visit  is  made  to  competing  stands,  and  a  running  fire  of  criticism  is 
kept  up.  la  one  instance,  so  much  was  my  young  friend  occupied 
with  other  people’s  business,  that  in  the  hurry  to  complete  his 
own  a  stand  of  blooms  was  set  up  without  water  in  the  tubes. 
Unlike  the  old  campaigner,  he  is  conspicuously  seen  and  heard,  and 
is  a  very  thorn  in  the  secretarial  flesh  ere  the  judges  relieve  that 
functionary  from  the  sting  of  his  wrath,  for  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  most  of  the  officials  come  under  his  ban. 
“Favouritism”  has  been  shown.  This  verdict  is  arrived  at 
during  an  afternoon  spent  in  personal  point  judging  between  the 
stands.  “  Take  them  bloom  by  bloom,  mine  are  as  good  as  his,  and 
better.  Look  at  my  Mrs.  Alpheus  and  his  Hairy  Wonder.  What 
were  the  judges  thinking  of  ?  Tut !  Call  that  fair  judging?”  Finally 
consolation  is  sought  by  an  endeavour  to  enlist  the  sympathy  of 
those  whose  stands  bear  no  prize  cards,  and  some,  at  least,  of  those 
are  ready  to  accord  to  him  Crabbe’s  description  of  Mr.  Justice 
Bolt— 
“  This  ready  man  at  every  meeting  rose, 
Something  to  hint,  determine,  or  propose, 
And  grew  so  fond  of  teaching  that  he  taught 
Those  who  instruction  needed  not,  nor  sought.” 
It  is  not  his  first  field  day,  and  it  is  only  in  a  comparative  sense 
that  he  is  here  styled  a  recruit.  His  methods  and  his  manners 
seem  to  court  those  disasters  from  which  perennial  grievances  arise. 
Truly,  he  is  seldom  far  behind  ;  and  often  the  slip  ’twixt  the  cup 
and  his  stand  proceeds  from  a  disdain  of  those  trifling  matters 
which  shunt  the  prize  to  a  neighbour’s  exhibit.  On  various 
occasions  have  I  heard  him  declare  that  he  has  done  with  the 
Society  for  good  and  all  in  a  tone  which  forebodes  something  like 
calamity  to  that  body.  At  our  last  show  I  noted  him  ricocheting 
through  the  building  in  the  usual  conspicuous  manner.  I  trust 
that  he  may  yet  note  my  old  campaigner,  and  in  the  noting  acquire 
some  valuable  lessons  he  has  hitherto  missed  in  the  art  of  showing. 
— Observer. 
KILLING  CHRYSALIDS  IN  WINTER. 
All  is  fair  in  love  and  war,  so  ’tis  said,  but  yet  it  would  hardly 
be  thought  the  right  thing  for  soldiers  to  kill  their  foes  while  they 
were  sleeping,  though  it  might  be  a  painless  way  of  removing  them. 
We,  in  garden  operations,  have  to  contend  with  numerous  enemies 
which  we  are  glad  to  kill  whenever  we  get  a  chance,  and,  if  we 
can  catch  them  in  a  torpid  condition — well,  we  may  prefer  to 
destroy  them  then,  probably  without  inflicting  pain,  even  though 
we  do  not  quite  accept  the  Shakesperian  assumption  concerning  the 
sensibilities  of  insects. 
Winter,  we  know,  is  the  time  of  sleep  or  unconsciousness  with 
many,  also  a  time  when  it  is  important  for  us  to  prevent  the  injuries 
of  another  season,  by  removing  those  species  that  would  afterwards 
work  mischief,  whether  they  are  accessible  in  their  earliest  stage  of 
egg,  or  as  larvm  (some  of  which  are  torpid,  but  others  feed  during 
part  of  the  winter),  or  in  the  chrysalis  stage,  or  occasionally  we 
have  instances  of  sleeping  images  now  amongst  moths  and  flies. 
The  chrysalis  often  awaits  the  spring  hidden  beneath  the  earth, 
sometimes  it  is  on  the  surface,  only  slightly  protected,  and,  during 
the  work  of  the  later  months  of  the  year  we  come  upon  various 
chrysalids  by  accident,  while  others  may  be  discovered  without 
much  trouble. 
Though  we  cannot  say  a  chrysalis  has  no  feeling  (for  if  one  is 
annoyed  it  will  generally  wriggle  a  little),  still,  in  that  state  we 
shall  not  be  inflicting  much  pain  upon  these  insects  by  destroying 
them.  A  friend  of  ours,  indeed,  who  has  had  some  extensive 
acquaintance  with  the  chrysalids  of  moths,  thinks  they  wink 
their  eyes  sometimes,  which  would  certainly  imply  sensitive¬ 
ness  ;  but  this  is  only  a  fancy.  Not  long  before  the  period  of 
emergence,  however,  the  eyes  may  be  seen  to  shine  very  perceptibly 
through  the  envelope  or  case. 
About  this  season  it  is  customary  to  make  use  of  various  insect 
killers  to  dispose  of  surface  or  subterranean  grubs  and  caterpillars, 
and  I  have  been  asked  whether  these,  as  a  rule,  take  effect  upon 
any  chrysalids  that  may  be  in  the  soil.  Much  depends  on  the 
nature  of  the  liquid  or  substance  employed.  The  more  powerful 
applications  which  we  put  upon  ground  where  no  plants  are  grow¬ 
ing  do  frequently  kill  chrysalids  ;  but  they  might  escape  unhurt 
from  milder  applications,  which,  without  injuring  the  roots  or 
stocks  of  plants,  will  kill  many  larvae.  The  shell  of  a  chrysalis  is 
generally  hard,  and  its  surface  not  readily  absorbent  of  moisture  ; 
some  chrysalids  are  also  protected  by  an  outer  covering.  The 
caterpillar  before  changing  forms  a  cocoon  composed  of  a  sort  of 
silk,  with  which  earth  or  vegetable  fragments  are  mixed. 
Apart,  however,  from  the  effects  produced  by  the  application 
to  the  soil  of  poisonous  liquids,  abundance  of  moisture  is  of  itself 
injurious  to  the  chrysalids  of  moths,  also  to  those  of  some  beetles 
and  flies,  in  consequence  a  rainy  winter  destroys  more  of  them 
than  does  a  dry  and  frosty  one.  By  such  a  winter,  too.  subterranean 
insects  are  rendered  less  accessible  to  birds,  which  hunt  up  those 
near  the  surface  when  the  mild  weather  loosens  the  earth.  Digging 
and  turning  over  the  ground  brings  chrysalids  to  the  surface, 
putting  them  in  reach  of  birds,  and  subjecting  them  to  atmospheric 
influences  likely  to  be  prejudicial,  but  there  is  no  advantage  in 
digging  deeply  to  get  rid  of  them.  Few  of  them  are  found  far 
down  in  the  earth,  and,  should  we  be  digging  amongst  plants  or 
shrubs,  we  run  risk  of  injuring  the  fine  fibres  of  roots.  This  has 
been  tried,  sometimes  in  winter,  where  Gooseberries  have  been 
infested  with  sawfly  caterpillars  previously,  and  the  bushes  have 
