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JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER . 
November  3,  1898 
after  busy  years  spent  in  bustling  London.  The  old  trees  stood  here 
and  there,  as  if  they  had  sprung  up  accidentally,  where  the  birds 
happened  to  drop  the  seods.  Yet  they  had  been  planted,  for  the  first 
tree  examined  was  a  towering  Blenheim  Pippin — a  real  timber  tree, 
and  no  doubt  ranking  as  one  of 'the  oldest  Blenheims  that  still  bear 
useful  fruit.  “  Now,  what  would  you  advise  about  this  tree?”  was 
asked,  with  a  suspicion  of  trepidation,  as  if  the  response  was  feared — 
“Cut  it  down.”  The  reply  was,  “  Cleanse  the  stem  and  branches  as 
far  as  can  be  done  ;  cut  clean  out  the  worthless  interior  growths,  the 
leaves  of  which  cannot  reach  the  light,  an  1  thus  divert  the  sap  into 
the  branchlets  that  hold  their  leaves  to  the  sun — the  only  parts  that 
can  bear  fruit ;  drive  down  crowbar  holes  in  the  lawn  here  and  there, 
the  more  the  better,  from  the  trunk  to  beyond  the  spread  of  the 
branches,  and  flood  them  with  a  solution  of  guano  again  and  again — 
a  handful  to  a  4  gallon  can  of  water  ;  fill  the  holes  with  fresh  soil 
containing  wood  ashes  and  a  free  dredging  of  superphosphate,  pressing 
it  down  firmly,  and  the  tree  will  be  better  fed  than  it  is  now,  and,  the 
nutrimcm.  c  mcentrated  on  the  blossom-bearing  branches,  better  fruit 
will  follow.” 
A  smile  of  approbation  followed,  and  the  next  tree  was  scanned. 
“Treat  it  in  the  same  way,”  and  the  next  “Just  the  same.”  The 
owner  breathed  freely,  and  his  spirits  rose,  till  he  was  constrained 
to  ask,  in  a  jubilant  strain,  “Then  you  would  not  cut  the  old  trees 
down?  We  very  much  feared  a  death  sentence.”  “Cut  them 
down  !  Why  to  do  so  would  be  to  destroy  fhe  whole  character  of 
the  place,  and  obliterate  its  venerable  charm.  The  house  is  a  picture 
among  the  trees,  and  the  garden  in  spring  and  summer  a  delight. 
Destroy  them,  and  all  would  be  bleak  and  bare,  and  the  house  no 
longer  the  restful  bower  it  is  to-day.”  Then  was  the  owner  hapoy 
as  he  remarked,  “  It  was  the  trees  as  much  as  the  house  that  we 
bought  the  little  property  for,  as  a  quiet  leafy  home,  as  much  unlike 
the  modern  suburban  dwelling  as  possible,  in  which  to  spend  the 
eventide  of  life.” 
When  the  verdict  was  made  known  to  the  “  better  half,”  that  the 
old  trees  were  to  be  spared,  helped,  and  nourished,  her  delight  was 
great,  for  she  lives  in  her  shaded  garden  in  summer,  and  tends  her 
flowers  when  health  permits.  “Do  you  know,”  she  said,  “  I  dreaded 
your  coming,  as  I  didn’t  know  what  you  would  do  or  order  to  be  done 
to  the  dear  old  trees;  and  I  have  had  such  a  bad  night — actually 
dreamed  of  a  man  in  the  tree  tops  cutting  and  slashing  off  the 
branches  and  making  me  shudder.  But  I  see  you  are  not  fhe  man. 
I  thought  him  such  an  object,  for  he  had  a  tall  hat  and  long  black 
coat  on,  as  he  struck  all  around  with  his  great  chopper,  and  quite 
scared  me.” 
“  Have  you  any  old  gardening  books  in  the  bouse  ?  ”  was  then 
asked  of  the  owner.  Fhe  reply  wa«,  “  Oh,  yes,  I  never  pass  one,  but  buy 
all  I  can.  We  think  some  of  them  so  interesting  that  we  devour 
them,  and  the  old  gardeners,  of  the  past  seem  so  quaint,  like  our  old 
trees.”  Fhe  soquel  was  revealed,  the  lady  had  been  poring  over  one 
of  these  ancient  books  and  taken  a  mental  photograph  of  one  of  the 
consequential  old  worthies  who  ruled  over  gardens  in  the  long  ago,  and 
actually  pictured  him  as  worse  than  a  scarecrow. 
Not  one  of  the  old  trees  was  condemned — no  doubt  to  the  disgust 
of  the  soldier  man  who  scorns  books  and  papers  and  all  “  they  things, 
cos  if  yer  wants  a  bit  o’  good  gardnin  ’  yer  must  go  ttfe  man  as  do 
it.”  Such  men  abound  near  towns,  and  the  best  of  them  are  useful, 
but  the  proper  description  of  the  majority  is  not  gardener,  but  spoilt 
labourer.  Perhaps  it  is  well^for  the  present  soldierly  example  that  he 
does  “not  need  to  read  anything” — even  regarding  him  as  one  of  the 
best  of  his  class — or  he  might  on  reading  these  lines  be  driven  to 
become  a  deserter. 
In  the  consideration  of  trees  regard  should  always  be  had  to  the 
purpose  they  serve,  and  the  pleasure  they  give  in  more  ways  than  one 
to  their  owners.  T t  is  easy  to  undo  the  work  of  generations  in  a  week, 
and  deprive  a  residence  of  a  primary  charm.  Even  in  the  absence  of 
aesthetic  considerations  it  js  unwise  to  indulge  in  anything  like  a 
complete  clearance  of  old  fruit  trees  and  plant  young  ones  on  the  same 
site,  because,  obviously,  there  cannot  then  be  any  substantial  supply 
of  fruit  fora  few  years,  and  this  would  be  far  worse  than  the  loss  of 
what  some  at  least  of  the  old  trees  would  have  produced  with  cultural 
assistance. 
The  prudent  course  is  to  make  the  best  of  the  old  till  young 
trees,  which  ought  to  be  planted  in  an  open  position,  arfive  at  a 
free  bearing  state;  and  they  will  flourish  far  better  and  continue 
productive  much  longer  than  if  planted  on  the  site  of  an  old 
orchard.  For  planting  in  openings  between  old  Apple  trees,  Plums 
are  likely  to  succeed  better  than  Apples,  but  if  these  must  be 
planted  it  is  advisable  to  choose,  not  choice  and  delicate  varieties, 
but  hardy,  vigorous  growers,  because  these  are  the  more  capable  of 
forcing  their  way  amidst  obstacles  to  which  the  weaker  might,  and 
often  do,  succumb. 
It  has  been  said  in  the  above-mentioned  examination  that  all 
the  old  trees  were  spared,  and  it  may  now  be  added  that  only 
some  young  trees  were  condemned.  These  had  been  in  their 
positions,  perhaps,  half  a  dozen  years,  more  or  less.  They  may  have 
been  healthy  when  planted,  with  long  young  branches;  but  these 
had  not  been  shortened,  and  the  trees  assumed  a  stunted  habit  from 
which  they  never  recovered,  or  could  under  any  treatment  be  made 
healthy,  for  stems  and  branches  were  simply  ulcerated  with  canker. 
The  proper  place  for  such  miserable  objects  is  the  fire,  for  by  no 
known  means  can  they  be  made  either  useful  or  ornamental.  But 
there  are  other  young  trees — in  other  gardens  and  plantations — of 
quite  a  different  order,  so  exuberant  through  either  the  annual  close 
shortening  of  the  long  Willow-like  branches,  or  the  nature  of  the 
soil,  that .  they  must  remain  practically  barren  for  some  time,  if 
means  are  not  resorted  to  for  expediting  fruitfulness.  Such  means 
are  simple,  and  may,  perhaps,  be  referred  to  on  a  future  occasion. — - 
Inspector. 
TO-DAY. 
Sun  and  rain  have  each  struggled  for  supremacy.  The  rain  has 
fallen  like  molten  silver,  the  sun  has  lighted  up  the  crimson  and  gold 
that  Nature  is  scattering  so  lavishly  around.  The  leaves  are  loth  to 
go  ;  the  mild  air  and  soft  rain  have  given  them  renewed  life — a  life  so 
beautiful  and  bright  that  they  cling  to  it.  Gold  around  us  here, 
there,  everywhere,  gold  of  all  shades,  from  the  pajest  cream  to  the 
richest  tawny — so  plentifully  spread  that  all  may  take  their  fill,  and, 
unlike  the  earthly  dross,  this  fairy  gold  enriches  the  mind  rather  than 
the  body.  There  is  no  canker  in  it,  no  pitiful  meanness,  no  sordid¬ 
ness.  The  woods,  the  hedgerows,  the  fields  are  alike  robed  in  these 
regal  garments,  with  crimson  touches  here  and  there  to  give  a  warmth 
to  the  whole.  Berries  of  all  sorts  abound  ;  festoons  of  Bryony  in 
every  hedgerow,  set  as  thickly  with  coral  bails  as  it  is  possible  to  be. 
Whether  the  r  eiebbourhood  traversed  is  especially  suitable  for  its 
growth  we  fknow  not,  but  this  afternoon  we  passed  chain  upon  chain 
— enough  to  decorate  every  church  in  the  diocese.  Then  the  Privet 
with  its  jet  black  clusters,  and  the  Snowberry,  each  so  lovely  of  its 
kind,  and  so  elegant  as  decorations,  especially  when  mixed  with  Rose 
heps,  which  are  just  in  their  glory.  As  for  the  Hawthorns,  they  are 
borne  down  beneath  their  gorgeous  load,  and  their  leaves  are  only 
just  yellowing. 
There  is  the  grey  silver  of  the  Willow,  which  so  far  shows  no 
change  ;  the  soft  browns  of  the  Oak,  the  richer  shades  of  the  Bracken, 
and  even  the  yellow  leaf  of  the  uninteresting  Turnip  has  a  charm  of 
its  own,  while  the  Mangold  is  rich  in  shiny  green.  Pretty  branches 
and  bright  colours  abound  on  every  side,  and  the  autumn  posy  is  gay 
indeed.  A  handful  of  Madame  Desgranges,  with  a  stray  crimson 
rosebud,  and  a  changing  spray  of  Felicite  Perp  tue  is  before  our  eye  as 
we  write.  Even  the  homely  Currant  leaf  is  a  thing  of  beauty,  and 
the  Pear  branch  is  hanging  out  scarlet  banners.  It  is  not  the  day  of 
exotics.  Each  cottage  garden  is  finer  by  far  than  the  grandest  green¬ 
house,  and  the  village,  nestling  in  the  background  ot  trees,  is  the  best 
picture  oi  all.  The  smoke  goes  up  blue,  there  is  a  smell  of  wood  fires, 
and  an  occasional  whiff  of  something  savoury  caoking  for  the  good 
man’s  supper.  It  is  too  fine  to  shut  up  for  the  night,  while  daylight 
holds  out  at  all,  and  the  pleasant  gleam  of  flickering  fires  passes  out 
across  the  darkening  gardens. 
Have  you  ever  looked  carefully  at  the  fallen  Horse  Chestnut,  and 
then  up  at  the  yellow  leaves,  and  have  you  noted  how  the  dark  brown 
of  the  one  accentuates  the  gold  of  the  other  ?  The  Yew  berry  never 
gets  that  attention  it  should,  and  yet  how  lovely  is  its  crimson  waxi¬ 
ness.  It  is  so  small  that  were  it  not  decided  in  tone  it  would  be  lost 
in  the  depths  of  the  black  green  by  which  it  is  surrounded. 
