October  30,  1902. 
JOURXAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDFXER. 
401 
and  Triomphe  de  Vienne.  The  soil  is  this  season  generally  in 
excellent  condition  for  planting,  and  no  time  in  the  whole 
year  is  more  suitable  for  carrying  out  such  work. — Warwick. 
Notes  on  the  Crops. 
Writing  at  the  middle  of  October,  one  thing  that  strikes  me 
is  the  intense  greenness  of  everything.  It  is  true  that  the 
Virginian  Creeper  on  the  wall  has  changed  to  a  rich  red  tint, 
and  the  Chestnuts  and  a  few  other  trees  have  assumed  their 
golden  mantles;  but,  as  a  rule,  the  changes,  as  yet,  are  slight. 
October  this  year  is  the  month  of  flowers  generally,  and  Roses 
in  particular.  According  to  every  established  rule,  the  queen 
is  at  her  best  in  June  and  July,  but  never  has  the  garden  been 
richer  in  Roses.  Nor  is  this  glorious  display  of  October  Rose 
blooms  confined  to  one  section,  for  while  the  Hybrid  Perpetuals 
and  Teas  in  the  garden  seem  to  be  contesting  with  each  other 
to  see  which  is  the  best,  the  old  Gloire  de  Dijon  on  the  house 
wall  is  bearing  a  full  second  crop  of  flowers,  and  this  morning 
(October  16)  I  cut  a  charming  Mareclial  Niel. 
Near  to  the  Roses  are  the  Dahlias,  and  in  some  places  Jack 
Frost  has  blackened  the  leaves.  Year  by  year  the  Dahlia 
seems  to  grow  more  popular.  We  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to 
the  raisers  of  Cactus  Dahlias,  but  too  much  is  thought  of  the 
flower  and  not  enough  of  the  habit  of  the  plant.  The  footstalks 
of  the  blooms  are  not  long  enough  or  strong  enough  to  support 
them  in  an  erect  position,  and  the  new  varieties  in  the  garden 
are  disappointing.  I  am  also  inclined  to  ask,  Do  new  Dahlias 
last?  Each  year  they  come  in  ever  increasing  numbers  to  win 
the  awards  from  the  committees  who  sit  in  judgment  over 
them.  Then  they  go  forth  to  the  world  and  the  gardens  of 
growers,  and  little  more  is  heard  of  them-,  because  next  year 
the  Dahlia  world  is  again  taken  up  with  the  novelties.  It 
■would  seem,  then,  that  new  Dahlias,  like  new  Chrysanthemums, 
are  not  lasting  institutions,  and  after  a  few  years  they  slip 
away  and  are  lost  in  insignificance. 
October  is  the  month  of  curiosities,  and  every  morning  almost 
the  daily  paper  has  odd  little  paragraphs  telling  about  some¬ 
one  picking  a  dish  of  Strawberries,  or  a  Pear  tree  bearing 
matured  fruit  and  blossoms  at  the  same  time.  The  gardeners 
are  used  to  the  oddities  of  Dame  Nature,  and  take  little  notice 
of  them ;  but  everybody  is  not,  and  if  a  little  precocious  Prim¬ 
rose  on  the  bank  sees  fit  to  bear  a  few  flowers  this  side  of 
Christmas,  sure  enough  some  person  sees  the  wonder  of  it.  and 
sends  forth  the  remarkable  piece  of  information  to  the  world 
through  the  medium  of  Fleet  Street. 
The  harvest  of  the  kitchen  garden  is  not  so  satisfactory  as 
we  should  like  it  to  be,  because  the  Potatoes  are  badly  blighted. 
Most  of  the  growers,  in  my  district  of  Kent  at  any  rate,  are 
hard  hit  by  the  disease,  and  forecasts  are  being  made  that  the 
precious  tubers  will  be  clear  before  the  winter  is  over.  During 
the  past  few  weeks  we  have  been  busy  lifting  the  late  crop,  and 
of  all  garden  operations  that  can  be  fascinating  or  disappoint¬ 
ing,  according  to  circumstances,  commend  me  to  Potato  digging. 
When  the  crop  is  good,  and  big  sound  tubers  roll  out  as  each 
root  is  lifted,  your  heart  goes  into  the  work;  it  ceases  to  be 
tiring,  and  backache  is  forgotten  in  the  intense  satisfaction  that 
prevails.  As  a  grower  you  feel  that  you  have  accomplished 
something,  and  that  a  share  of  the  credit  belongs  to1  yourself ; 
but  under  other  circumstances  all  is  different.  When  the  crop 
is  light  and  the  lifting  of  the  majority  of  the  roots  display 
three  or  four  tubers  something  bigger  than  marbles,  the  most 
cheerful  disposition  grows  despondent,  and  when  in  addition  to 
this  you  find  that  nearly  every  respectable  Potato  is  affected  by 
disease,  then  it  would  require  the  philosophy  of  a,  Mark  Tapley 
to  keep  cheerful,  and,  as  that  eminent  authority  would  put  it, 
there  would  be  some  credit  in  doing  it. 
The  blackest  mark,  however,  appears  against  Potatoes,  and 
we  have  sufficient  of  other  vegetables  to  stand  a  siege.  Onions 
are  good,  and  all  through  this  summer  I  have  never  seen  the 
trace  of  a  maggot,  which  says  something  for  the  season,  bad 
as  it  may  have  been  in  other  respects.  As  I  turn  my  thoughts 
from  the  Potatoes  and  survey  the  beds  of  Carrots,  Parsnips, 
and  Beet,  my  heart  grows  cheerful,  and,  wonder  of  wonders! 
wq  have  been  able  to  grow  Turnips  all  through  this  summer, 
without  continual  resource  to  lime,  soot,  paraffin,  and  other 
things  that  the  hard-backed  little  “  flea  ”  takes  so  little  notice 
of.  All  through  last  summer  Turnips  were  a  dead  letter,  but 
it  has  not  been  so  this  year,  and  in  a  healthy  looking  bed  now 
wre  have  a  large  stock  to  draw  upon.  Then  what  a  season  it  lias 
been  for  Peas,  both  early,  midseason,  and  late,  proving  beyond 
doubt  that  the  chief  requisite  of  the  Green  Pea  is  moisture. 
Scarlet  Runners  were  late  in  coming  in,  but  they  are  plentiful 
still,  and  will  be  till  frosts  make  their  appearance.  Celery 
has  grown  freely  from  the  outset,  and  clear  of  maggot.  We 
have  begun  to  dig,  and  the  hearts  are  of  that  sweet  nutty 
flavour  which  one  rarely  gets  when  the  plants  have  sustained 
checks. 
I  have  one  dismal  story  to  tell,  however,  and  it  relates  to 
outdoor  Tomatoes.  The  fact  is  the  season  has  not  suited  them ; 
the  days  have  been  too  dull,  arid  the  nights  too  cold.  None 
except  strong  early  planted  specimens  have  ripened  their  fruit 
outdoors,  and  for  the  most  part  the  green  fruits  have  hung  on 
the  plants  till  they  fell  prey  to  the  ravages  of  disease.  We  have 
been  taught  a  lesson  this  year,  to  the  effect  that  unless  Nature 
is  liberal  in  the  way  of  warmth  and  sunshine  Tomatoes  are  not 
an  outdoor  crop. 
Rain  has  been  the  grumble  of  most  people  during  the 
summer,  and  yet  at  the  middle  of  October  we  learn  from  the 
authorities  that  the  rainfall  has  been  less  than  the  average,  and 
people  are  crying  out  about  being  short  of  water.  The  fact  is 
we  have  not  had  a  real  wet  summer  for  so  long  that  we  have 
forgotten  what  they  are  like. — H. 
A  Corsican  Garden, 
In  many  ways  the  trite  proverbs  relating  to  Naples  and  Nikko 
might  with  much  aptitude  be  applied  to  that  lovely  garden 
town,  Ajaccio,  in  La  Belle  Corsica,  with  this  distinguishing 
difference,  however,  the  climate  is  far  finer  than  either.  Save 
for  perhaps  two  months  at  midsummer  the  remaining  ten  you  may 
bask  in  a  glorious  yet  refreshing  sunshine  among  fragrant 
flowers  and  shrubs  and  cooling  fruits.  Indeed,  such  are  ever 
present  the  entire  winter  through,  the  latest  Grapes  and  Figs 
joining  hands,  as  it  were,  with  the  golden  Apples  of  the  Hesperides, 
and  forming  an  elegant  and  becoming  ornament  not  only  on 
terraced  walks  and  cultivated  orchards,  but  right  throughout  the 
main  boulevards  of  this  mid-Mediterranean  palmy  “citta.” 
I  use  the  word  advisedly,  for,  though  French  by  government, 
the  natives  are  Italian  in  speech,  mien,  and  habit,  though  need¬ 
less  to  say  they  prefer  their  title  of  Corsican  to  either  other 
designation.  In  point  of  fact,  however,  they  are  partly  descended 
from  the  Genoese  settlers  and  partly  are  of  Arab  or  Berber  origin. 
They  possess,  too,  a  good  deal  of  the  dolce  far  niente  character 
of  the  Neapolitan,  the  male  element  at  least,  for  the.  women 
I  remarked  as  peculiarly  diligent,  meeting  them  of  an  afternoon 
returning  from  work  in  the  vineyards  and  Olive  yards  in  groups 
together,  walking  briskly  along  with  bundles  of  brushwood  upon 
their  heads,  while  those  having  “  their  daily  round  and  common 
task”  in  the  town  might  be  seen,  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
doing  their  washing  at  the  various  watercourses,  or  marching 
erect,  with  huge  water-pots  and  other  weights,  and  bearing  them¬ 
selves  with  the  gait  and  comeliness  of  the  superb  carriage  of 
the  women  of  Capri. 
The  almost  entire  absence  of  wind,  such  as  a  tramontane  or 
mistral,  and  a  total  immunity  from  dust  by  reason  of  the  nature 
of  the  soil,  is  not  only  a  great  boon  to  the  sojourner  at  Ajaccio, 
but  possibly  is  of  considerable  utility  in  producing  the  wealth 
of  luxuriance  which  obtains  in  the  vegetable  kingdom  there. 
Situate  on  the  hill  slopes,  neither  very  steep  nor  yet  on  any 
even  ground,  but  upon  graceful  undulating  inclines,  there  stands 
a  lovely  little  white  chateau,  framed  as  it  were  in  a  rich  setting 
of  varying  hues  of  green,  as  seen  from  the  vale  below.  Approach¬ 
ing  nearer,  the  direct  vista  reveals  mid  its  deep,  handsome, 
foliage  golden  balls  in  considerable  profusion  here  and  there  in 
different  directions.  Closer  still  will  be  discerned  their  definite 
positions,  as  also  on  the  outskirts  a  vineyard  here  and  there, 
and  glades  of  the  soft-toned  evergreen  Olive,  now  (at  the  time 
of  the  writer’s  visit)  in  course  of  having  its  small  black  produce 
garnered  in  for  its  annual  crop.  And  finally,  as  we  reach  the 
terraces,  our  close  gaze  is  brought  to  revel  in  garlands  of  twining 
Tea  Roses,  purple  and  red  flowering  creepers,  white  Periwinkle 
peeping  in  and  out  among  the  bushes,  and  the  exquisite  close¬ 
growing,  little  blood-coloured  bloom  which  appears  largely  in 
most  Corsican  gardens,  but  the  name  of  which  has  escaped  my 
memory.  Besides  much  that  took  the  fancy  I  was  a  good  deal 
impressed  by  the  varieties  of  Genista.  The  common  yellow  kind 
was  broadcast  over  hill  and  dale,  but  here  in  this  cultivated  oasis 
on  the  hillside  there  were  beautiful  kinds  of  a  white  and  scarlet 
colour.  Then,  too,  the  red  Aloe  in  full  bloom  was  very  handsome 
