October  29,  1808. 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
427 
down  to  the  roots,  and  these  andoabtedly  feed  more  during  winter 
than  many  apparently  imagine.  I  believe  almost  all  successful  exhibitors 
mulch  heavily  about  this  time,  and  experience  is  the  best  test. 
Planting  Roses  and  hedge  Briars  for  stocks  will  now  be  in  full 
progress,  and  I  wonld  recommend  much  harder  pruning  of  Briar  roots 
than  I  saw  being  done  a  day  or  two  back.  The  large  knobby  roots  were 
being  left  almost  intact,  some  of  the  stocks  carrying  immense  knobs. 
Our  practice  is  to  cut  the  stock  off  close  to  this  knob,  much  in  the  same 
manner  as  one  removes  a  Rose  cutting  with  a  small  portion  of  heel  or 
old  wood  attached.  If  planted  early  these  will  root  quite  as  freely  when 
BO  treated  as  if  the  whole  knob  was  left.  By  close  pruning  we  do  not 
get  so  many  suckers,  and  instead  of  a  few  roots  from  the  farther  points 
of  the  knob  we  get  a  mass  of  roots  that  do  not  break  off  so  freely  upon 
transplantation.  See  that  all  loose  waving  shoots  of  Roses  are  secured 
against  chafing  and  injury  from  breaking. 
There  is  one  more  Rose  1  must  mention.  This  is  Rosa  rugosa  calo- 
carpa,  a  very  strong  growing  hybrid  that  is  now  carrying  some  of  the 
more  beautifully  coloured  leafage  I  have  seen.  Deep  crimson,  rose, 
golden  yellow,  and  reddish  bronze  are  all  present.  Before  me  at  the 
time  of  writing  is  a  bowl  of  Roses  set  among  large  sprays  of  this  rugosa, 
and  the  clear  pink  of  Caroline  Testout,  the  orange  yellow  of  W.  Allen 
Richardson,  and  other  colours  look  equally  charming  with  such  a  back* 
ground.  A  few  sprays  cut  fully  three  weeks  back  are  still  holding  their 
coloured  leaves  as  fresh  and  fast  as  ever. — Practice. 
PIPTANTHUS  NEPALENSIS. 
The  present  being  an  excellent  time  for  planting,  we  may  with 
advantage  call  attention  to  that  rare  and  little  known  Indian  shrub 
Piptanthus  nepalensis  (fig.  77),  sometimes  known  as  the  Evergreen 
Laburnum.  Though  it  bears  some  resemblance  to  one  of  our  most 
common  and  beautiful  flowering  trees,  yet  it  can  be  easily  distinguished 
from  it  at  a  glance  by  the  most  casual  observer.  It  is  one  of  those 
numerous  old  inhabitants  of  our  gardens  that  deserve  to  be  rescued 
from  the  obscurity  and  neglect  into  which  they  have  fallen  owing  to 
the  continued  and  extended  introduction  of  novelties.  It  is  of  branch¬ 
ing  habit,  but  not  bushy,  and  seems  to  need  support  of  some  kind,  as  it 
has  a  rather  straggling  appearance.  Trained  to  a  wall  it  both  succeeds 
well  and  is  very  pretty  during  May  and  early  June,  as  it  flowers 
abundantly  when  in  good  condition.  It  needs  the  protection  of  a  wall 
in  the  northern  and  colder  districts,  but  in  the  south  it  is  rarely  injured, 
even  if  planted  in  the  open. 
HOT  WATER,  MUSTARD,  AND  LIME. 
“  I  SEE  you  have  tickled  them  up.  Gardener.  I  thought  you  would  ; 
one  of  them  can’t  shake  off  the  lime,  and  the  other  is  twirling  about 
among  the  mustard.  Mr.  D.  wants  to  know  a  few  things,  while  Mr.  A. 
says  you  spoiled  the  hot  water  through  not  boiling  it,  and  that  you 
cribbed  the  lime  from  himself.” 
Thus  spoke  my  excellent  master  when  he  came  into  the  garden  on 
Friday  morning.  He  always  calls  me  “  Gardener,”  and  I  want  no  better 
name.  He  gets  his  Journal  before  I  get  mine,  which  does  not  arrive  at  my 
cottage  till  half-past  nine  o’clock,  and  I  leave  after  breakfast  at  half¬ 
past  eight.  I  didn’t,  however,  go  back  home  till  dinner  time  to  see  what 
was  the  matter. 
I  don’t  mind  saying  now,  and  the  master  won’t  mind  either,  that  it 
was  he  who  asked  me  to  write  my  first  letter.  He  said,  “Why  don’t 
you  tell  them  about  the  mustard  and  water  as  well  as  that  dosing  of  lime 
we  gave  to  the  new  garden?”  “  What  I  me  write  to  the  Journal,  sir. 
Why,  I  couldn’t  do  it  for  a  pension.”  I  was  sorry  the  word  slipped  out, 
but  the  master  would  know  I  didn’t  mean  anything.  He  pays  me  as  well 
as  the  Hall  gardener  is  paid,  who  has  five  men  under  him,  and  I  am  as 
happy  as  he  is  anyhow.  A  good  single-handed  place  is  the  place  for 
me.  I  have  had  it  ten  years,  and  hope  to  have  it  for  twice  ten  more. 
There  is  never  any  bother,  and  the  master  is  always  ready  to  look  after 
the  little  vinery,  greenhouse,  and  Cucumber  pit  when  I  want  a  day  off 
for  a  flower  show.  As  for  Tomatoes  we  just  rig  up  some  frame-lights 
against  a  south  wall,  get  good  crops  under  them,  and  never  have  any¬ 
thing  the  matter  with  them  or  the  Cucumbers. 
But  I  am  running  away.  “  Oh,  yes  you  can,”  he  said  ;  “  write  some¬ 
thing  to-night,  and  let  me  have  it  in  the  morning,  to  see  if  it  needs  a  few 
touches  ;  if  we  both  can’t  manage  to  get  a  letter  in  it  is  a  pity.”  I  liked 
that  “  both,”  which  sounded  like  a  friendly  partnership,  and  that  is  the 
how  and  the  why  I  came  to  write. 
Dinner  time  came,  and  I  shall  not  forget  it.  Mary  almost  flew  at 
me.  She  had  been  reading  the  Journal.  “  You’ve  got  a  pretty  mauling  ; 
serves  you  right.  Why  can’t  you  mind  your  work  —  there’s  plenty 
wants  doing — and  let  them  paper  fellows  alone  ?  They’ll  only  call  you  a 
single-handed  upstart.  What  did  you  let  that  out  for  ?  Why  didn’t 
you  put  ‘  Gardener,’  and  leave  the  rest  out  ?  Thought  you  had  more 
respect  for  yourself  ;  but  there,  you  will  meddle,  and  I  hope  you’ve  got 
cured  at  last.  Why,  there’s  one  man  doesn’t  believe  you  about  lime, 
and  the  other  says  plainly  that  you’ve  been  cribbing  from  somebody  else. 
Whatever  will  the  master  think,  who  trusts  you  all  day  long — cribbing  I 
I  should  hate  it,”  and  so  on. 
Now  Mary,  you  must  understand,  is  a  splendid  little  woman,  and  has 
a  local  reputation  for  minding  her  own  business,  and  not  interfering 
with  her  neighbours’.  That  is  why  she  was  hurt,  and  forced  into  lecturing 
her  devoted  spouse.  After  the  lecture  I  thought  to  myself,  the  worst  is 
over  now,  and  nothing  that  Mr.  A.  or  Mr.  D.  has  said  will  very  much 
upset  me.  so  I  read  their  learned  communications  on  page  400. 
Mr.  D.  says  he  “  smiled  ”  on  reading  my  first  article.  That  is  good. 
It  is  something  to  make  a  scientific  man  smile.  He  now  says  he  is  a 
working  gardener.  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  and  feel  proud  of  him.  I 
thought  he  was  one  of  these  young  university  lecturers  with  long  hair. 
I  have  seen  and  heard  three  of  them,  and  thought  them  clever,  but  far 
above  me,  as  they  ought  to  be,  and  not  very  difficult  either.  Mr.  D. 
wants  to  know  a  few  things,  and  as  he  asks  me  what  I  have  done  myself 
I  can  easily  answer  him ;  but  I  cannot  answer  his  question  about 
“  supposing  mustard  would  kill  eelworm,  how  would  it  reach  them  in  the 
tissues?”  because,  as  I  said  clearly,  I  have  not  had  a  chance  of  trying. 
Perhaps  it  would  not  reach  them,  and  if  it  did  I  should  only  expect  the 
FIG.  77.— PIPTANTHUS  NEPALENSIS, 
mustard  to  make  them  lively  for  the  hot  water  to  kill.  Does  he  know 
that  maggots  can  be  killed  dead  as  doornails  in  the  inside  of  Celery 
leaves  without  injuring  the  “  tissues  ?  ” 
I  note  the  ^  lb.  of  salt  dressing  to  the  square  yard  does  not  frighten 
him,  though  he  says  it  means  over  a  ton  to  the  acre.  The  quantity 
advised  in  my  old  guide  book,  Johnson’s  “Gardeners’  Dictionary,”  is 
20  bushels.  The  same  authority  advises  the  same  amount  of  gas  lime. 
I  have  used  five  times  as  much  with  benefit  to  soil  and  crops. 
Mr.  D.  next  wants  to  know  what  I  mean  by  5,  10,  and  15  per  cent,  of 
lime.  Simply  that  a  dressing  was  spread  ^  inch  thick  on  a  piece  of  land 
and  mixed  in  by  digging  with  forks  a  foot  deep,  and  it  did  no  good  that 
I  could  see ;  then  an  inch  thick  was  spread  on,  and  did  much  good  ;  then 
a  1^  inch  layer  (in  some  parts  more),  and  it  did  the  most  good  by  far  to 
the  first  crop  following  and  others  that  came  after.  Now  we  come  to 
the  questions : — 
1,  “  What  kind  of  lime  ?  ”  From  limestone,  not  chalk,  whitish  when 
slaked,  not  bluish,  like  lias  lime. 
2,  “What  kind  of  soil?”  Just  as  cheesy  as  he  can  imagine,  the 
result  of  stupid  trenching  and  bringing  a  foot  of  the  worst  bottom  soil 
to  the  top.  The  first  year  nothing  would  grow  on  it  except  a  few  miser¬ 
able  weeds,  and  we  set  ourselves  to  try  experiments  in  making  it  grow 
vegetables. 
3,  “  On  what  dp  I  base  the  calculations  that  the  heaviest  dressing 
was  the  most  profitable  ?  ”  Because  the  yield  of  Potatoes  was  so  much 
greater  than  from  the  other  dressings,  and  which  astonished  everybody 
who  saw  the  crops,  and,  further,  because  the  land  was  so  much  improved 
