The work of raising new varieties of raspberries goes on with considerable vigor. If we do not get one to suit everybody, we are likely to get so many that each one may find a variety that suits him. Since the days when Mr. Arnold began to try his skill on the production of new sorts of raspberries, and gave us his Yellow Canada and Orange King, the number of new sorts of raspberries that have been brought out is something wonderful. Since then we have had the Clark, which continues to be grown by many for market purposes on account of its bright color; the Herstine, which has a peculiar flavor, but is too soft to carry any distance; Mammoth Cluster, one of the most productive of the black-cap family; Brandywine, a rather small, firm berry that will carry well, but the plant suckers awfully; Highland Hardy, valuable because of its earliness; Turner, a vigorous western variety; Ganargua, a firm fruit that will carry well, but of a dull maroon color, and deficient in flavor; Saunders, a large and valuable fruit for the amateur, but the canes are too tender to endure this climate; Golden Thornless, a yellow variety of the black-cap family, very productive, and very lacking in flavor; Pride of the Hudson, too recently sent out to speak of its qualities; Philadelphia, very hardy, very productive, but not bright enough in color, nor firm enough, nor sufficiently high-flavored to give entire satisfaction; Diadem, another of Mr. Arnold’s seedlings which has been very widely distributed throughout Ontario, and of which we expect to hear very favorable accounts; Henrietta, claimed to be the largest, best, and most productive sort in the world, but as yet is in very few hands, and held at one dollar per plant; and others there is not space to name.

But it is not of these that we now propose to speak. We wish merely to make mention of a seedling raspberry growing on the grounds of A. M. Smith, of Drummondville. It cannot claim to be the largest in the world, but only somewhat larger than the Philadelphia, firmer in texture, and therefore likely to carry better, of nearly the same color, and somewhat better in flavor; the canes are very strong, the foliage broad and thick, and the plant apparently as hardy as the Philadelphia. With us hardiness is a very important quality, and we call the attention of our fruit growers to this new seedling, that they may watch its behaviour, and when opportunity offers give it a trial. Should it prove to have all the good qualities of the Philadelphia, with the addition of better flavor, larger size, and ability to endure carriage better, it will prove to be a valuable sort in our climate.

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An esteemed member of the Association, resident in the County of Carleton, writes: “I too am in trouble with my grape vines. Vegetation being very forward this spring, on the fifteenth of April, the day on which I received the Burnet grape vine, I uncovered my vines; by the fifteenth of May they had made much progress, when a severe frost cut them down. They were in some measure recovering from this when on the sixth of June another frost has again blackened them. The Salem, Delaware, and Canada appear to have suffered more than the Concord. I would ask, in a locality where such things are liable to occur, is it at all probable that any of the early flowering shrubs mentioned at page 52 would succeed?”

It is probable that the frosts were more severe in the County of Carleton than in the County of Lincoln, but the effect of the frost in the middle of May in these parts was much the same upon the grape vines here as described by our correspondent; the Delaware and the Rogers Hybrid suffering more than the Concord, but the Japan Quince, Plum-leaved Spirea, and Chinese Double-flowering Plum did not suffer at all, though the young shoots of the chestnut trees, and some of the maples and evergreens suffered severely. The young shoots of grape vines are very tender, and therefore very sensitive to frost, yet if the Concord in some degree escaped, we think that these shrubs would endure late frosts much better than any grape vine, and therefore we should not be by any means discouraged from giving them a trial on account of the danger of late spring frosts. It is however quite possible that they might suffer some from the very severe winter frosts, and would therefore advise that for a few winters they should be protected by driving into the ground branches of evergreens, so as to form a circular screen around each of the shrubs, sufficiently dense to afford them some shelter from the wind and sun until the starting of vegetation in the spring. After they have become firmly established they may be found to be sufficiently hardy to endure the winter of that section without any shelter.

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It has been the fashion among vine growers to prune their vines severely in the month of July, taking off cart-loads of leaves and branches. The reason given for this barbarous practice is that the grapes need exposure to the sun and air in order to ripen, and that this stripping off of the leaves and cutting away of the branches is necessary in order to let the sun-light fall upon the fruit and the air circulate freely among the clusters.

It is true that a grape vine may be allowed to produce too many branches and leaves for the fullest development of the fruit, and the proper time to guard against this is when the buds are starting into growth, by rubbing out all superfluous eyes or buds as they begin to push forth. But it is not true that the clusters of grapes require to be exposed to the sun’s rays in order that the fruit may be ripened. The following remarks by Dr. Lindley have a very direct bearing on this subject. He says, “If all the leaves which a tree will naturally form are exposed to favorable influences, and receive the light of a brilliant sun, all the fruit which such a plant may produce will ripen perfectly in a summer that is long enough. But if all the fruit which a healthy tree will show is allowed to set, and a large part of the leaves is abstracted, such fruit, be the summer what it may, will never ripen. The period of ripening in fruit will be accelerated by an abundant foliage, and retarded by a scanty foliage.” These general propositions he considered applicable to all cases, and particularly to the vine. If correct, then the severe summer pruning of the grape vine is wrong. “It is a mistake,” he adds, “to imagine that the sun must shine on the bunches of grapes in order to ripen them. Nature intended no such thing. On the contrary, it is evident that vines naturally bear their fruit in such a way as to screen it from the sun; and man is most unwise when he rashly interferes with this intention. What is wanted is the full exposure of the leaves to the sun; they will prepare the nutriment for the grape; they will feed it, and nurse it, and eventually rear it up into succulence and lusciousness.”

The truth is this, that the leaves prepare the nourishment for the grapes, without which they will never ripen, and unless there are sufficient leaves so situated as to their exposure to the sun and air that they can properly and abundantly supply this nourishment to the fruit, it will never perfectly ripen. What is required then is not to cut away the leaves and branches to let the sun-light in upon the grapes, but to so thin out the shoots in the spring that the foliage shall be well exposed to the full light of the sun, and if the whole crop of leaves is allowed to remain that is thus exposed to the sun, the preparation of the matter for the nutrition of the fruit will be more rapid, and hence the ripening of the fruit accelerated. Hence if the winter and spring pruning has been properly done there will be no necessity for any summer pruning whatever.

But there is a pruning or rather stopping of the shoots in September that is of benefit. On this subject Doctor Lindley says, “When, however, in autumn the branches are beginning to slacken in their power of lengthening, it is then right to stop the shoots by pinching off their ends, because after that season newly formed leaves have little time to do more than organize themselves, which must take place at the expense of matter forming in the other leaves. Autumn-stopping of the vine shoots is therefore not only unobjectionable, but advantageous, for the leaves which remain after that operation will then direct all their energy to the perfection of the grapes.”

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This is a favorite pear, of medium size, but of great excellence, ripening early in September. The tree is certainly as hardy as the Bartlett, and may be grown wherever that variety succeeds. It has an upright habit of growth, and is thrifty and healthy. It does not begin to bear fruit while young, but when it has reached maturity it bears large crops. The pears are hardly of medium size, of a rich deep-yellow color, with a very handsome crimson cheek, the flesh is melting, juicy, very sweet, with a very agreeable aromatic flavor, ranking in quality almost if not quite “best.” It is grown in the counties of Brant, Lambton, Lincoln, Middlesex, Ontario, Oxford, Waterloo, Wellington, Wentworth, and York, and very probably in some other counties that have not named it in their lists of pears.

This fruit is of American origin, having grown up in a hedge on the grounds of Jonathan Tyson, of Jenkintown, near Philadelphia, Penn. In 1794 Mr. Tyson removed it from the hedge and set it out, at which time it was about an inch in diameter. His son proposed to graft the tree with a variety known by the name of Catharine, but the father suggested that it might be a better kind, and in compliance with his wishes the tree remained untouched until it bore fruit, which proved to be so fine that in 1800 a number of trees were grafted with scions taken from this tree. The original tree was still standing within the village of Jenkintown in 1847, and then measured, at two feet from the ground, fully six feet in circumference.

We commend this variety to the attention of our readers, believing they will be pleased with its flavor, and find that anything that may be lacking in the size of the fruit is fully made up in the quality and flavor. We have noticed that the fruit does not drop easily from the tree, but will often hang until it decays on the branches, hence it will do to plant it in situations exposed to the sweep of strong winds. It is not sufficiently large and showy to be planted for market, it is for the grower’s own use, for those who value quality above size that it is recommended.

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This popular market apple has been in cultivation for at least a century. It originated in what was then known as Wilmington, in the county of Middlesex, State of Massachusetts, on the farm of Mr. Butters, who gave it the name of the Woodpecker apple, because it seemed to be a favorite with those birds, who used to frequent the tree and peck the fruit. From this tree grafts were taken, and the variety became known in that vicinity by the name given it by Mr. Butters, which, however, soon became shortened into Pecker Apple, under which name it was planted by the Vice President of the Massachusetts Horticultural Society, B. V. French, at Braintree, Mass., in 1818. At an early period of its history, about 1771, it came to the notice of Col. Baldwin, of Woburn, Mass., who introduced it to public attention, whence it received its present name of Baldwin. From this it has been extensively cultivated and widely diffused, so that to-day it is probably better known and more sought after by dealers in apples than any other variety. In the report of the American Pomological Society for 1877, it is double starred in more States than any other, and within the zone, where its profitable cultivation is possible, there are probably more trees planted of the Baldwin than of any two other kinds.

It cannot be successfully grown in all parts of Ontario, the severe cold of our higher latitudes being too great for the health of the tree. It is reported as doing well in the counties of Brant, Elgin, Haldimand, Halton, Lambton, Lincoln, Middlesex, Norfolk, Oxford, Peel, Waterloo, Welland, Wentworth, and York, and in parts of Grey, Huron, and Wellington.

The tree is naturally vigorous and productive, coming soon into bearing, and yielding every alternate year large crops of good sized, well-shaped, high colored fruit, which keeps well, and bears handling and carriage in a remarkable degree. In most markets, and especially in the European, high colored apples sell best, hence this variety has a preference over light colored sorts. It is ranked as “very good” in quality, and in this climate is in use from January to May.

We are credibly informed that the part of the farm belonging to Mr. Butters upon which the original Baldwin apple tree grew, subsequently passed into the hands of a gentleman eminent as an agriculturist and horticulturist, who took the pains to erect a suitable monument to the memory of this tree, upon the spot where it stood. And surely it is well thus to mark, that coming generations may remember the birth-place of an apple that has had such a history, that having stood the test of a century, is still a most popular and valuable fruit, that is sought after in the markets of the old world as well as the new, that has contributed so much to the comfort of the human race in so many lands and in so many climes, and that promises to continue its beneficent mission for centuries yet to come, gladdening alike the eye and heart of childhood and age.

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Good green peas are among the blessings of life to be enjoyed with thankfulness, thankfulness to the Giver of all good, and thankfulness to the man who invented them. From the bottom of the heart they are to be pitied whose only green peas are gathered from the field crop sown by the farmer for his swine, or such as are usually to be found in our markets and on our hotel tables. And he is a benefactor of his race who places it within the power of every owner of a town lot to grow nice, sweet, green peas. In the days when the world was young, and plenty of pea-brush was to be had for the asking, it was matter of little consequence whether our choice marrowfat peas climbed five or fifty feet, but as the world has grown older pea-brush has become scarce, and brushing the peas an operation that requires considerable outlay of time and ingenuity. Indeed so inconvenient has it become that tall growing peas have gone out of cultivation in many places, and men have wished that some good angel of mercy would bring us a wrinkled pea as sweet and rich as the Champion of England, whose aspirations did not reach so far skyward. And because the wish has been gratified, and we have seen with our eyes and tasted with our lips, and the heart has risen up to bless the inventor, we give to our readers the information that a man has been found, not an angel, but what is far better, a man, who by the use of the powers God has given him, has produced a pea which may be grown in any garden without any bushing, fully equalling in its sweetness and richness of flavor any of the tall growing Marrowfats. Not only may we rejoice in the fact that a man, by the exercise of his faculties, has been able to undertake to produce such a pea and succeed, but we have further occasion for rejoicing in the fact that he is one of ourselves, a citizen of our own land, and that this is but one of many benefits that he has conferred upon us and upon his race.

Bliss’ American Wonder is the name of this new pea, which was raised by Mr. Charles Arnold, of Paris, Ontario. With characteristic modesty the raiser allows the achievement to be ushered into the world by a name that gives no clue to the possessor of the genius and skill which produced this result; content, in quiet retirement, to bless mankind with the fruits of his toil, asking from them no meed of praise. We have found this new pea to be very dwarf in its habit of growth, a very abundant cropper, and possessing a sweetness and richness of flavor that we have not found in any other dwarf pea. Blue Peter, considered a very promising sort, is so much inferior to this in quality as to make comparison impossible. In point of height and productiveness there is not much difference. With such a pea to be had, there is no need of giving up their cultivation because it is too troublesome to bush the tall growing sorts, or because the dwarf varieties are deficient in flavor. If our readers will give this variety a trial, we feel confident that they will not willingly be without it ever after.

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BY A. M. SMITH, DRUMMONDVILLE.

The past season has been a very unfavorable one for judging the comparative merits of strawberries, the earlier varieties having been much injured by the frost, and the later ones not entirely escaped. The following is a list of varieties I have fruited this summer, and the time of ripening:

Smith’s Early, (a seedling of my own,) ripened June 1st. Specimens of this variety were nearly half grown when the frost came, which were of course destroyed, and only a few berries that were protected by the foliage escaped and ripened, consequently there was not half a crop. Nicanor, ripe June 3rd, very much injured, about half a crop. Wilson’s Albany ripened June 6th, about half a crop. Cumberland Triumph; this is a variety with very dense, heavy foliage, which protected the blossoms from frost, ripening with Wilson, and was the most productive berry I had; it is a large scarlet fruit, much resembling the New Dominion, only a little lighter in color, of fair quality, though a little too soft for shipping a great distance. Arnold’s No. 40 ripened about with the Wilson, a good sized, light colored, cocks-comb shaped berry, very good flavored, but soft. Charles Downing ripened 8th of June, a very light crop. Green Prolific ripened 10th of June; this being a variety of heavy foliage, it escaped the frost more than some others, was a fair crop. Lennig’s White ripened 10th June, a light crop of soft white berries, of very delicate flavor. Sterling ripened June 10th; this is a new, fair sized, dark, rich looking berry, very fine flavored, but few of them. Monarch of the West was ripe on the 12th of June; this is a large, productive berry, of very good flavor, and would be valuable but for the peculiarity of not ripening, or rather not perfecting its fruit, the tips of the berries being green. Great American ripened about the 12th of June; this I should regard as a very promising variety, berries large, of a dark-red color, good flavored, and productive. Col. Cheney ripened June 12th; this berry on my ground is a failure, it sets full, and I get a few large berries, but the majority are small, ragged things. Jucunda was ripe June 12th, very light crop. Triomph de Gand ripened June 12th, and was about half a crop. Late Cone ripe June 13; this is a beautiful, dark, cone-shaped berry, very fine flavored, and yielded a fair crop. The New Dominion ripened about the 14th of June, and though the blossoms were not apparently much injured by the frost, my crop was not up to its former productiveness on account of a kind of rust which affected both the foliage and fruit, though some parties within a few miles of me had magnificent crops of fine large berries. Kentucky ripened June 15th, as usual with me a light crop, of very good, late berries.

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For some reason, or probably without any reason, the quince has been a neglected fruit with us. True, in some parts of the province, indeed in a very large part, the climate is too severe for the successful cultivation of this tree, but there is yet a very considerable portion where it would flourish and bear fruit, and handsomely repay the cultivator. Our fruit growers are awake to the value of the apple, and many orchards have been planted which are yielding a very handsome return to their owners, and the same may be said of most of our fruits, but the quince seems to have been quite overlooked. Perhaps one reason why attention has not been turned to this fruit is the fact that those who have a few trees never give them any care, but leave them to grow as best they may, in some out of the way corner; and because under such circumstances they yield but little fruit, and that not of the best, it is taken for granted that it does not pay to grow them. Now, on the contrary, we believe that an orchard of quince trees, properly cultivated, will prove to be fully as profitable as an apple orchard of the same size, and that at the present time the demand for good quinces is in excess of the supply.

The quince thrives best on a strong clay loam, that is well drained, has been deeply plowed and is in a good state of cultivation. In preparing the soil for a plantation of quinces, it is very desirable that the sub-soil should be thoroughly broken up and loosened by the sub-soil plow, and the surface well pulverized. In this the trees may be planted ten feet apart each way, which will give four hundred and thirty trees to the acre. It surely is not necessary to tell the readers of the Canadian Horticulturist that the planting should be done with care, and after it is completed, each tree should be well mulched with a good thick covering of coarse, strawy manure. The space between the rows may be planted with potatoes, which will perhaps insure the tillage of the ground. In the autumn, fork in the manure that was placed around the trees as a mulch, and replace it with a fresh supply, this will not only protect the roots from severe frosts, but will fill the soil with food for the tree by the time that it starts into growth again. In the spring, plow the ground between the rows, not running so near to the quince trees as to injure the roots, stir the soil lightly around the trees; we say lightly, for the quince roots are comparatively small and fibrous, and might be seriously broken and injured by a too energetic use of the digging fork; and then sow the whole broadcast with salt, at the rate of ten bushels to the acre, which will be sufficient to half conceal the ground under each tree. Do not neglect to apply the salt, it is essential to your fullest success. Not only will the quince tree bear salt, but the tree will be more healthy, and yield more and better fruit than if it be withheld; indeed if any of our readers have quince trees that do not yield fruit, they will bring them at once into bearing if they will give them a dressing of salt and manure.

This treatment should be kept up from year to year, a top-dressing around each tree in the autumn, manure enough on the ground between the rows in spring to make it yield a good crop of potatoes or of some other root, and salt around the quince trees at least, and as they increase in size the salt should be extended over the whole, and it will be found to be beneficial to the root crops as well. When the quince trees have grown to such size that it is no longer profitable to grow roots among them, let not that prevent the quince orchard from receiving an abundant supply of manure and good tillage. A plantation treated in this way will begin to bear in three years, and will continue to yield profitable crops for ten times that length of time.

A word about the pruning. The trees do not require much pruning, but they should have the little they do need regularly every spring. They should not be allowed to grow in bush style, with shoots coming up from the ground, but should be trained as dwarf trees, with a clean stem or trunk. The head will need to be thinned out just sufficiently to give the foliage a good exposure to the sun and air, yet not so much as to leave the branches unshaded by the leaves. The twiggy shoots that have borne fruit the previous summer should be shortened back, so that new fruit-spurs may be produced from them, and thus the fruit be distributed uniformly over the whole tree.

We hope some one of our readers may be induced to undertake the cultivation of an acre of quince trees, and that he will communicate the results, keeping an account of all expenditure for trees, use of ground, fertilizers, cultivation, picking, and marketing the fruit, and of the amount received from sales, so that our readers may see his balance sheet.

As to varieties, we advise that only one be planted, and that the Orange Quince, sometimes called the Apple Quince. It is, when well grown, a large fruit, roundish or apple shaped, with a very short neck, of a beautiful golden yellow color when ripe, and of excellent flavor. If disposed to experiment with any other sort, try a dozen trees of Rea’s Mammoth Quince; it is usually larger than the Orange, but as far as we have tested it, not as productive.

Quinces are easily bruised, and the bruises sadly disfigure the fruit, they should therefore be gathered and handled with care, securely put up in small packages so that they cannot shake about in them, and the packages be easily handled. They are in good demand in all our large cities for culinary purposes, and could they be obtained in sufficient quantities would be much sought after by the large manufacturers of jellies from apples, for flavoring their products.

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BY ALLEN MOYER, JORDAN STATION.

Mammoth Cluster—for hardiness, size, and productiveness, deserves to be placed at the head of all the black raspberries.

Doolittle—this black variety I fruited for the first time this season, and judging from present prospects think it will be next to Mammoth Cluster, perhaps ahead of it in productiveness; it is some earlier.

Davison’s Thornless—A very good variety, not quite equal to Mammoth Cluster and Doolittle as a cropper, but sufficiently productive to give good satisfaction. If I were to consult my pickers as to which they thought the best variety, they, of course, would say the Thornless. This is also a black variety, ripening earlier than the Mammoth Cluster.

Lunn’s Everbearing—is one of those useless black sorts that I shall plant all I have of it so deep under the ground that they will never come up again.

Philadelphia—comes first among the red varieties for hardiness, productiveness, and profit, where quality is no great object. It is an enormous bearer.

Clarke—for flavor, size and productiveness this is the berry. I would hold on to this to the last.

Highland Hardy—this is the earliest of all raspberries, very hardy and productive, berries not as large as other varieties, quality good.

Read’s Prolific—the largest berry on my grounds. I have not tested it enough to say much about its hardiness and productiveness, although I have seen this variety heavily laden with fruit on the originator’s grounds.

Naomi—is something like the Clarke, no better in my estimation.

Amazon—flavor extra, plants not as hardy as the Clarke, and the berries are more apt to crumble.

Brandywine—this is the latest and best shipping berry, but is not one of my favorites.

Ganargua—fruited with me for the first time this season, it seems to be very productive, the berries were large, color between red and black, and quite firm. If the color and flavor should suit purchasers, it will no doubt be a profitable berry.

Catawissa—an odd berry and plant; this is about all I can say of it.

Golden Thornless—this was the first season of my fruiting it, and I suppose that I will not be much better off by fruiting it again, although it is exceedingly productive. If the flavor and color will suit the market, it may give good satisfaction. I am sure it will ship or dry well.

Were I to grow only four varieties, I would take the Mammoth Cluster and Doolittle for blacks, and the Philadelphia and Clarke for reds.

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In the American Agriculturist for August, E. P. Roe, of Cornwall-on-the-Hudson, New York, reports progress on these two new strawberries. He states that the Crescent Seedling originated with William Parmelee, New Haven, Connecticut, in 1870. Its two marked features as he has seen it in several localities, are a tendency to take entire possession of the ground, crowding out the weeds, and of literally covering the ground it grows on with fruit. Its lack of firmness, he thinks, will prove its chief fault. He saw it growing vigorously, and fruiting enormously on light soils, and in some instances other and leading varieties standing near it had proved utter failures. It has also done remarkably well on damp and heavy soil in his own grounds. In color it is a bright scarlet, and looks well in the basket. Like the Wilson, it is red before it is ripe, and in this immature state the flavor is poor, but greatly improves as the berry ripens. It has the appearance of being a pistillate, though it is claimed that it will bear alone. He noticed, however, that in a field of four acres some Wilson’s were planted at intervals, and advises that some of the perfect flowered varieties be set out near by. He finds it to ripen this season about with the Wilson.

The Forest Rose, he says, is a chance seedling, discovered by J. A. Fetters, of Lancaster, Ohio, in his vineyard, about seven years ago, and that it surpasses the other in flavor, beauty, and particularly in its shipping qualities, but that thus far it has not proved with him to be anything like so productive. In sending some thirty-six varieties to the Queen’s County Fair he found that it suffered the least from transportation of them all. He is growing it on three kinds of soil; the stiffest kind of clay, a light, moist soil, and a gravelly knoll, and it is doing well in each. Thus far with him the foliage has never rusted or burned. He expresses his hopes in regard to it, by saying that he planted it more largely than any other kind last spring. He quotes Dr. J. A. Warder, of Ohio, as saying of it, “here we have elegance of form, brilliancy in color, great size, and firmness to bear transportation, combined with table qualities of a higher order than in Wilson’s Albany, which it surpasses even in field culture.”

Mr. Roe concludes with the following judicious remark, “I may seem an old fogy when I say that while I shall give these plausible strangers plenty of room in which to prove their merits, I shall still stand by my old and tried friends in the strawberry field.”

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It is well known to cultivators of the Camellia that the venerable President of the American Pomological Society, the Hon. Marshall P. Wilder, achieved great success in the raising of new varieties, yielding double flowers, from seed hybridized by himself, and that many of the flowers raised by him were exquisite models of perfection of form. This marked success he attributes largely to three things, first, that in the selection of the seed-bearing parent he used hybrids, believing that every change effected by cross-fertilization is a remove from the normal form, and therefore more easily susceptible of continued mutations; second, that in the selection of the flower to be impregnated he had special reference to the strength and prominence of the style, the form of the corolla, and the perfection of its petals; and third, that he used only pollen taken from an anther which was supported by a petaloid stamen, that is, a stamen which had taken on the form, more or less, of a petal. He regarded this petaloid form of the stamen as the incipient stage towards a full petalous form, and that when he fertilized such flowers with this petaloid pollen, he was more likely to secure double seedlings, with petals more or less multiplied, and oftentimes perfectly double, than when the pollen was taken from anthers borne upon perfect stamens. And the larger and better developed the petaloid stamen was, that is, the more nearly the stamen had taken on the form of a petal, the better the chance for obtaining finely formed double flowers. His experiments led him to the conclusion that single or semi-double flowers with perfect corollas are more certain to produce flowers of a regular symmetrical formation, than those whose corollas have been irregular, with considerable variation in the size and form of the different petals; and likewise that when the style was feeble, distorted, or imperfectly developed, the results were likely to be very unsatisfactory.

As some of our readers are making experiments in the production of double flowers, we hope they will give us the results of their labors for publication.

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BY THOMAS HOOD.

Hood looks over the gate and compliments Mrs. Gardiner, a widow, who has but one idea, and that is her garden, about which she had the habit of talking in a singularly figurative style, upon the beauty of her carnations.

‘Yes, I have a stronger blow than any one in the place, and as to sweetness, nobody can come nigh me.’

Accepting the polite invitation I stepped in through the little wicket, and in another moment was rapturously sniffing at her stocks, and the flower with the sanguinary name. From the walls I turned off to a rose-bush, remarking that there was a very fine show of buds.

‘Yes, but I want sun to make me bust. You should have seen me last June, Sir, when I was in my full bloom. None of your wishy-washy pale sorts, (this was a fling at the white roses at the next door,) none of your Provincials, or pale pinks. There’s no maiden blushes about me; I’m the regular old red cabbage.’

And she was right, for after all that hearty, glowing, fragrant rose is the best of the species; the queen of flowers, with a ruddy em-bon-point, reminding one of the goddesses of Reubens.

‘And there’s my American Creeper. Miss Sharp pretends to creep, but Lor’ bless ye, afore she ever gets up to her first-floor window I shall be running all over the roof of the willa. You see I’m over the portico already.’

While this conversation was going on, a deaf bachelor neighbor, who has a garden of his own, passes by. Mrs. Gardiner hails him in a loud voice, and addresses him in her customary style.

‘Well, and how are you, Mr. Burrel, after them east winds?’

‘Very bad, very bad indeed,’ replied Mr. Burrel, thinking only of his rheumatics.

‘And so am I,’ said Mrs. Gardiner, remembering nothing but her blight; ‘I’m thinking of trying tobacco-water and a squiringe.’

‘Is that good for it?’ asked Mr. B., with a tone of doubt and surprise.

‘So they say; but you must mix it strong, and squirt it as hard as ever you can over your affected parts.’

‘What! my lower limbs?’

‘Yes, and your upper ones too. Wherever you are maggoty.’

‘Oh,’ grunted the old gentleman, ‘you mean vermin.’

‘As for me,’ bawled out Mrs. Gardiner, ‘I’m swarming. And Miss Sharp is wus than I am.’

‘The more’s the pity,’ said the old gentleman, ‘we shall have no apples and pears.’

‘No, not to signify. How’s your peaches?’

‘Why, they set kindly enough ma’am, but they all dropped off in the last frosty nights.’

‘Ah, it ain’t the frost,’ roared Mrs. G., ‘you have got down to the gravel; I know you have, you look so rusty and scrubby.’

‘I wish you good morning, ma’am,’ said the little old bachelor, turning very red in the face, and making rather a precipitate retreat; as who wouldn’t, thus attacked at once in his person and his peach trees?

‘To be sure, he was dreadful unproductive,’ the widow said, ‘but a good sort of body, and ten times pleasanter than the next door neighbor at number ten, who would keep coming over her wall, till she cut off his pumpkin.’

She now led me round the house to ‘her back,’ where she showed me her grass-plot, wishing she was greener, and asking if she ought not to have a roll. She next led me off to her vegetables, halting at last at her peas, some few rows of Blue Prussians, which she had probably obtained from Waterloo, they were so long in coming up.

‘Back’ard, ain’t I?’

‘Yes, rather.’

‘Wery, but Miss Sharp is back’arder than me; she’s hardly out of the ground yet, and please God, in another fortnight I shall want sticking.’

There was something so irresistibly comic in the last equivoque, that I was forced to slur over a laugh as a sneeze, and then continued to ask her if she had no assistance in her labors.

‘What, a gardener? never! I did once have a daily jobber, and he jobbed away all my dahlias; I declare I could have cried. But’s very hard to think you’re a valuable bulb, and when summer comes you’re nothing but a stick and label.’

‘Very provoking, indeed.’

‘Talk of transplanting; they do nothing else but transplant you from one house to another, till you don’t know where you are. There was I, thinking I was safe and sound in my own bed, and all the while I was in Mr. Jones’s. It is scandalous.’

This currant has been widely disseminated, and is doubtless to be found in every collection of currants, not only in this Province, but in the sister Provinces, and throughout the United States. Its large size and deep, rich color combine to give it a very attractive and showy appearance, so that it is a beautiful ornament upon the table, looking exceedingly nice and tempting; and in the market attracts the attention of purchasers, commanding a ready sale, and sometimes a higher price than the smaller sorts. Yet in point of quality it is not equal to the well known old Red Dutch, nor to the Victoria, being admittedly only second rate; and is another instance of a fact well known to dealers in fruit, that size and beauty of appearance are of more importance than flavor.

In the writer’s experience with this variety, grown upon a moist sandy loam, there has been a lack of that productiveness which has generally been accorded to it. Those who have grown it on a stronger and heavier soil have not seemed to find so much deficiency in this respect. At times, too, it has seemed as though it suffered from the severity of our climate, yet we have met with no complaints from others of this nature, hence we are disposed to the belief that it will be found to thrive best and be most productive on a strong clay soil. Those who find it to thrive well and produce abundantly may plant it liberally for market purposes.

The history of this handsome currant is not without interest. Mons. Adrienne Seneclause, a distinguished horticulturist of Bourgargental, Loire, France, received it from Italy among a lot of other currants, who noticed the extraordinary size of the fruit, and gave it in consequence the name it yet bears. In the year 1843 it was fruited in the nursery of the Museum of Natural History, and figured from these samples in the Annales de Flore et de Pomone for February, 1844. Doctor Wm. W. Valk, of Flushing, Long Island, State of New York, introduced it to the notice of American fruit growers in 1846, having imported some of the plants in the spring of that year.

Some years later a currant was introduced and disseminated under the name of Versailles or La Versailles, for which it was claimed that it was as large as the Cherry, longer in the bunch, and not so acid. Some pains was taken to obtain this variety on different occasions, and from the most reliable sources, so that there might be no mistake as to the correctness of the name, but after many years of trial we are unable to perceive any decided variation either in the quality of the fruit, the length of the bunch, or the habit of the plant, from the Cherry Currant.

A great many names have been given to this currant besides that of Versailles, and designing and dishonest men have taken the opportunity to use them to increase their sales and prices. If any of our readers should have offered to them plants of Red Imperial, La Caucase, Irish Grape, Macrocarpa, or Napoleon Red, they may rest assured that they are only the Cherry Currant under a new name.

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This beautiful Iris is now attracting very considerable attention. The editor of the American Agriculturist says that he saw a bed of these plants in the garden of James Hogg, of New York City, ten years ago, and that after they had stood there long enough to show that they were perfectly hardy, he gave an account of them in the October number for 1870, with an engraving, which though considerably reduced in size, was sufficient to show their great beauty, and how unlike they were to any heretofore known forms of cultivated Iris. He says they come into flower after the ordinary varieties have done blooming; and the flowers are spread out in a flat plate, so that they are best seen when looked down upon; that the flowers are from four to six inches in diameter, and present a great variety in form, color, and marking; there are pure whites, pure blues, and some of the richest imaginable royal purple. Also that in the markings there is the greatest imaginable variety; that nothing can be richer than some of the intense purples and blues, with lines of golden yellow; or more delicate than the whites, with net-work of blue and purple.

We noticed in the same number, American Agriculturist for August, a description of twenty of the finest varieties which Mr. Hogg has selected and named, and learn from it that some are double, some semi-double, and others we infer are single; one is blue, mottled and spotted with white, with a fine yellow eye; another is dark pink, pencilled with white; another white, pencilled with purplish stripes, and purple centre, and so on in great variety. Our enterprising florists will doubtless procure them, and soon advertize them, so that our readers will be able to give them a trial.

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Are we entering upon a new era of the gooseberry? There seems to be indications that a race is springing up on this continent, proof to that enemy the mildew, and that need not be ashamed even in the presence of the great gooseberries of the father land. The first step in this direction was taken by the Houghton, which originated with Abel Houghton, of Lynn, in the State of Massachusetts. Then came the Downing, a seedling of the Houghton, larger and better than its parent. Some time after, Smith’s Improved, another seedling of the Houghton, was sent out, also an improvement on the parent, but no better than the Downing.

At the last meeting of the Fruit Growers’ Association of Ontario, some fine looking gooseberries were exhibited by Chas. Scott, of Orangeville, larger than Downing or Smith’s Improved. The history of this variety is thus given by Mr. Scott: “A friend of mine received some gooseberry seed from England, and from it grew some plants from which I picked a berry, and from the seed of it raised about eight or nine plants, but destroyed all except the one from which these were gathered, as they did not seem to have any merit. It has never mildewed with me as yet, though I have grown it for about ten years. It is the only large gooseberry that I can grow free from mildew. I have Roaring Lion, Crownbob, Whitesmith, and others, but as yet have never got a berry from them, as they all mildew and rot off the bushes; and not only the berries but the new shoots are all mildewed this year. This variety is a vigorous, open grower, quite hardy and productive; soil, a sandy loam.”

At the same meeting, W. H. Read, of Port Dalhousie, exhibited a large number of seedling gooseberries, mostly of the English type, all of which, he stated, had so far proved perfectly free from mildew on a sandy loam soil. He also showed two varieties which manifested a large strain of native blood; these were fully double the size of the Downing, of much the same color, and judging from the branches exhibited, extremely productive. These also had been quite exempt from mildew.

In addition, we notice that E. P. Roe announces that he has discovered in an old garden in Newburgh, New York, two seedling gooseberries, one of which turns red when ripe, the other and later sort retains its beautiful green color until it drops from the bush, and that both of these are free from mildew. The berries, he says, are large, many specimens measuring three and a quarter by three and a half inches. To the first of these he has given the name of Roe’s Early Ruby, and the other he calls Roe’s Late Emerald, both of which he intends in due time to send out.

It will be a matter of considerable interest to watch the career of these gooseberries. Should they prove to be mildew proof in other places than these where they originated, and to bear abundant crops of large-sized fruit, a new era in the culture of the gooseberry will have been fairly inaugurated, and we may expect to go on multiplying varieties not subject to mildew, until there shall be no lack of gooseberries of fine size and of excellent quality.

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FROM THE PEN OF THE LATE A. J. DOWNING.

A fresh bouquet of mid-summer roses stands upon the table before us. The morning dew-drops hang, heavy as emeralds, upon branch and bud; soft and rich colors delight the eye with their lovely hues, and that rose-odor, which, every one feels, has not lost anything of its divine sweetness since the first day the flower bloomed in that heaven-garden of Eve, fills the air.

If there is any proof necessary that the rose has a diviner origin than all other flowers, it is easily found in the unvarying constancy of mankind to it for so many long centuries. Fashions there have been innumerable in ornaments of all sorts, from simple sea-shells worn by Nubian maidens, to costly diamonds, that heighten the charms of the proudest court beauties; silver, gold, precious stones, all have their season of favor, and then again sink into comparative neglect, but a simple rose has ever been and will ever be the favorite emblem and adornment of beauty.

Now the secret of this perpetual and undying charm about the rose is not to be found in its color; there are bright lilies, and gay tiger flowers, and dazzling air-plants, far more rich and vivid; it is not alone in fragrance, for there are violets and jasmines with “more passionate sighs of sweetness;” it is not in foliage, for there are laurels and magnolias with leaves of richer and more glossy green. Where then does this secret of the world’s six thousand years’ homage lie? In its being a type of infinity.

Of infinity! says our most innocent maiden reader, who loves roses without caring why, and who does not love infinity, because she does not understand it. Roses a type of infinity! says our theological reader, who has been in the habit of considering all flowers of the field, aye, and of the garden too, as emblems of the short-lived race of man. Yes, we have said it, the secret of the world’s devotion to the rose, of her being the queen of flowers by acclamation and forever, is that the rose is a type of infinity.

The rose is a type of infinity because there is no limit to the variety and beauty of the forms and colors which it assumes. From the wild rose, whose sweet, faint odor is wasted in the depths of the silent wood, or the Eglantine, whose wreaths of fresh sweet blossoms embroider even the dusty road sides, to that most perfect, full, rounded, and odorous flower that swells the heart of the florist as he beholds its richness and symmetry; what an innumerable range of shades, and forms, and colors. And indeed, with the hundreds and thousands of roses of modern times, we still know little of all the varied shapes which the plant has taken in by-gone days, and which have perished with the thousand other refinements and luxuries of the nations who cultivated and enjoyed them.

All this variety of form, so far from destroying the admiration of mankind for the rose, actually increases it. This very character of infinity in its beauty makes it the symbol and interpreter of the affections of all ranks, classes, and conditions of men. The poet, amid all the perfections of the parterre, still prefers the scent of the woods, and the air of freedom about the original blossom, and says,

The Cabbage Rose, that perfect emblem of healthful rural life, is the pride of the cottager; the daily China Rose, which cheats the window of the crowded city of its gloom, is the joy of the daughter of the humblest day laborer; the delicate and odorous Tea Rose, fated to be admired and to languish in the drawing room or the boudoir, wins its place in the affections of those of most cultivated and fastidious tastes; while the moss rose unites the admiration of all classes, coming in as it does with its last added charm to complete the circle of perfection.

Then there is the infinity of associations which float like rich incense about the rose, and that after all bind it most strongly to us, for they represent the accumulated wealth of joys and sorrows which has become so inseparably connected with it in the human heart.

seems to many, doubtless, to be a most extravagant apostrophe; yet if this single flower were to be struck out of existence, what a chasm in the language of the heart would be found without it. What would the poets do? They would find their finest emblem of female loveliness stolen away. Listen, for instance, to old Beaumont and Fletcher:

What would the lovers do? What tender confessions hitherto uttered by fair half-open buds and bouquets, more eloquent of passion than the Nouvelle Heloise, would have to be stammered forth in miserable clumsy words; how many doleful suits would be lost; how many bashful hearts would never venture; how many rash and reckless adventurers would be shipwrecked, if the tender and expressive language of the rose were all suddenly lost and blotted out. What could we place in the hands of childhood to mirror back its innocent expression so truly? What blossoms could bloom on the breast of the youthful beauty so typical of the infinity of hope, and sweet thoughts that lie folded up in her own heart, as fair young rose buds? What wreath could so lovingly encircle the head of the bride, as that of white roses, full of purity and grace? And, last of all, what blossoms, so expressive of human affections, could we find at the bier, to take the place of the rose? the rose, sacred to this purpose for so many ages, and with so many nations:

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This is one of the new aspirants for public attention, and as the readers of the Canadian Horticulturist desire to be informed with regard to the new things as well as the old, we shall put them in possession of what information we have in regard to this variety. Its origin is shrouded in darkness that can not be penetrated; no hybridist claims to have wedded its parents, and all that can be said of it is that it was found in an old garden in Newburgh, N. Y. “I ’spects I growed,” said Topsy, and that is the history of the origin of this new raspberry, it grew. So many varieties of raspberries were grown in this old garden that even guessing seems to be for once at fault. But no matter how it came into existence, especially since no one can ever tell, yet here it is, challenging the world to prove its worth. It claims, among other things, to be very hardy. It is five years old, and has passed through five winters without injury, though wholly unprotected. Hardiness is a very desirable quality in a plant that must stand out in our winters; we may take the pains to protect a few pets, but can not summon the patience to lay down and cover acres of raspberry canes. It pays well, we are told, to take this trouble, but we want a raspberry that will pay well without the trouble. It claims to be a most vigorous grower, and thus far to have thrown up suckers moderately. Raspberry canes that sucker immoderately are an immoderate nuisance. There’s the Brandywine, it suckers awful. It is well for this new-comer that so far it has not gone extensively into the suckering business, else it would soon be voted more trouble than profit. It has a long period of ripening, beginning to ripen about the first of July, and having yet on the 24th of July an abundance of green berries and blossom. This is very nice for the private garden, where one requires a quart or so of berries a day, and wants them to continue until blackberry time; but the market gardener does not want to be everlastingly travelling up and down the rows to pick the berries; he wants them to ripen up when their time comes, so that he may pick them and be done with it; he prefers to grow another variety that will come in with a crop afterwards, to being continually gleaning over the same bushes. To compensate in some measure for this, it promises to be a great bearer. On one short cane, three feet high, over six hundred berries were counted, and on a single branch, eighty-eight. Yes, that is considerable. But in growing fruit for market, it does not answer to apply the rule of three to the problem, if one cane, three feet high, will produce six hundred berries, how many will an acre of them produce. It is said “figures do not lie,” but they do though; if any one does not believe it, let him try to grow an acre of raspberries by the rule of three, and see how he will come out. However, this variety proposes to do better in this respect than many others, by reason of the great size of the berries; several were picked last summer that measured three inches in circumference. We all remember the amusing equivoque of the man who had gooseberries so large that many of them would weigh a pound; how many it took to weigh the pound he forgot to mention. But this is no equivocation, each berry measured three inches in circumference, not many it is true; and some of the canes yielded berries nearly every one of which would measure two and a half inches. And then in flavor it is thought to resemble closely that standard of raspberry excellence, Brinkle’s Orange; while the color is that bright-red so popular in the markets.

The plant has the habit of dropping its leaves early, like the Hudson River Antwerp, those at the tips of the canes remaining green, and continuing to grow until the advent of cold weather. It thrives best in northern exposures, and in cool, moist rich soils.

Chas. Downing, our greatest American authority on fruits, says of this berry, “I regard it as the largest, finest, best flavored, and most promising red raspberry that I have yet seen.” William Parry, the great small fruit raiser of New Jersey, says, “I consider it superior to any other raspberry that I have seen; plant a remarkably strong, vigorous grower; fruit of mammoth size, measuring from two and a half to three inches around; bright red color, firm, excellent quality, and very productive.”

Perhaps our readers would like to give this promising stranger a trial. It is not the custom of periodicals to advertise gratuitously; but as the object of this journal is to promote the dissemination of good fruit in our country, if any one wishes to procure plants of the Pride of the Hudson, they can get them from E. P. Roe, Cornwall-on-the-Hudson, Orange County, New York, the gentleman who first introduced it to public notice.

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Who does not welcome with a cheerful satisfaction the first crisp heads of lettuce that grace our tables in early spring? If any there be among our readers who do not feel like rubbing their hands in gleeful complacency as the tender, succulent leaves, nicely folded over each other in delicate whiteness, are placed before them, they had better pass this page by; it will have no interest for them. But those who know how to enjoy a good head of lettuce after the long winter, may derive some pleasure by reading on, even if they do not find anything instructive to them in this short chapter about a very common, plain, simple, vegetable.

Those who wish to have nice early lettuce will sow the seed in this month of September, not later than the middle of the month. Having selected a bit of ground that is thoroughly drained, and in good heart; it should be spaded and pulverized in the usual manner, so as to be light and porous, and perfectly friable, and the seed sown in drills. The extent of the sowing will depend upon the number of heads one wishes to winter over. In about a month the lettuce plants will be ready for transplanting into the beds in which they are to pass the winter.

The bed in which the plants are to pass the winter in this climate, is what gardeners term a cold frame. This bed should be of good, rich soil, well pulverized, located in some place sheltered—a spot sheltered by buildings, or tight board fence—from the cold, bleak winds of winter and early spring, yet exposed to the south, so that it may feel the first warm breath of the south wind, and enjoy all the sunlight as the days begin to lengthen. As a sash is usually about three feet wide and six long, a frame of boards should be set up on the bed by running two boards, set on edge, parallel to each other, and nearly three feet apart so that the sash may rest on them; and a board at the back ten or twelve inches wide, and another at the front seven or eight inches wide, to give the sash sufficient pitch to carry off the rain and catch to the best advantage the rays of the sun. These boards can be held in their places by nailing them to posts placed in the corners. In a sash of this size, five or six hundred lettuce plants can be safely wintered. That will be quite sufficient for the wants of a family of the average number; those who require more can increase the number of sashes.

The cold frame should be ready to receive the plants by the middle of October. By this time the lettuce plants will be ready for transplanting, and may be set in the frame two inches apart each way. Of course they will need a little attention to see that they do not suffer for want of water, or from weeds springing up among them. When winter approaches, they will need to be protected by covering with the sash at night, and when the weather becomes very cold it will some of the time be necessary to leave the sash on all day. The plants are sufficiently hardy, if properly treated, to endure twenty degrees of frost—that is, they will not perish if not exposed to a lower temperature than twelve degrees, Fahrenheit. But in order to enable them to endure that temperature safely, they should be abundantly aired on every mild day by lifting up the sash at the back, and keeping it tilted up while the weather will admit, and closing it only when necessary. On fine days the sash should be drawn off altogether, and the plants exposed as fully as possible, unless, indeed, the thermometer indicate too great a degree of cold. In this way the plants will be kept hardy and vigorous, able to endure the changes of temperature with no other covering than the sash, even though the thermometer outside the frame falls to zero. In those parts of the country where the cold is much below zero, it will be necessary to add a straw mat to the covering of sash.

When the spring has opened, and the ground become quite settled and in condition for working, a bed should be prepared and the lettuce plants transplanted into it about twenty inches apart each way. Some fifty of them may be allowed to remain in the frame at a suitable distance apart, and by covering them with the sash at night, and when the weather is cold, forced, so as to make fine heads very much sooner than those in the open ground. If one wishes, a few frames may be prepared in the fall, and filled with leaves or any coarse litter that will prevent the soil in them from freezing, and when the weather becomes mild in the early spring the litter can be taken out, the soil forked over and enriched, and about fifty lettuce plants transplanted into each of these frames, covered with sash, and forced so as to be fit for use by the time the remaining plants can be set out in the open ground.

The variety of lettuce that seems to give the best satisfaction for early spring, is the one found in our seed stores under the name of Gardeners’ Favorite. It not only forces well, making large, solid heads, but is exceedingly crisp and tender. For a late crop, we have found no variety that will stand the heat of summer better than Bruce’s Nonpareil; besides, it is very tender, and heads well.

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BY HIRAM BOND, MEAFORD.

Believing that it would be interesting to the numerous readers of the Canadian Horticulturist, I have taken some pains to ascertain the amount of plums and apples shipped from two of our towns, during the season of 1877, respectively, Meaford and Owen Sound. There was shipped from Meaford, 5,000 boxes of plums, and 3,000 barrels of apples; Owen Sound, 3,327 boxes of plums, and 1,579 barrels of apples.

Your readers will see by this that although this is but a new county we are not altogether behind in horticulture. And I might say that trees are coming into the county by the thousands every year, and we hope before long to be one of the first counties in the province for apples, plums, pears, cherries, grapes, &c., and in some localities peaches do well. Our prospects this year for apples and grapes are good, but plums, cherries, pears, &c., are light.

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There is a strange fascination about new things, and when a new fruit or new flower is heralded, with considerable flourish of trumpets, great is the desire to see and to possess the stranger. This is quite natural; we all love variety, and the advent of a new fruit produces a flutter of pleasurable excitement among pomologists, quite akin to that produced by some new discovery in the scientific world. But while it is well to be interested in the dissemination and testing of new fruits, it is not well to forget those that have been long and thoroughly tried, and have stood the test. Designing and unscrupulous persons have often availed themselves, and still do and will avail themselves of this love of novelty to sell at high prices fruit trees of some new sort that is not as valuable or profitable as many that might be purchased at a much more moderate cost. To-day it shall be our pleasure to call attention to two of our best summer apples—varieties that have been long tried and have proved themselves to be well worthy of a place in every fruit garden or orchard.

The Early Harvest is of American origin, according to the authorities, but the writer has never seen any account setting forth either the time or place of its nativity. It has been very widely disseminated, and in the last report of the American Pomological Society is recommended for cultivation in thirty-three of the States and Provinces represented in that Association, extending from Nova Scotia to Texas, and from Maine to California.

According to our observation, this variety produces the finest fruit when planted in soils that abound in lime and are thoroughly drained. In rich alluvial soils, and especially if imperfectly drained, the fruit is frequently spotted and cracked, and deficient in flavor. But on the other hand, when the soil is suitable, the fruit is perfectly developed, fair, smooth, and of high flavor. The tree is a moderate grower, comes into bearing early, and yields abundantly. The fruit is of medium size, light yellow with white flesh, juicy, and of a sprightly sub-acid flavor, ripening in the end of July and beginning of August. It is very valuable both for cooking and dessert, and worthy of a place in the smallest collection.

The Red Astracan was introduced into England from Sweden in 1816, and thence it has been brought to this continent, in no part of which is it more at home than in Canada. The tree is very hardy and will thrive vigorously in places where the Early Harvest would suffer from the cold. It receives the double star of great merit in Nova Scotia and Maine, Michigan and Wisconsin, and twenty-two other States, and that even as far south as Louisiana and Texas. It is reported as doing well in the Counties of Glengarry and Carleton, and may with safety be planted in very cold parts of our Province; yet we have heard of its failing to succeed in Arnprior, in the County of Renfrew.

It is one of our most handsome fruits, being of full medium size, of a dark crimson, covered with a light bloom. The flesh is white, crisp and juicy, of a rich acid flavor. It is an excellent cooking apple, and its showy color gives it great popularity in the markets. It begins to ripen before the middle of August, and continues to ripen its crop gradually, so that it lasts for some time.

These two varieties of summer apples may be safely recommended for general cultivation, and while the Red Astracan is the more hardy sort, and may be planted farther northward than the Early Harvest, yet the latter, on soils abounding in lime, is by no means a tender tree. Having these, the possessor may well be content on the score of early apples, and leave to others the pleasure, and the labor too, of testing new and untried substitutes.

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(Danais Archippus.)

The writer was recently examining one of the species of the milk-weed that is grown in our greenhouses, the Asclepias Curassavica, when to his surprise there were found several of the larvÆ of the Archippus Butterfly feeding upon the leaves. The plants had been taken from the greenhouse and plunged in a frame for the summer, and the female of this butterfly, in her wanderings about the grounds in search of milk-weed plants upon which to deposit her eggs, with a knowledge of botany far beyond that of many a gardener, had recognized this A. Curassavica as a species of milk-weed upon which the young larvÆ could comfortably feed.

It is very interesting to observe the habits of insects. They seem to be endowed with some faculties that are not given to animals of a higher order. By what powers of perception was this butterfly enabled to tell that this plant, which she had never seen before, that cannot endure our climate but must be kept in a warm greenhouse, belonged to that genus of plants which were the proper food of her young? We attain to such knowledge only by much study and comparison; she sailing past on careless wing, without having read the first lesson in botany, knows the foreigner to be a milk-weed, and stops to deposit her eggs upon it, that when the young larvÆ hatch out they may have suitable food at hand.

The eggs she lays are very small, conical objects, about the twenty-fifth part of an inch long, white at first, but in two or three days turning yellow, and then just before the time of hatching they become a dull grey. If one of these eggs is examined with a microscope it is seen to be covered with a beautiful net-work of raised lines, the longitudinal lines appearing like ribs joined together by cross lines, and coming together at the apex. The lower part of the egg, by which it adheres to one of the leaf-ribs on the under side of the leaf, is flattened, giving the egg the appearance of a truncated cone, or of one of those conical bullets, which are used in breech-loading rifles. If the reader will look at fig. 11, a, he will see a magnified representation of the egg, showing the longitudial ribs and cross lines; and at c, the egg of natural size, attached to the rib on the under side of the leaf, just as the butterfly places it.

In about a week after the butterfly has deposited the egg, there hatches from it a very small caterpillar, not more than the tenth of an inch long. It however grows very rapidly, and soon becomes too large for its jacket. But its jacket is very accommodating, and when the little fellow has got tired of it and wants a new one, the old one splits down the back, so that he can crawl out of it with a new jacket on, and looking as bright and gay as any new suit. And now it is a very pretty little creature, with transverse bands of black, yellow, and white, and a pair of black horns near the head, and another pair not quite so long near the other end. If it is examined with a microscope a few black hairs will be seen on each segment; these are shown at e and f in fig. 11.

The caterpillar seems to eat as though eating was the sole purpose of its life, and in consequence it increases in size very rapidly, so that it is obliged to crawl out of its skin twice more before it has attained its full size. This process of changing its coat is called moulting. Just before each moult it ceases to eat for a few hours, but as soon as that process is over, it falls-to again with greater voracity than ever. At each moult the black fleshy horns become longer. The new horns are nicely folded up under the skin, as can be seen at d, fig. 11, but soon grow straight after the old skin has been cast off.

If any of our readers, the younger readers especially, have a desire to begin the study of entomology, they will find this insect a very interesting subject with which to make a beginning. The writer can well remember his excursions to a neighboring field overgrown with milkweeds, when he had scarce attained to the dignity of pantaloons, in search of these beautiful larvÆ. These he gathered in considerable numbers, confined them in a box, and watched with delighted interest the various metamorphoses they underwent. Those who have never witnessed them, if they have any taste for the study, will be surprised and greatly gratified to watch the changes undergone in the progress from the egg to the butterfly. The creature is of such a size, and so beautiful in all its stages, that there is no difficulty in seeing it at all times, and each step adds some new feature of interest.

When the caterpillar has attained its full size it will be about an inch and three quarters in length, and will have the appearance shown in fig. 12. The markings are very distinct. Each segment has a transverse band of black in the centre, bordered on each side with white, with a yellow band between. After it has reached this stage of its life it ceases to eat, and presently begins to roam about in search of a suitable place to undergo its next change. And a wonderful change it is; instead of a hungry creeping creature, eating voraciously night and day, it is about to fasten itself to a spot from which it can not move, and pass into a condition in which it will have neither mouth to eat with, nor feet with which to walk. To all outward seeming it will have ceased to live; cold, and stiff, and motionless, it will manifest no sense of feeling whatever, nor any symptom of life.

Having found a place suitable for the metamorphose about to take place, which will always be the underside of some convenient support, the caterpillar proceeds to cover a considerable space, a diameter of three or four inches, with fine, white, silken threads, which it spins from its mouth, or from spinnarets placed at the mouth. These silken threads are laid on thicker and thicker towards the centre of the chosen spot, and at the centre a small pointed knob is raised of the same material. All this is done in order that the creature may suspend itself, head downwards, and hang securely by this silken knob without danger of being torn by its weight from its fastenings. Having completed all these arrangements, it proceeds to suspend itself by fastening the hooks on the pair of feet upon the last or anal segment into the silken knob, and when these are secured lets go its hold of the silken carpet with all the other feet and hangs suspended in mid-air, from the underside of some fence rail, or horizontal bar, or if in confinement, from the lid of the box or ceiling of the room.

What strange spell is upon the creature that it leaves its food, which a short time ago was all its desire, and travels off in search of some hidden retreat, some lonely nook? And why is it now travelling round and round within the circumference of a few inches upon the ceiling, laying down so carefully such a network of silken threads? Who has told it to lay them down increasing in thickness from the circumference to the centre? And now it has ceased to travel about, and has stationed itself with its head in the centre of its silken carpet; if you will watch it closely, you will see that it is yet spinning, and now and then it moves its head to the right and left, about as far as it can conveniently reach. As you look you see a little projection is being built up directly under its head, and that these motions to the right and left are made in the act of laying down some anchoring cables that shall fasten it securely to the web or carpet it has fastened upon the ceiling. What schoolmaster taught it that a cone is the strongest form in which it can arrange its gossamer threads? And who told it to go and hang itself thereby, suspended from its hindermost feet? Does it know the future that is before it; the life that lies beyond this gateway of seeming death? (Continued in next No.)

We have given this account of the history of this insect, not because it does any injury to our crops of fruit or grain, but because its history illustrates the metamorphoses of many other insects, and any who wish can easily rear it in confinement, and watch the changes it undergoes.

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It is a very commonly received idea that the sap of trees descends in autumn, and when the leaves fall, returns to the roots whence it came in the spring. It does not seem to have once occurred to those who accept this view of the matter, that there would be any difficulty in cramming a quart of water into a pint cup; perhaps, in order to accommodate the sap, the roots are supposed to be as large and capacious as the trunk and head of the tree; in short, that there is as much tree underground as above. Whence the idea sprang into existence that the sap retires to the roots on the approach of winter, it is not now possible to say, but its very general popular acceptation is an evidence of the way in which false views gain currency because some one ventures to make the assertion, and the public mind stops not even to weigh the probabilities, much less to investigate the ground upon which it rests. Surely the time has come when we should cease to accept assertions upon trust, and demand the facts on which they are based. Having these, we can consider the theory, and if it does not suit us we can make one for ourselves.

Now, in this matter of the sap, by which we mean all the fluids which are contained in the interior of a tree, the facts are these: if the trunk be cut in spring, the sap will run out; in summer, autumn, and winter it will not, except under exceptional circumstances. But nevertheless the sap is in motion in the summer and autumn, and winter too; nay, save when extreme cold may for a time interfere with its flow, it is always in motion; and the reason why it runs out of the trunk in the spring is because it is then present in much greater abundance than at any other season of the year. During the summer, when the tree is covered with foliage, the leaves are evaporating large quantities of the fluid parts of the tree into the air, while another portion is being elaborated and converted into the tissues and structure of the tree, producing what we call growth. When the autumn has come, what with the evaporation and solidification that has taken place, the interior of the tree has become comparatively dry, so that the quantity of sap has become so greatly diminished that it no longer exudes when an incision is made. Our readers are, at least many of them, aware that if a branch be cut off from a grape vine in spring when the buds are starting, the sap will run out quite freely, producing what is called bleeding; but if the same branch were allowed to remain until the leaves on the vine have became fully expanded, then if it be cut off no bleeding will take place. The reason is, that the evaporation which is taking place in the leaves has exhausted the supply of sap to such an extent that there is no surplus in the vine to escape in that way.

The leaves being the principal organs of assimilation and perspiration, it follows that when they have fallen off there is no longer much loss of fluid to the tree from these causes. But the power of the roots to absorb moisture from the earth is not diminished by the loss of the leaves; they continue to draw fluid from the earth, and to send it up into the tree. This action continues, except as modified by extreme cold, all winter; the fluids are drawn from the soil by the roots and sent into the tree, and by the time that spring has come the tree is full of fluids and every vessel distended with sap. During the winter we are not able to find sap by cutting the tree, because the process of filling with fluid is gradual.

M. Biot, many years ago, made some very interesting experiments on the flow of sap, and made a contrivance by which the rate of motion could be measured at any season, and showed that there was considerable activity even in winter. He found that the direction in which the sap moved was very considerably affected by frost. When the weather was mild the sap was always ascending; but when it was freezing weather the sap flowed down. This he attributed to the contraction of the sap-vessels by the cold, which forced the sap into the larger vessels which were unaffected by the frost under ground. When, however, the frost was sufficiently severe and continued to reach the roots, then the sap was forced back into the trunk; but when it came on to thaw and the frost left the ground, the sap returned to the roots. Thus we see that, as a rule, the sap is always ascending, and that when it descends it is because it is forced to do so by some temporary cause, and when that cause ceases to act the sap immediately begins to ascend again.

In connection with the supposed ascent of the sap in spring, and growing out of it, is the popular idea that this ascent of the sap is the cause of the expansion of the buds and leaves. It would be nearer the truth to say that the expansion of the buds and leaves was the cause of the motion of the sap. Any of our readers can make the following experiment for themselves, and see the true state of the case. If a tree be cut into or tapped in some of the upright branches near the top very early in the spring, and be again tapped just below the branches on the trunk, and again just above the surface of the ground, it will be found that the sap will flow from the wound that is nearest to the top first, from the one just below the branches next, and last of all from the one near the ground. The reason for this is, that the light and warmth tell first upon the excitable buds at the extremities of the tree, and therefore the sap is set into an accelerated motion that lies nearest to them. The gentleman who first made this discovery came to the conclusion that in the spring the sap of trees descended instead of ascending, but he forgot that the moment the buds begin to expand they draw the sap from the parts nearest to them; this causes the sap just beyond to push upwards to supply the place of that taken up by the buds, and as the buds increase and expand is this absorption increased, and the circle of motion enlarged from the buds downwards.

Were it not true that the sap is constantly ascending, we should lose all our evergreens during the very first winter, for the evaporation that goes on in winter from their leaves would soon season the wood of the tree were it not made good from the roots below; and hence it is that some evergreens are killed by a severe winter while they are small, which would survive without injury had they attained to a greater size; for, being small, the roots have not penetrated to sufficient depth to reach below the frozen ground, and consequently can not draw from the frozen earth in sufficient quantity, nor with sufficient rapidity, to supply the waste by evaporation; whereas when larger the roots will have penetrated quite below the reach of frost, and will be able to draw from the soil sufficient moisture to supply the loss.

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Messrs. John A. Bruce & Co., seedsmen, of Hamilton, give considerable attention to the testing of the different varieties of vegetables, and after thorough trial find in their experience that Hubbard’s Improved Curled Leaf is the earliest. It is small compared with many of the later sorts, and the plant is of a dwarf habit. Next to this they place the Early Conqueror, which is of good size, and very uniform in shape. Then the General Grant, a firm fleshed, bright crimson, productive variety, for the main crop; and after it the Trophy, for a later variety, one of the largest and best flavored of them all. These four sorts, ripening in the order named, they consider the best market sorts. We have found the General Grant very productive, and to ripen its fruit rapidly after it once begins to come in.

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It is gratifying to learn that our sister Province of Quebec has succeeded in organizing a provincial association similar to our own, and standing in a similar relation to the government. It has a double existence, arising from its union with the Montreal Horticultural Society, and, as that society, it holds an annual exhibition in the City of Montreal, with a city membership paying an annual fee of two dollars, while, as the Fruit Growers’ Association, it publishes an annual report, as an appendix to the provincial agricultural report, and charges the rural members one dollar per year.

Will it seem boastful to say that, from the experience of what has been done in Ontario, we are confident a career of great usefulness is opening up before our sister society; that a vast amount of useful information locked up in individual experiences will now be brought out, and made the common stock of all; that many valuable seedling fruits will be brought from their modest retirement and disseminated, to enrich the orchards and gardens of the whole Province; that a medium of communication will be established between all the fruit growers, that will make them to know and esteem each other, and stimulate to harmonious efforts for the advancement of pomology; and that an increased impetus will be given to the cultivation of fruits, to the originating of new and valuable varieties, and the diffusion of information on all matters involved in the growing of superior fruit.

There is no department of the work accomplished by these associations more productive of benefit to all, than the meetings for discussion of topics in which all have an interest. By means of these discussions, the experiences of many practical cultivators are brought together, and whether they are experiences of success or failure, they throw light on the subject, and serve either as beacon lights to give warning of the danger, or as finger posts to guide into the best and safest way. Many have been saved the trouble and vexation of testing worthless varieties, the experience of one being made the experience of all. Again, when a fruit has proved itself valuable in the hands of one cultivator, there is reason to believe that it will also be valuable in the hands of many.

These meetings for discussion will be the more interesting and valuable the more those who attend them accurately observe the facts that come within the range of their individual observations and experiences, and come to the meetings prepared to impart what they have gathered. We remember hearing a very successful grower of grapes say, when asked about the cultivation of them, that he did not know anything about growing grapes. The trouble with him was that he supposed that everyone knew all that he did on the subject, and merely meant that he had no special method peculiar to himself. He was far too modest; experience had taught him much that others did not know, and it is the giving out of this experience from all that increases the knowledge of all.

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Those readers of the Canadian Horticulturist who are best acquainted with this apple, will fully corroborate anything that can be said in its praise. It derives its name from the place of its birth, Gravenstein, in Holstein, Germany, and has the reputation of being one of the best apples of Northern Europe. The reputation it enjoys there has been fully maintained by it in America, and here it ranks as one of our very best and most valuable October apples. It has been widely disseminated throughout the Dominion, and is highly esteemed. The trees thrive well in Nova Scotia, and certainly in a large part of Ontario, having been reported as bearing fruit in the county of Renfrew. They are of an upright habit, stout bodied, and form large, spreading heads; come into bearing early, and are very productive.

The fruit is of large size, and when ripe is of a bright-yellow color, most beautifully striped and splashed with various shades of red and orange. The flesh is tender, crisp, and juicy, with a high aromatic flavor; in quality ranking “best.” It is excellent as a cooking apple, and as valuable for the dessert, pleasing to the eye by reason of its beauty, and delighting the palate with its exquisite flavor. In the markets it always commands the highest price of any of its season, and on that account may be profitably grown in limited quantity for a convenient market.

It is not desirable to multiply fall-ripening varieties of apples, indeed we already have too many of them for profit. The wise plan will be to select two or three of the very best, and plant enough of these to meet the demand. A very few kinds will meet the wants of the family, and fewer yet will be enough for market. It is a great mistake, but one that is very often made, that of planting out a great many varieties of apples. The experience of all who have grown fruit for profit coincides in this, at least, that a large quantity of only one variety of saleable apples is much more remunerative than the same quantity made up of a great number of kinds.

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The usual autumn meeting was held in the Town Hall, at Sarnia, on Wednesday, the eleventh day of September, 1878. President Burnet being absent at the New York State Fair, the Secretary called the meeting to order, which was duly organized by choosing Chas. Arnold, of Paris, chairman. After the reading of the minutes, Messrs. Ebenezer Watson, George Mill, and Townsend G. Vidal were appointed a committee to examine and report upon the seedling fruits exhibited; and Messrs. Joshua Adams, Hugh Smith, and Chas. Duncan, a committee to prepare subjects for discussion. While the latter committee were considering their report, the meeting proceeded to the discussion of pear culture and pear blight.

W. Mowbray grew pear trees in clay soil, in what used to be a garden, but was now in grass, he had not seen any blight, but some varieties winter killed; had found the Flemish Beauty the most hardy. E. Watson had succeeded in getting some very fine pears, but the blight has always destroyed his trees. Near the water the crop of fruit this year is good, but on farms away from the lake shore, the late frosts injured it very much. James Watson had not suffered much from pear blight until lately. His trees are growing in clay soil on the bank of a creek, in the Township of Moore. Bartlett is too tender, Beurre d’Anjou has stood the winters, Doyenne d’Ete, and Beurre Clairgeau stand well, Clapp’s Favorite does well, is hardy and good, Flemish Beauty has not suffered in any way. Thought he had greatly benefitted some of his pear trees which showed blighted spots on the trunk, by wrapping over them a mixture of clay, sulphur, and lime. Charles Duncan said that Flemish Beauty and Clapp’s Favorite promise to be hardy, and suited to the climate of his section, Township of Moore, and that there had been no blight on these varieties with him. Had found leached ashes very beneficial to fruit trees. Thos. Watson, of Sarnia, had found Flemish Beauty and Clapp’s Favorite, and indeed all sorts of pears, to lose their leaves, they would spot and curl up. Joshua Payne said that Flemish Beauty does well, though some of the trees blight, the Bartlett does well, also the Seckel, Clapp’s Favorite, and Beurre Clairgeau. Thinks the pear trees do better without cultivation, but spreads a little manure occasionally on the surface of the ground around the trees, which acts as a mulch, and keeps the ground from cracking in drouth. Thomas Watson said that he used saw-dust and chips as a mulch, and found that his trees were infested with the borer, and asked if this mulch was the cause of the attacks of the borer. W. Saunders replied that it was not the cause, and that if an alkaline wash were applied to the trees it would prevent the borer from attacking them, it would prevent the beetle from laying its eggs, or kill them if laid. That it would not kill the borers however if they have got into the tree. E. Watson had never mulched his trees with saw-dust or chips, but had plenty of borers. Jas. Dougall, of Windsor, was asked in regard to Eliot’s Early Pear, and replied that it was larger than Doyenne d’Ete, a week earlier, and superior in quality. The tree is a strong grower, and very hardy.

The committee on subjects suggested for discussion the question, what varieties of fruit are successfully cultivated along the shore of lake Huron and the river St. Clair; and how far has the fruit crop in that district been injured by the spring frosts this year? Thos. C. Wheatley, residing near the lake in the Township of Sarnia, said that he had grown only apples and peaches. Of the summer apples, he grew Early Harvest and Red Astracan, the latter had proved the most profitable. The Porter yields well, but is not so marketable as a red apple; he wants a good red apple, ripening after the Red Astracan, for market purposes; has just planted the Benoni to see how that would answer. Rhode Island Greening fruits abundantly, has a good reputation, and is inquired for by purchasers. The Baldwin is not so even in size, and hence not as profitable. Cayuga Red Streak bears when young and abundantly, but the fruit is too large, prefer to handle smaller apples. The Spitzenburg spots and cracks badly on my sandy soil. Pewaukee has just fruited with me. Have planted largely of Early Crawford, but have not found them to be good bearers, they never have given me more than a quarter of a crop. Hale’s Early has done very well with me; at first it did not, but as the trees grew older the fruit rotted, yet I found it more profitable than the Crawfords. Late Crawford generally ripens, but it is not much more prolific than Early Crawford. Serrate Early York does well, but the Large Early York is unproductive. Am pleased with the Amsden; and old Mixon succeeds well, it is large, attractive, and profitable. The frost did very little injury to large fruits in my vicinity, but the strawberry crop was seriously hurt. Raspberries were a fine crop. Peaches were not hurt by the May frost, though we had from two to five degrees of frost. D. Nesbit, of Plympton Township, stated that peaches frequently winter-kill at his place, which is five miles from the lake shore. The seedling peaches were not injured by the late frost, but it seriously injured all the grape vines. With the exception of the Oswego Beurre, which has a good crop, my pear trees have no fruit this year. My soil is clay with a mixture of gravel. James Watson has found that in his stiff clay soil the peach trees do not stand the winter, but die out. James Johnson, of Bosanquet, remarked that on the lake shore apples do well, there being no summer frosts to hurt; this year there is a good crop along the lake for a strip about a mile in width, but further back the frost of last May has seriously injured the fruit. Have found the Old Mixon Peach more hardy than Hale’s Early or the Early Crawford. The Concord, Adirondac, Salem, and Isabella grapes ripen well. Plums do well if the trees are jarred and the Curculio destroyed. John Carr, Sarnia Township, says he can not grow peaches well, they winter-kill. Pear and cherry trees do well. Plums rot badly. Have a good crop of apples this year. James Dougall, of Windsor, advised that the rotting plums be gathered as fast as they appear, and taken away from the vicinity of the trees, so as to prevent the rot from spreading. T. D. Watson, Sarnia Township, found all the cultivated peach trees to die down to the ground. The Sweet Cherry trees and the Maydukes did not bear any fruit, did not blossom, though the trees grew well. Seedling peach trees grew and bore fruit. Is too far from the lake to feel the beneficial effects of the water, the late spring frosts this year having killed the fruit in his neighborhood, while close to the lake and river there was a good crop. James Watson, Moore Township, said that cherry trees, even the Mayduke and Kentish, will not thrive on the clay soil with us, but on the sandy soil they do well; and Charles Duncan added, that we are very subject to summer frosts, which usually injure all our fruit crops. Hugh Smith, of Sarnia, remarked that in that vicinity, what was usually called the Kentish Cherry grew freely from suckers, was hardy and productive.

Inquiry was made concerning the borer in the peach tree, but it did not seem to prevail to any serious extent in that vicinity. W. McK. Ross, of Chatham, complained that it was very bad there, and that he had suffered severely from them. He had also found a snapping or click beetle, brown, and about half an inch long, laying eggs in crevices of the bark near the collar of his peach trees. W. Saunders, London, replied that the larvÆ of the click beetles do not bore into living trees, hence no danger was to be apprehended to the peach trees from this source. The Ægeria Exitiosa, which bores our peach trees, looks very like a slender wasp, with a steel-blue body, and in the female the abdomen is marked with a broad orange-colored belt. She lays her eggs upon the tree at the collar, which hatch out and bore into the soft bark at the surface of the ground. Driving nails into peach trees has no effect upon the borer, nor will boring holes into plum trees and filling them with sulphur have any tendency to keep away the Curculio. John Bartlett, Warwick, inquired about the Utah Hybrid Cherry; to which James Dougall, of Windsor, replied that it is not a cherry, it is more nearly allied to the plum, it is only a small bush, and the fruit is worthless.

On the best remedy for the Curculio, the weight of opinion seemed to be that, while in a small yard of plum trees chickens might answer a very good purpose, in larger orchards the best, most convenient, most expeditious, and least troublesome method, was that of jarring the trees and catching the Curculio on a cotton sheet.

Hugh Smith, Sarnia, illustrated his method of changing dwarf trees to standards, by planting a seedling at the foot of the tree, and inserting the top under the bark, thus forming a connection between the tree and the earth through the young seedling.

It being asked what kinds of trees were best suited for shelter, Messrs. Arnold, Beadle, Saunders, and Dougall mentioned the Norway Spruce as being one of the most desirable, it being easily transplanted, particularly when small, thriving in all soils, very hardy, a good grower, retaining its branches to the ground, and capable of being cut and trimmed in any desired manner. W. McK. Ross mentioned the Arbor VitÆ and the Scotch and Austrian Pines. John Bartlett had found the English Thorn to make an excellent hedge.

The scraping of the bark of apple trees was thought by James Dougall to be injurious, but an alkaline wash beneficial, such as thin soft soap, which he thought better than lime. T. C. Wheatley thought that healthy trees did not need scraping, the rough bark would drop off. W. Saunders thought the scraping off of the rough bark was useful, because by that means so many insects were dislodged and killed, especially the larvÆ and cocoons of the Codlin Moth, while the tree, he thought, was not injured by taking it off.

Conflicting opinions were expressed concerning the Robin, Cedar Bird, Red-Headed Woodpecker, and Baltimore Oriole, which have a bad habit of eating cherries, ripe apples, pears, and grapes; some feeling it to be a great hardship that they are prohibited by law from shooting them even on their own premises.

There was a fine display of fruits and flowers, by the Sarnia Horticultural Society, in the hall just above the room in which the meeting was held. Among the apples were very fine samples of Alexander, Gravenstein, St. Lawrence, Porter, and other well known sorts, besides many that seemed to be peculiar to this section of country. In pears, the Flemish Beauty seemed to be the general favorite, judging from the number of dishes of this variety. The peaches were very fine showy samples. Plums were not as abundant as we expected to see them, but the samples were good. There were some very good bunches of Concord, Delaware, and other grapes. We noticed a plate of black grapes labeled “Seneca,” but not having an opportunity of tasting them, can not say whether they were the same as the Hartford Prolific, as Downing seems to think, or not. The flowers were a very attractive feature. Some pots of dwarf bouquet Asters attracted much attention, from their uniquely beautiful appearance. The Dahlias were very fine, both in form and coloring. The Double Geraniums, Jewel, Marie Lemoine, and Andrew Henderson were remarkably well grown and in fine feather. A few well grown plants of Happy Thought were very much admired. The collection of Begonias, both of the Flowering and Rex sections, was very attractive. Among the Coleus were some showy specimens of the Shah and Cameleon, which set off the tables to good advantage.

The collection of fruit shown by James Dougall, of Windsor, was a marked feature of the exhibit. He displayed thirty-five varieties of French apples, grown on imported trees, besides his collection of American apples, pears, and plums, of which some were seedlings of his own raising, and all of which were remarkably well grown. His Belle Lucrative, Kingsessing, and Oswego Beurre pears were perfect models of size and beauty.

The committee on seedling fruits brought in their report, which was received and referred. The report says of a seedling summer apple sent by Seth C. Wilson, of Whitby, though now past its season, that it is quite equal to the Early Harvest, and for the table superior; and that a Crab marked 260, raised by Townsend G. Vidal, Esq., of Sarnia, is fine, large, and handsome, and highly commended.

After passing a vote of thanks to the mayor and council of Sarnia for the use of their very commodious council chamber, and many expressions of thanks to the Sarnia members for their kind attentions and interest in the success of the Association, the meeting adjourned.

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And still they come. How wonderfully prolific nature is, to be sure. Our readers will have hardly recovered from the effects of the account of that wonderful berry, the Pride of the Hudson, and taken a long breath after its perusal, and now, in the very next number, they are asked to read the story over again under a new heading. When raspberries take a notion to astonish the world, it is surprising what very wonderful feats they can perform. It seems as though there was a rivalry springing up in this matter between the States in the great republic on our southern border. New York has hardly inscribed on her banner, Pride of the Hudson, and nailed it to the mast, than staid old Connecticut, that land of steady habits, seems stirred to her very depths, and in the spirit of Heine, seized Norway’s tallest fir, and dipping it in Ætna’s crater, with the flaming brand writes on the forehead of the sky, “Henrietta.”

This Henrietta is a wonderful creature, she too was never made, she “growed.” A chance seedling in the garden among the currant bushes sprang up in 1871. In 1873 this foundling performed such prodigies in the way of size of fruit and abundance of it, that it was taken in and cared for. Under improved treatment it improved, gratefully acknowledging the kind care it had received, and developed so many valuable qualities that it has been thought worthy of a name and an introduction to the public, both the fruit growing public, and that larger but less critical body public, the fruges consumere nati. We believe her foster parents held the levee in her honor sometime in the summer of 1877, and brought out the blushing beauty.

She seems to be a tall young lady, having reached to the height of nine and ten feet, with a girth of two inches and a quarter, and clothed with leaves of unusual size, many of them being five inches across. This foliage seems to remain through the hot and dry weather of July and August, when some of our red raspberries lose their leaves, and present the appearance of bare stems, with probably a small tuft at the top. It is said too, that notwithstanding this great vigor of growth it does not suffer from the cold; that during two winters, in both of which the mercury fell to twenty-four degrees below zero, it stood unprotected without losing even the tip of a cane, while the Philadelphia and Clarke, growing in the same field, were seriously injured. Only think of that, twenty-four below zero and not even a tip injured. That is just the kind of raspberry cane we want in our climate.

And now for the productiveness—does it bear well? Yes, tolerably well, considering its height. Let us try the rule of three. If a cane three feet high yields six hundred berries, how many ought a cane to bear that is nine feet high? Well, we are not told how high this cane was which produced over eight hundred berries, fully one half of which were over three-fourths of an inch, cross diameter, many of them one inch, and a few fully one and one-eighth of an inch. One single branch twenty inches long, produced three hundred and seventy-nine berries. What a pity the plant could not be all branches?

But this variety also continues a long time in fruit, commencing to ripen about the first of July, and if we understand the matter correctly, continuing to yield ripe fruit up to the twenty-ninth of August. Now we do not approve of such a habit, it is a very bad one, and ought to be broken. Does Henrietta suppose we want her raspberries without end? Must we be asked to forego the blackberries altogether? Fie on your self-conceit, Henrietta; suppose you finish up by the first of August, and give us an opportunity to rest until another season.

In color the fruit is red, and is said to be of high flavor. We are not able to give Chas. Downing’s opinion of its merits, he having only committed himself, so far as we know, to the remark that it “is a very promising new variety, with most magnificent foliage.” This reminds one of the answer made by a non-committal bachelor, to the inquiry if he did not think a certain young lady just magnificent, who replied, “she has a most magnificent head of hair.”

But a hardy raspberry, one that can endure twenty-four degrees below zero without flinching, that bears large crops of large red berries, of good flavor, is worthy of being tested by our fruit growers; and we therefore state that any who wish to give it a trial can procure plants of the gentlemen who first brought Henrietta out, by addressing G. H. & J. H. Hale, South Glastonbury, Hartford Co., Connecticut, U. S. A.

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Will you in your valuable periodical spare a corner to an anxious amateur, and say the best manner plants can be protected in winter, where there is neither greenhouse nor cold frames, and the space in the room very limited? The collection consists of Geraniums, Fuchsias, Abutilons, Heliotropes, and Coleuses.

The following method has been suggested for the geranium, which form the larger number of the plants, viz.: To take them up, shake the mould from the roots, dry them in the sun for a short time, place in paper bags, tie them up, and keep them free from frost; in spring place in a cold frame, water, and gradually prepare for out door culture.

If any one has tried this plan, will they oblige with the result of their experience.

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BY J. M. M^cAINSH, ST. MARYS.

I have just had the Marechal Neil Rose in bloom for the first time with me. The roses are of a deep canary yellow, large, well formed, double, and very fragrant. It well deserves the reputation of being the finest yellow rose in existence. It is too tender to withstand the severity of our winters unprotected, but can be grown as a pot plant, and wintered in a cellar or cold pit.