42?, 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
May  14,  1903. 
The  new  Chinese  herbaceous  plant,  for  which  Messrs.  J.  Veitch  and  Sons,  Ltd.,  of  Chelsea, 
received  an  Award  of  Merit  in  April.  The  above  is  about  the  natural  size  of  the  flowers,  which 
are  rosy-purple.  The  leaves,  however,  become  considerably  larger.  The  plant  grows  ?  to  2^{t.  high. 
One  thir^,  howaver,  I’m  convinsed  about,  and  it  is  that  if  there 
is  anythin’  good  about  sparrers  it  ain’t  to  be  found  in  a  kitchen 
garden.  “  Nor  a  flower  garden  neether,”  puts  in  th’  missus, 
who’s  lookin’  over  my  slioulder  to  see  as  I  don’t  make  any  mis-  I 
takes  in  th’  spellin’,  and  see  th’  way  the  little  raskils  natter  my 
Krokuses  all  ta  peeoes,  and  peck  th’  Polyants  till  there  ain’t  a 
shred  on  ’em  left,  yer  needn’t  say  anythin’  about  sparrers  in  a 
kitchen  garden,  I’m  sure.  (You’ll  see  by  this,  Mr.  Editor,  as 
I’m  ritin’  under  sertain  diffykulties). 
To  resume  th’  story,  however,  if  Mr.  Sparrer  wos  put  into  th’ 
dock  to  answer  for  his  misdeeds.  I’m  afeerd  there  wouldn’t  be 
many  witne.sses  for  th’  defense,  not  from  th’  kitchen  garden,  at 
any  rate.  There’s  one  thing  about  ’im,  however,  that  I  can 
hardly  help  admirin’,  and  it’s  ’is  confounded  imperdence.  Where 
human  natur’  is  he’ll  be,  right  under  yer  very  nose,  and  up  to 
mischief  all  the  time.  They  call  him  a  ’ouse  sparrer,  and  near 
a  ’ouse  he’ll  be,  eksept  when  he’s  in  th’  garden,  and  then  he’s 
doin’  somethin’  a.s  he’s  no  bisness  to.  Perky !  why  there  ain’t 
a  pverkier  creetur  in  Krisendom  than  ’im,  and  he’s  never  so  good 
tempered  as  wen  he’s  up  to  his  tricks. 
I  ’ope  I’ve  bin  a  good  ’usband  and  father,  but  I  should  ha’  bin 
a  real  good  tempered  chap,  too,  if  it  hadn’t  a  bin  for  sparrers, 
and  that’s  the  truth.  A  kitchen  garden  man  will  understand 
my  case  if  nobody  else  does,  and  will  know  wot  the  f(^lin’  is  when 
you  go  to  ’ave  a  peep  at  yer  row  o’  first  early  Peas  just  a  cornin’ 
up,  and  find  every  partikle  o’  top  pecked  away  by  the  little 
browTi  scamp  as  won’t  be  sacked,  but  just  sits  on  th’  top  o’  th’ 
garden  wall  chirpin’  at  yer  while  yer  view  the  reck  o’  th’  Peas. 
Then  you  fuller  the  instrukshions  given  in  a  gardenin’  book,  and 
put  peaguards,  nets,  or  black  cotton  over  the  rows  (of  course,  you 
knew  about  doin’  all  this  afore  th’  gardenin’  book  was  printed, 
but  that  doesn’t  matter,  ’cos  if  books  is  printed  they  has  to  be 
sold  even  if  th’  matter  they  kontain  is  all  second-hand),  and  then 
Mr.  Sparrer  turns  his  attenshun  to  th’  Khrrant  and  Gooseberry 
bushes,  and  along  wd’  his  frend  th’  bullfinch  amuses  hisself  by 
peckin’  all  th’  buds  out,  so  as  to  upset  yer  fruit  kalkilations.  I 
expect  this  is  th’  revenge  he  takes  for  doin’  him  out  o’  the  Peas. 
Well,  you  f oiler  ’is  lordship  up  wi’  soot  and  lime,  shavins  and 
thread,  just  to  save  what  you  can  out  o’  th’  wreck  o’  th’  Currants 
and  Goo.seberries,  and  th’  sparrer  leaves  wot  there  is  remainin’ 
in  th’  best  o’  tempers.  Tb’  fact  is,  ’e  has  observed  yer  sewin’  yer 
greens  in  th’  seed  bed  under  th’  south  wall,  and  thinks  it’s  about 
time  they  were  ready  for 
operations.  If  th’  seedlings 
are  up  so  much  the  better,  but 
if  not,  Mr.  Sparrer  very  soon 
fetches  ’em  up — by  the  root^ 
and  you  find  ’em  with  their 
white,  fleshy  stems  strewn  all 
o’er  th’  bed.  More  fish  nettin’ 
will  save  wot  there  is  left  if 
you  put  it  ’igh  enough,  and 
there  ain’t  no  ’oles  in  it,  and 
in  th’  meantime  our  friend 
looks  about  for  summat  else  to 
occupy  ’is  time.  ’E  doesn’t 
forget  th’  things  in  th’  flower 
garden,  but  I’ve  nothin’  to  do 
wi’  them,  and  the  next  time 
w’e  come  to  loggerheads  is 
when  th’  Beetroot  is  nicely 
through  th’  ground.  Sparrers 
is  a  mark  on  Beet,  and  no  mi.s- 
take.  The  coloured  leaves  is 
like  a  red  rag  to  a  bull,  and 
they  go  for  ’em  wdth  a  ven¬ 
geance.  You  may  soot  and  lime 
and  shoot,  but  if  sparrers  once 
tackel  it,  yer  Beet’ll  go  sure  as 
fate,  and  yer  only  ’ope  is 
nettin’.  It  strikes  me  as 
kitchen  gardeners  w’ould  be 
very  badly  off  wi’out  fish 
netting.  If  you  can  mana.ge 
to  get  yer  Beet  inter  full  leaf 
wi’out  the  sparrers  devourin’ 
of  it,  you  may  rest  yerself 
fairly  contented,  beeos  they 
only  like  the  leaves  when  they 
are  young  and  tender.  Arter 
wanderin’  about,  peckin’  ’ere, 
and  peckin’  there,  they  begin 
to  think  it  wos  time  they  w’ere 
payin’  attenshun  to  the  Peas 
agen,  which  are  now  in  pod, 
and  take  my  word  for  it, 
sparrers  has  a  taste  for  green 
Peas,  speshully  Marrerfats, 
and  worry  ’em  they  wdll,  as 
long  as  they  lasts. 
These  are  a  few  charges  I 
has  to  bring  agen  the  brown-coated  little  chirper,  and  though  I 
ain’t  done  yet,  they  are  enough  to  be  goin’  on  with.  Now  for  ’is 
good  points ;  and  I’m  done  ’ere,  ’cos  I’ve  never  found  ’em  yet. 
Our  frend  stands  conwicted  then,  but  wot  are  you  goin’  to  do 
with  ’im?  You  can’t  transport  ’im,  ’cos  ’e  won’t  go,  and  the 
more  you  persekutes  the  closer  he  sticks.  Rob  his  nest,  ivhispers 
somebody.  Yes,  and  the  more  you  rob  the  more  Mrs.  Sparrer 
will  lay,  and  bring  up  a  brood  in  the  end  just  to  cheat  you.  You 
may  trap  and  shoot  as  much  as  you  like,  but  the  sparrer  reminds 
me  o’  that  theer  brook  o’  Mr.  Tennyson’s  :  — 
Men  may  come  and  men  may  go. 
But  I  go  on  for  ever. 
Some  has  a  theory  that  if  you’ll  treat  ’im  tvi’  kindness  ’e’ll 
show  ’is  gratitoode  by  leavin’  things  alone.  An  old  gent  as  I 
know  tried  this  plan  once,  and  fed  the  sparrers  reg’lar  wi’  bread 
and  water.  It  was  a  good  thing  for  th’  neebors,  for  th’  sparrers 
from  all  round  flocked  in  for  th’  free  meal,  and  while  they  w’ere 
waitin’  they  amused  themselves  by  peckin’  all  th’  fruit  bud.s  out, 
and  genrally  spilin’  other  things  as  took  their  fancy,  while  crops 
in  th’  neebors  gardens,  who  didn’t  feed  escaped  scot  free.  I’jn 
told  that  in  some  parts  they  has  sparrer  clubs,  and  in  th’  catchin’ 
season  so  much  apeece  is  paid  for  ’eads,  which  is  an  indoocement 
for  th’  youths  tO'  scour  th’  ricks  and  buildin’s  at  night  wi’  nets 
for  catchin’.  I  hear  that  they  ’as  plenty  o’  sparrers,  spite  o’  th’ 
clubs,  but  if  one  o’  those  theer  institootions  wos  started  in  this 
district  you’d  .see  my  name  figgerin’  on  th’  kermittee.  "Wi’  my 
nolidge  o’  scribin’  I  might  even  take  th’  sekratyship,  ’cos  I’ve 
got  a  gruj  agen  sparrers,  and  no  mistake. 
The  Power  of  Mushroom  Growth. 
A  few  weeks  ago  some  half-hardy  annuals  were  sow’n  in  a  frame 
cleared  of  winter  Violets  ;  the  lights  were  kept  closed  to  hasten 
germination.  In  a  few  days  signs  of  cracking  in  the  brickwork 
at  the  back  of  the  frame  were  observed,  and  gradually  a  block, 
weighing  in  the  aggregate  l^cwt,  was  pushed  out  of  position. 
Finally,  I  took  a  hammer  and  chisel,  and,  after  cutting  out 
several  bricks,  took  a  mass  of  Mushrooms,  weighing  31b  3oz,  from 
the  centre  of  the  wnll.  The  mycelium  had  run  freely  in  the  mortar, 
and  on  the  face  of  the  bricks  in  the  wall  was  as  thick  as  whip¬ 
cord.  Since  gathering  the  Mushrooms  from  the  wall  others  have 
come  up  in  large  clusters  in  the  frame,  heaving  up  the  soil  close 
to  the  wall. — Mark  Webster,  KeLej'  Park,  Beckenham. 
