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JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
December  29,  1898. 
year/ however,  the  “  g  Aden  flower”  seems  to  have  been  almost  as 
plentiful  as  during  November.  The  men  who  have  a  good  supply  a 
month  hence  will  fare  better  than  those  who  finish  at  Christmas. 
Good  blooms  of  white  varieties,  such  as  Niveus  and  Princess  Afictoria, 
are,  however,  selling  now  at  good  prices.  There  is  no  scarcity  of  such 
popular  bulbous  flowering  plants  as  Tulips,  Narcissi,  and  Homan 
Hyacinths ;  the  latter  have  this  season  been  sold  at  abnormally  low 
figures.  Well  grown  Chrysanthemums  in  small  pots  are  not  very 
plentiful  and  sell  readily  at  remunerative  prices,  a  point  which  many 
growers  will  doubtless  note  and  act  upon.  That  special  Christmas 
plant,  Solanum  capsicastrum,  does  not  appear  to  be  generally  good  this 
year,  though  some  very  fine  specimens  have  found  their  way  to  Covent 
Garden  during  the  past  week.  Heaths  and  Ericas  are  plentiful  and 
splendidly  grown  ;  indeed,  it  seems  almost  impossible  to  conceive  how 
better  plants  could  be  grown  in  such  small  pots.  The  specialists 
who  grow  them  may  know  nothing  of  science,  but  practice  has 
evidently  taught  them  a  scientific  method  of  plant  manufacture. 
Good  Callas  have  not  so  far  been  very  abundant,  and  are  realising 
excellent  prices.  A  few  days  ago  I  saw  a  beautiful  lot  of  Lilium 
Harrisi  ;  the  method  adopted  to  produce  them  at  this  season  would  be 
interesting.  Can  any  Journal  reader  supply  it  ? 
It  is  not  in  flowers  alone  that  an  enormous  trade  is  done  at 
Christmas,  both  foreign  and  British  plants  are  to  be  seen  in  vast 
quantities,  but  good  Grapes  and  Apples  command  fair  prices.  A 
month  ago  Alicante  and  Colman  Grapes  were  almost  a  glut  in  the 
markets,  but  affairs  are  different  now. 
What  a  wonderful  trade  is  done  with  Holly,  Mistletoe,  and 
Spruce  trees !  Retailers  who  at  other  times  of  the  year  do  not 
dabble  in  anything  in  the  nature  of  plant  life,  “  go  in  ”  for  these 
at  Christmas,  and  make  their  way  to  the  wholesale  markets  for  their 
supply,  where  the  large  stocks  on  show  seem  to  give  a  seasonable 
appearance  to  the  whole  affair,  as  well  as  to  stir  up  joviality  among 
the  thronging  crowds.  Wreaths,  crosses,  harps,  and  other  devices 
formed  of  Holly  seem  to  be  much  in  demand  for  various  purposes; 
some  are  procured  for  the  embellishment  of  homes  and  churches, 
others  find  their  way  to  the  grassy  mound  or  recently  disturbed  soil 
of  a  burial  ground  under  which  lie  the  mortal  remains  of  some  dear 
one,  perhaps  one  who  for  the  first  time  will  be  absent  from  the 
Christmas  family  circle.  Gone;  but  not  forgotten  at  this  festive 
time.  A  pretty  custom  this ;  and  it  shows  the  tender  side  of  the 
so-called  unemotional  Briton.  Christmas  trees  of  an  infinite  variety 
of  sizes  are  abundant,  ranging  from  the  one  to  be  purchased  for  the 
modest  sixpence,  to  beautiful  specimens  for  which  the  “  golden 
sovereign”  is  asked.  AVhat  visions  of  delight  the  sight  of  such  trees 
conjure  up  in  the  minds  of  fortunate  juveniles;  and  among  all  the 
joys  of  the  season  none  perhaps  leaves  a  greater  impression  upon 
them  than  the  memories  which  linger  around  the  "  Christmas  tree.” 
To  those  of  mature  years  the  present  season  brings  its  moments  of 
reflection,  for  how  soon  after  the  Christmas  bells  have  ceased  to  ring 
do  we  enter  upon  the  last  few  moments  of  the  “  dying  year.” — 
H.  Dunkin. 
How  in  this  midwinter  season  we  see  in  every  direction,  both  in 
town  and  country,  anxiety  to  have  some  tree  or  shrub  greenery,  with 
or  without  berries.  AVhatever  may  be  the  fancies  and  fashions  of 
the  Christmas  season,  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  demand  for 
Holly  and  Mistletoe,  for  Fir  and  Laurel,  will  go  on  for  ever.  It  is 
sometimes  thought  that  the  demand  for  cut  flowers,  so  strong  and 
prevalent  during  the  flower-producing  months  of  the  year,  would 
some  day  cease,  and  leave  all  the  great  trade  of  production  thus 
created  high  and  dry.  We  need  not  fear  such  a  result;  certainly  the 
British  public,  with  all  its  variableness,  remains,  and  will  remain, 
just  as  faithful  in  its  love  for  flowers,  as  it  has  for  Holly  and  Mistletoe, 
for  hundreds  of  years. 
Probably  no  fact  that  can  be  presented  serves  more  strongly  than 
does  this  midwinter  appreciation  for  greenery  to  show  how  deep  seated 
is  the  love  not  only  for  flowers,  but  for  everything  that  seems  to 
bring  the  most  beautiful  of  Nature’s  attributes  into  our  lives.  If 
Christmas  be  the  season  for  greenery,  it  is  also  to  very  many  the 
season  for  flowers,  derived  from  some  source.  Chrysanthemums  may 
be  very  much  dearer,  but  Polyanthus  Narcisuis,  Roman  Hyacinths, 
and  Yan  Thol  Tulips  are  very  cheap,  and  for  those  who  can  afford 
the  luxury  beautiful  forced  flowers  are  plentiful.  It  is  doubtless  true 
that  some  sentimental  association  with  the  season  assists  thus  to 
popularise  greenery  at  Christmas,  but  it  is  most  certain  that  real  love 
for  it  is  the  great  factor  in  the  demand.  The  public  gladly  avail 
themselves  of  a  tradition  I  to  enable  them  to  display  their  leafy 
affection. — A.  Dean. 
“OUR  JOURNAL.” 
Sitting  by  the  fire  these  long  quiet  winter  evenings  one  thinks  of 
many  things,  and  as  every  Thursday  brings  the  Journal  of  Horti¬ 
culture  one’s  thoughts  are  filled  for  a  time  with  it  and  its  teachings  in 
the  present,  and,  being  old  and  grey-headed,  the  mind  goes  back  over 
the  many  years  we  have  had  it  for  a  companion  and  a  teacher.  AVe 
bring  up  before  us  past  lessons  and  the  past  writers  who  have  given 
us  those  lessons,  and  we  are  sincerely  thankful  that  such  a  guide  came 
early  in  our  way  ;  a  guide  so  wisely  practical,  so  genial  and  familiar, 
and  many  a  humourous  incident  crops  up  in  connection  with  it  that 
we  somehow  or  other  desire  to  chronicle.  Take  this — a  recent  one. 
“  Look  here,  my  friend,”  said  a  merry-eyed  though  grey-bearded 
gardener  when  I  complimented  him  at  Shrewsbury  last  year  on  an 
article  of  his  which  had  appeared  in  one  of  your  contemporaries,  “  the 
thing  was  spoilt — utterly  spoilt ;  all  the  spirit  was  taken  out  of  it~ 
You  see,  I’d  jndulged  in  a  little  humour.  I  had  poked  fun  ” — and 
here  his  eyes  fairly  glistened — “  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  it,  at 
everything  and  everybody  connected  with  the  subject,  and  you’ll 
hardly  believe  me,  but  every  blessed  word  of  it  was  struck  out.  I’ll 
tell  you  what  it  is,  there’s  room  for  another  gardening  paper — a  paper 
where  we  old  fellows  can  let  ourselves  go,  and  have  a  bit  of  chaff  one 
with  another.  AVe  don’t  want  to  know  how  to  dig  Potatoes,  nor 
crock  a  pot,  nor  dissect  a  flower,  nor  mix  chemical  manures,  nor  any¬ 
thing  of  that  sort — we  know  all  about  that ;  but  we  do  like  to  talk 
about  ourselves,  and  about  our  things,  and  about  one  another,  just  as 
you  and  I  should  do  when  having  a  crack  together  like  Tam  o’  Shanter 
and  Sou  tar  Johnnie,  only  with  not  so  much  of  the  cratur.” 
So  I  said,  “  AVell,  next  time  you  want  to  *  kick  up  your  heels  ’ 
try  the  Journal  of  Horticulture.  The  Editor  of  that  paper  is  a  genial 
soul,  and  admits  more  good  humour  in  his  paper  than  any  other 
gardening  periodical  I  know.” 
“  You’re  right,  and  so  I  will.  I  see  the  paper  sometimes  ;  indeed 
pretty  often.  My  neighbour  and  I  exchange  now  and  then  when  its 
convenient.  I’m  a  reader  of - ,  you  know.” 
Of  course,  I  had  to  explain  about  the  proprieties  and  convention¬ 
alities  of  journalism,  and  the  high  standard  to  be  attained  by  every 
paper,  and  the  excellence  of  its  literary  matter,  which  things  were 
vitalities  to  an  editor,  but  he  rather  curtly  brushed  all  those  on  one 
side  with — 
“  Oh  !  yes;  I  know  all  about  that.  To  be  sure,  there  must  be  the 
high  and  dry,  classically  correct  articles;  abstruse,  far-fetched,  dry-as- 
dust  subjects  discussed  in  grandiose  style,  and  a  lot  of  scientific 
prosings ;  but  then,  who  reads  them  ?  I  don’t,  you  don’t,  and  I’ve 
talked  with  lots  of  fellows  who  never  look  at  them;  but  let  the  least 
bit  of  humour  get  in,  and  we  read  that,  every  word  of  it.  And  don’t 
we  enjoy  a  goood  set-to  between  some  of  the  faddists,  specially  the 
‘mummers.’  Yes,  we  do  enjoy  it,  eh!  And,  I  tell  you  again,  we 
want  another  that  will  encourage  this.” 
Our  friend's  view  of  things  may  be  a  low  one,  and  there  may  be  a 
selfish  taint  in  it,  but  all  the  same  it  is  intensely  human;  we  do 
all  of  us  like  to  unbend  now  and  then.  We  are  all  drawn  to  the 
writer  whose  personality  comes  well  up  in  his  writings,  and  it  is 
the  humanity,  the  individuality  in  the  article  which  draws  us  with  its 
magnetic  power. 
Take  a  few  instances.  Donald  Beaton  of  the  past,  and  Robert 
Fenn,  and  our  chaplain,  “  D.,  Deal,"  in  the  past,  and  (for  which  we 
are  devoutly  thankful)  in  the  present  also,  “  VV.  Pea”  in  the  present, 
and  his  humorous  way  of  putting  things,  “  The  Missus  ”  with  her 
prose  poems,  which  appear  all  too  seldom,  the  personality  and 
patriarchal  wisdom  of  “  An  Old  Boy,”  “  W.  R.  Raillem  ”  on  Roses, 
or  anything  else  ;  even  “  Amateur”  and  his  blowing  up  his  trees  with 
gunpowder.  AVe  read  all  these  writings  through,  whilst  I  am  afraid 
we  skip  a  deal  of  the  solidly  practical,  and  then,  what  we  get  in  “  Our 
Journal  ”  and  nowhere  else,  is  a  good-humoured  set-to,  and  here  our 
good  friend  “  A.  D.”  comes  in,  and  how  we  do  tumble  him  about ! 
What  a  strong  personality  his  is,  and  how  he  sets  us  all  right  (even 
me  !)  and  how  sublimely  he  ignores  the  attacks  made  upon  him,  and 
how  courteous  he  is,  and  sticks  to  his  subject  through  thick  and  thin  ! 
What  a  different  man  he  is  when  you  know  him  personally  ! 
