n48 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
December  9,  1897, 
skig  and  kainit  were  then  forked  into  the  soil,  and  left  for  the  rest  of 
th^ winter.  In  February  the  soil  was  again  dug  over  with  the  fork, 
and  the  Tomatoes  planted.  They  have  now  been  again  taken  up,  hut 
not  the  slightest  trace  of  eelworm  is  present  on  any  of  them. 
A  Soluble  Phenyle  Failure. 
I  should  now  like  to  pass  a  few  remarks  upon  some  trials  ■with 
soluble  phenyle  that  came  under  my  notice  this  year.  A  hatch  of 
young  Cucumber  plants  growing  on  a  nursery  where  eelworm  was 
known  to  exist  were  watered  with  soluble  phenyle,  not  one  part  in 
ninety-six  parts  of  water  as  advised,  but  one  part  of  phenyle  in  384 
parts  of  water.  When  I  saw  the  plants  a  week  after  the  dose  was 
given  they  looked  as  if  they  had  received  a  severe  check.  In  the 
same  house  I  saw  thirty  empty  pots,  and  on  inquiry  I  learnt  that 
Cucumber  plants  were  growing  in  these  similar  in  size  to  those  to 
■which  I  have  just  referred.  Every  one,  however,  was  killed  because 
they  were  watered  with  a  solution  of  soluble  phenyle — one  part  in 
ninety-six  parts  of  water.  One  part  of  soluble  phenyle  in  384  parts 
of  water  was  applied  to  Cucumber  plants  growing  in  borders,  and  to 
quote  the  words  of  the  owners,  “  the  plants  hung  their  heads  like  wet 
clothes.”  Some  plants  growing  in  the  borders  were  also  killed  when 
soluble  phenyle  \\  as  applied  to  them  at  the  rate  of  one  part  in  ninety- 
six  parts  of  water.  Perhaps  some  of  your  numerous  readers  have  tried 
soluble  phenyle ;  if  so,  will  they  kindly  favour  us  with  their 
experience?  Mr.  Iggulden  and  “By-the-Sea”  might  send  a  few 
lines  of  comment  on  the  above  case,  re-stating  the  quantities  of  the 
“  remedy”  applied,  with  results. 
I  have  yet  to  learn  what  soluble  phenyle  contains  to  make  its 
application  valuable  to  crops  as  food,  as  stated  so  many  times  in  the 
Journal  of  Horticulture.  Perhaps  ^tr.  G.  Abbey  will  kindly  inform 
ms. — W.  Dyke. 
[There  has  evidently  been  a  mistake  somewhere  by  someone,  if  not 
more  than  one.  If  in  the  experience  of  one  person  one  part  of  soluble 
phenyle  in  ninety-six  parts  of  water  is  safe,  while  another  person  finds 
a  solution  four  times  weaker  dangerous,  the  subject  obviously  demands 
close  investigation.] 
THE  GLOOMY  TIME. 
The  sad  days  are  upon  us  now,  and  the  garden  has  little  left  to 
charm.  Winter  has  as  yet  but  breathed  upon  us  with  bated  breath  ; 
he  has  not  launched  upon  the  floAvers  his  fierce,  cutting  winds,  which, 
like  poisoned  arrows,  bring  death  in  their  train.  Yet  though  he  has 
come  with  almost  invisible  presence,  we  cannot  but  feel  that  he  is 
here.  No  longer  do  we  delight  to  linger  over  the  flowers.  No  longer 
do  we  stay  to  admire  the  lustre  of  the  petals,  the  beauty  of  the  leaf. 
If  we  venture  among  the  plants  it  is  for  a  brief  stay,  and  our  enjoy¬ 
ment  is  more  than  tempered— it  is  saddened,  by  the  death  of  the 
flowers.  Leaden  skies,  weeping  as  they  lower,  hang  over  us.  The 
silver  lining  is  not  in  sight,  and,  human-like,  we  are  filled  Avith  the 
mourning  of  the  time.  Through  the  fast  thinning  Whitethorn  hedge 
the  sea  looks  cold  and  grim  and  forbidding.  From  the  hedge  the 
brown  and  yellow  leaves  flutter  and  fall.  The  Clematis  on  the  archway 
is  a  network  of  branches,  no  longer  covered  Avith  leaves  and  fioAvers. 
Only  a  few  of  its  seeds  remain,  and  soon  these  Avill,  like  the  others, 
float  in  the  Avind  as  their  feathered  awns  catch  the  breeze.  Herbaceous 
flowers  are  but  skeletons  of  the  dead ;  bare  and  brown,  they  are 
Avaiting  until  they  are  cleared  away.  As  we  look  upon  the  garden 
and  its  inmates,  Ave  think  of  the  songs  and  stories  of  the  season’s 
sadness — hoAv  poet  and  prose  AAwiter  have  told  its  tale.  We  seem  to  see 
through  all  the  pain-worn  poet,  David  Gray,  and  to  hear  his  prayer — 
0,  Winter,  wilt  tliou  never,  never  go  ? 
0,  Summer,  but  I  weary  for  thy  coming. 
Yet  this  man,  thirsting  as  it  AA  ere  for  the  joy  of  the  golden  hours, 
could  yet  behold  with  ecstasy  the  Avinter  sunset  and  the  “  eternal 
moon,”  finding  in  these  something  to  allay  the  passionate  longing  for 
the  resurrection  of  the  glad  summer  time. 
So  may  we,  as  Ave  have  done  before,  find  our  love  of  the  garden,  if 
urisatisfied,  at  least  rcAvarded,  by  the  revelation  of  some  beauty  in  the 
midst  of  the  shadows  which  overhang.  The  robin  pipes  a  cheerful 
song  as  he  sits  near  us.  So  may  we  find  cheer  amid  the  gloom.  But 
for  the  shadoAVS  we  would  not  enjoy  to  the  full  the  light  Avhich 
follows  when  they  are  SA\-ept  aAvay.  They  are  not  for  ever,  and  their 
coming  gives  us  that  change  Ave  desire.  As  Sir  EdAvin  Arnold  says  in 
“  The  Shadow  of  the  Cross :  ” — 
We  know  how  weary  the  daAvns  would  go. 
Lacking  the  promise  of  placid  eves; 
We  know  how  fiercely  the  hours  could  glow, 
Without  the  cool  green  dusk  under  the  leaves. 
These  times,  too,  git'e  us  the  opportunity  and  desire  for  other 
phases  of  beauty — other  aspects  in  which  the  garden  can  give  us 
enjoyment  and  satisfaction. 
We  see  Avith,  as  it  AA'ore,  neAv  eyes,  and  in  these  shadoAvcd  days 
arc  receptive  of  other,  if  more  sober,  joys.  It  is  noAv  that  even  the 
moss  on  the  grey  Avail,  the  Stonecrop,  and  the  Honseleek  beside  it  or 
on  the  roof,  acquire  a  neAv  beauty.  The  moss,  refreshed  by  the  rain? 
and  undried  by  parching  Avinds,  is  bright  as  emeralds.  The  heps  of 
the  SAveet  Briars  in  the  hedge  are  scarlet,  and  glow  even  in  the  gloom, 
so  plentiful  are  they  yet  Avhen  frost  has  not  driven  the  birds  to  clear 
the  serried  branches.  The  Cotoneaster  is  beaded  Avith  its  dull  red 
berries  which  before  Avinter  flies  away  Avill  give  the  birds  many  a 
needed  meal.  The  Mossy  Saxifrages  are  mounds  of  brightest  green, 
and  the  evergreen  plants  give  cheer  amid  the  decay  around.  The  “  Ivy 
green,”  of  AA  hich  Charles  Dickens  sung  so  heartily,  is  bright  on  the 
wall  and  the  trellis.  The  Holly,  with  its  glossy,  prickly  leaves,  is 
never  so  Avelcomed  as  in  this  season,  when  its  scarlet  berries  shine  like 
jewels  upon  their  branches.  The  Euonymus  by  the  windoAV  is  glossier 
than  when  the  sun  looked  down  upon  it  in  dazzlipg  splendour  instead 
of,  as  noAv,  weary  looking  AA’ith  hiding  behind  the  clouds.  Now,  too, 
we  begin  to  realise  the  Avorth  of  some  features  of  other  plants  which 
passed  unnoticed  when  Ave  were  too  much  engrossed  Avith  the  colour 
and  beauty  of  the  children  of  the  light.  Among  these  are  some  sih’er 
or  silver  grey  plants  to  AA^hich  we  may  devote  a  portion  of  the  space 
which  remains. 
In  the  rock  garden  there  is  a  good  bush  of  the  hoary  Lavender 
Cotton,  known  to  botanists  by  a  name  we  almost  shrink  to  write.  It 
is  Santolina  Chamascyparissus  var.  incana.  What  things  are  done, 
and  what  names  giv^en  under  the  guise  of  science  !  For  pity’s  sake  aa'b 
never,  in  speaking  of  it,  use  the  many-syllabled  name,  and,  in  lieu, 
call  it  Santolina  incana,  or  use  the  English  name  of  Hoary  or  Silvery 
Lavender  Cotton.  It  is  a  flowering  plant,  but  its  flowers  are  small, 
rayless,  and  yellow  in  colour,  and  its  beauty  lies  in  its  silvery  and 
attractive  foliage.  It  looks  as  if  poAvdered  over,  and  a  good  bush, 
unless  Avhen  thoroughly  wet,  is  very  pleasing  on  a  dull  and  cloudy 
day.  It  grows  rapidly  on  a  light,  dry  soil  and  submits  uncomplain¬ 
ingly  to  cutting  back  and  reducing  in  size.  In  some  cold  gardens  it 
is  a  little  delicate,  but  Avith  me  it  gives  no  trouble. 
Hardly  silvery,  yet  light  enough  in  its  glaucous  green  to  give  a 
brighter  tint  in  its  dark  surroundings,  is  Othonnopsis  cheirifolia,  a 
succulent  looking  plant  I  have  spoken  of  before,  but  from  a  different 
point  of  view.  It  is  an  uncommon  looking  plant  with  its  flattened 
foliage,  and  now  and  then  Avill  give  us  a  floAver  or  tAvo  in  the  depth  of 
winter.  Even  noAv  some  buds  of  this  Barbary  Eagwort  seem  as  if  a 
AA'eek  or  tAvo  Avould  cause  them  to  open  into  yelloAv  Marigold-like 
blooms.  Look  into  the  little  arbour  whose  lattice-work  is  coAmred 
AAdth  Eoses  all  floAA^erless  now,  but  not  leafless  yet.  There  is  silver 
here  also,  but  it  is  the  silver  of  the  penniless  “  Money-in-hoth-Pockets  ” 
— the  Honesty.  The  outer  coverings  of  the  seed  vessels  have  gone.  The 
“  money  ”  (the  seed)  has  fallen,  and  only  the  inner  lining  AA'ith  its 
silver  Avhite  colouring  is  left.  It  is  still  coveted  for  its  use  in  the 
house  as  in  long  past  years,  but  some  plants  are  ahvays  left  to  keep 
up  the  stock  from  self-soAvn  seedlings.  A  colony  of  these  has  been 
in  the  arbour  for  a  year  or  two,  and  is  equally  pretty  Avhen  in  flower 
in  spring  and  noAv,  Avhen  shoAving  the  silvery  linings.  A  little 
earlier  than  this  they  look  shabby,  but  the  compensation  has  come  at 
the  present  time.  Very  pleasing,  too,  just  now  is  a  variegated  form 
of  Cheiranthus  alpinus,  which  reminds  one  of  a  halcyon  day  at  Carton. 
It  originated  there,  and  is  known  as  the  Carton  WallfloAA'er.  Its 
green  and  Avhite  foliage  is  pretty  now,  and  is  at  all  times  worthy  of 
observation.  Close  by  is  a  variegated  form  of  Saxifraga  Gtithrieuna,  a 
very  distinct  gold  and  green  leaved  plant,  resembling  nothing  more 
than  the  well-knoAAui  Arahis  lucida  variegata,  but  more  reflned  in 
every  AA’ay.  These  variegated  Arabises,  of  Avhicli  there  are  several, 
are  also  bright  and  give  the  variety  we  seek  at  this  time. 
There  are  mounds' of  Alyssum  saxatile — noAv  in  qiiaker  grey,  but 
adorned  in  spring  with  a  mantle  of  cloth  of  gold.  There  are,  besides, 
carpets  of  silvery  Anthemises  and  Antennarias,  and  others  of  like 
colouring.  Nor  are  these  beauties  of  leaf- colouring  all.  There  are 
waifs  and  strays  left  from  the  dispersal  of  the  flowers.  Some  are 
Aveary  Avith  the  struggle  against  the  season’s  poAver,  and  look  out  wan 
and  faint  upon  us  as  we  pass.  Crimson  and  pink  Gladioli,  Asters, 
Scabiouses  (the  Mourning  Widows),  some  sprays  of  Alyssum  gemonense, 
a  very  feAv  Antirrhinums,  a  fevv  spikes  of  Veronica  parviflora,  a  small 
number  of  Violas;  Linum  flavum,  Avhose  yelloAv  pointed  buds  cannot 
fully  open  from  want  of  sun — these  are  present,  with  others  besides. 
Potentilla  alchemilloides,  with  its  white  floAvers,  has  a  partner  in 
Geum  pyrenaicum,  a  young  plant  of  the  latter  giving  its  yellow 
flowers. 
A  bunch  of  double  rose-coloured  Colchicums  has  disconsolate, 
drenched  rivals  in  the  various  Crocuses  yet  in  bloom.  There  is  a  late- 
produced  spike  of  Eryngium  Oliverianum ;  there  are  annual  and 
perennial  Chrysanthemums,  and  here  and  there  a  scarlet  or  yellow 
Nasturtium  is  to  be  seen  on  the  trellis.  These,  Avith  a  feAV  others,  are 
in  company  AAuth  double  Primroses,  a  feAv  Christmas  Eoses,  a  stray 
picking  of  Violets,  even  noAv  “  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno’s  eyes  or 
Cytherea’s  breath,”  and  other  adventurous  spring  floAvers,  Avhich  the 
mild  time  has  cheated  into  fancying  it  the  ncAA’,  and  not  the  old  year. 
