22 
JOURXAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
January  12,  1899. 
How  many  thousands  of  g()od  young  trees  have  been  mined  by 
rough  or  wrong  planting  and  non-pruning,  or  “leaving  them  to 
Xatiirc,”  as  the  planters  erroneously  think.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
their  action  is  in  violent  antagonism  to  Nature.  When  the  raisers  of 
thrifty  young  trees  have  prepared  the  land  well  for  their  reception, 
and  by  proper  pruning  formed  them  into  shape  by  la}'ing  a  good 
foundation  of  branches,  the  trees  make  admirable  growth.  They  are 
thus  sent  from  well-managed  nurseries  in  that  respect  in  the  best  of 
condition.  If  they  were  left  undisturbed  in  the  nurseries  and  had 
ample  room  for  development  it  might  be  wise  not  to  prune  some  at 
.all  beyond  removing  perhaps  a  few  small  superfluous  hr  inches 
entirely,  and  shortening  the  i.nripe  tips  of  those  intended  to  bear 
fruit.  That  would  be  the  best  plan  if  the  branches  were  sufficiently 
numerous  to  forma  good  tree;  but  if  too  few  it  avould  be  right  to 
shorten  them  for  producing  more,  and  that  is  what  a  good  nurseryman 
would  do.  In  both  cases  “Nature”  avould  be  assisted — in  the 
former  instance  to  stud  the  healthy  unshortened  branches  with  blossom 
buds;  in  the  latter  to  ineite  free,  healthy,  and,  for  the  first  season  at 
least,  blo'somless  grow  tit. 
But  digging  up  the  young  trees,  planting  them,  and  then  not 
shortening  the  long  young  branches,  is  quite  another  matter.  This  is 
not  aiding  Nature  in  the  least,  but  the  exact  ojiposite,  because  Nature 
does  not  dig  up  the  young  trees  and  leave  behind  the  greater  propor¬ 
tion  of  fibrous  roots  that  were  necessary  to  support  the  rod-like 
br.mches.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  that  the  paucity  of  roots  left 
can  in  any  adequate  way  support  them  after  the  trees  are  replanted. 
For  producing  free  growth  the  first  season  the  branches  must  be 
cut  back  in  proportion  to  the  roots  which  have  been  shortened — left 
behind  in  the  process  of  digging  up.  This  branch  pruning  avill  be  to 
the  extent' of  one-half,  but  more  probably  two-thirds,  as  equivalent  to 
the  loss  of  fibi’.jus  roots.  The  best  time  for  cutting  back  the  brandies 
of  newly  planted  trees,  is  not  when  all  the  buds  are  dormant,  but 
when  those  at  the  extremities  are  elongating  and  on  the  point  of 
unfolding  young  leaves.  The  lower  buds  will  then  be  in  a  quiescent 
state  ;  still  the  sap  will  be  active,  and  the  removal  of  the  upper  half 
or  more  of  the  branches  will  concentrate  it  on  the  lower  buds,  which 
will  quicklj'  start  into  growth.  This  wuas  the  practice  of  the  old 
masters,  who  called  it  “flushing”  the  buds  for  forming  a  strong  base 
to  the  wall  trees,  of  wdiich  they  were  so  justly  proud.  The  young 
sparks  of  the  present  day  think  they  can  grow  and  train  them  equally 
w'ell,  but  they  can  do  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  they  are  more  expert  at 
spoiling  trees,  as  was  very  truly  pointed  out  by  “A  Nurseryman” 
aot  many  weeks  ago. 
At  present  we  come  to  this  fact — if  you  want  a  free  healthy 
growth  of  wood,  cut  well  back  the  branches  for  producing  it;  if  you 
want  to  see  the  branches  of  trees  studded  with  bold  fruit  buds,  the 
less  of  shortening  the  better,  and  then  if  the  branches  are  thinly 
disposed,  or  not  less  than  a  foot  apart,  and  pre'’erabiy  more,  wood 
buds  will  be  changed  into  blossom  buds  because  they  cannot  help  it. 
7t  is  easy  enough  to  efl’cet  such  change,  but  difficult  to  transform 
a  blossom  into  a  w’oed  bud.  Such  at  least  is  the  experience  of — 
An  Old  Hand. 
IN  THE  DAWN  OF  THE  YEAH. 
When  wc  cross  the  threshold  of  a  new  year,  Hope  is  our  welcom¬ 
ing  •ord.  We  look  on  the  garden,  not  as  it  is  now  ;  we  think  of 
sunnier  days,  when  flowers  are  no  longer  scarce ;  wdicn  they 
laugh  in  the  sunlight,  and  breathe  the  summer  air.  But  this  word 
“Hope’’  is  spoken  with  bated  breath.  We  have  had  a  mild  winter; 
it  cannot  last  like  this  until  summer  comes.  We  knorv  that  chill 
avinds  and  keen  frosts  will  come  to  check  our  flowers.  Even  now, 
though  mild  in  the  garden,  the  mouirtain  which  towers  not  far  away 
R  white  with  snow.  True  is  it  that  the  charm  of  the  garden  now  is 
ihe  promi.so  it  gives  of  the  future.  Yet  it  is  no  less  true  that  even  at 
this  drear  time  we  may  glean  ]de.asure.  “Glean”  we  say  advisedly 
}i>r  no  Gieaves  of  flowers  are  there,  but  only  stray  treasures  for  the 
glc.ancr.  H  m.ay  seem  .‘cuccly  worth  wdiile  telling  of  thc.se,  yet  to 
some  they  may  give  good  cheer. 
First  must  come  the  Snowdrop,  ca  led  the  “  earnest  of  the  year.” 
Not  yet  have  come  the  “Fair  Maids  of  February,’’ which  in  snowy 
sheets  whiten  many  a  park  or  lawn,  or  in  the  border  cont-ast  with 
the  blackness  of  Mother  Earth.  They  am  ha'^tening  on,  but  dally  stilly 
for  their  time  is  only  near,  and  has  not  arrived.  Welcome  will 
that  time  be,  when,  instead  of  a  few  of  these  peaily  eardrops,  we 
have  them  in  phalanxes — an  Amazonian  army  of  loveliness. 
Look  avith  me  now  at.  those  in  bloom.  Galanthus  cctobrensis 
comes  first.  It  is  not  well  named;  December  is  its  usual  month, 
and  although  a  few  flowers  look  now  forlorn,  several  others 
are  yet  fresh  and  pure.  There,  too,  is  Galanthus  Elsae.  From 
Grecian  soil  it  has  fourl  its  wnay  to  our  -northern  isle,  wfficre  it 
seems  happy  wi'.h  u-:,  though  not  ■with  everyone.  A  shapely  Snow¬ 
drop  it  is,  fairly  stout  and  strong.  Here,  again,  is  a  plant  of  a 
selected  variety  of  the  Bithynian  stock  of  Galanthus  byzantinus. 
It  seems,  as  it  is  understood  to  be,  a  hjbrid  between  Galanthus 
Elwcsi  and  Galanthus  plicatus.  With  the  floaver  of  the  first  and 
the  leaves  of  the  second  it  is  an  interesting  plant.  Not  all  the 
bulbs  of  this  Snowdrop  give  flinvers  so  soon,  for  this  variety  was 
selected  by  our  Snowdrop  pundit,  Mr.  James  Allen,  from  among 
many  of  later  bloom. 
The  queen  of  the  Snow'drop  now  is,  however,  Mr.  Edward 
Whittall’s  newdy  found  giant  variety  of  Galanthus  Elwesi.  It 
may  not  always  bloom  so  early  in  (he  season,  but  when  it  does 
it  will  always  be  welcome  with  its  broad  leaves,  tall  stems, 
and  large  flowers.  If,  as  is  raid,  the  maiden  of  the  end  of  this 
century  is  taller  and  more  athletic  than  was  .‘■he  of  its  beginning, 
we  may  consider  this  new  Snowdrop  her  representative  in  the 
maidenly  possession.  Another  herald  is  there,  too,  but  one  of 
summer,  which  has  either  been  asleep  until  long  after  the  fine  of 
trumpet-call  or  has  come  untimeously.  It  is  a  flower  of  the  large 
white  Peach-leaved  Bellflower,  Campanula  pcrsicifolia  alba  grandi- 
flora.  Oh,  foolish  flow'er  !  Pretly  it  is  though  jit  has  opened  ’mid 
rain  and  frosty  nights  and  all  the  discomforts  of  the  season  o,f  the  year. 
Its  fate  is  no  mystery  to  us. 
“  Fair-handed  spring”  is  yet  afar  off,  but  the  early  Crocus  accom¬ 
panies  the  Snowdrop,  though  its  deity,  the  sun,  gives  it  few  of  his 
favours.  Here  is  the  bright  orange  yellow  Crocus  vitellinus,  brighter 
than  gold  in  the  garden  this  gloomy  day.  Its  roots  and  leaves  have 
luighel  the  alchunist  to  scorn,  and  have  from  earth  and  air  with 
mysterious  process  drawn  tho  e  cups  of  deepest  gold.  Though  the 
sun  smiles  not,  and  they  cannot  open  (heir  blight  chalices,  these 
little  s]  ires  are  precious  gems  to  us  no\v^ 
In  more  Quaker  garb  is  Crocus  Crewei,  with  buff,  dark  purple 
lined  cones,  which  grows  close  by  ;  it  wearies  for  the  sunlight.  Its 
dress  may  now  be  sober  and  dull,  but  its  inner  beauties  are  great. 
When  the  sun  shines  brighter  it  will  open  its  white  saucers,  zoned 
with  gold  and  contrasted  by  the  black  anthers  which  are  its  most 
distinct  feature.  One  or  two  more  Crocuses  there  are  now,  and  many 
are  on  the  way  to  hi  ready  to  resjrond  to  the  wooing  of  the  January 
sun. 
If  the  Almond  is  to  the  Mahommedans  typical  of  hope,  what  to 
us  lovers  of  the  garden  must  be  that  little  tree  whose  petals  now 
begin  to  show  ?  Long  before  the  Almond  it  clothes  its  bare  branches 
with  flowers.  It  is  a  precious  thing  indeed  which  will  open  when  we 
have  just  left  New  Year’s  Day  behind.  The  tree  is  Prunus  Davidiana, 
a  variety  of  P.  pcrsica.  'Ihe  first  flowers  are  bursting  through. 
They  are  avorlh  looking  at  even  now ;  the  white  variety  with  its 
petals  showing  above  the  pale  green  calyx,  and  tho  bright  red  of  tho 
variety  rubra  showing  through  the  brown-green  of  its  protective 
covering.  Heavy  rains  and  clouded  skies  have  kept  back  some  of 
our  early  flowers,  but  the  winter  Heath,  Erica  carnea,  has  begun  to 
show  colour  on  its  wax-like  blooms.  Soon  it  will  be  bright  and 
ready  for  the  first  lee  which  ventures  to  wander  from  its  hive. 
One  could  tell  of  the  pale  gold  of  the  Winter  Aconite  peeping 
tl  rough ;  of  some  other  flowers,  such  as  the  Polyanthus  or  the 
Wallfloover,  which  give  us  bits  of  colour  now.  One  could  tell  of  tho 
greenery  around,  ot  Saxifrage,  of  Ivy%  of  Cotoncaster,  or  other  plants 
whose  leaves  are  green.  One  could  tell,  too,  of  tho  golden  stars  of  the 
yellow  Jasmine.  Above  all  we  couhl  tell,  did  not  space  fail,  of  a  rare 
Iris  or  two  past,  in  bloom,  or  coming  on,  or  of  the  many  bulbous 
flowers  which,  with  wondrous  power  in  their  delicate  unfolded  leaves, 
have  pierced  the  soil  in  obedience  to  Nature’s  laws.  The  greenhouse 
may  be  gay',  the  garden  dull,  but  its  beds,  its  borders,  and  rockeries, 
a:e  full  of  never-dying  interest  in  the  dawn  of  the  year. — S.  Aenott. 
