©. SB 10^ Cornell University Library SB 105.A42 Address by C. L. Allen before the Lenox 3 1924 000 687 800 All r e s s by C. L. ALLEN Before the J^^^^^ Horticultural Society l^nox Mass, Mch **a&:^ The original of tiiis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924000687800 ADDRESS BY C. L. ALLKN. Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen : — It would be an un- piardonable presumption on my part to attempt to instruct you in the principles or practice of general horticulture. Your reputation as gardeners is too well known to permit of what would seem an impertinence. I could not enlighten you if 1 would, and am sufficiently cautious not to undertake an im- possibility. My familiarity with gardeners, and their work, has taught me most conclusively that alike we share the same feeling of uncertainty as to the best methods of cultivation, along an)- given line, that would apply to all localities. It is a peculiarit)- with the craft, that the more knowledge they have, the more they seem to fed the want of what they do not know. This feeling comes naturally to all who have not come to the con- clusion that what they do not know is a homeopathic quantity that could have but little effect either way. This class however is but an exceptional one in our hon- orable fraternity, as every gardener or horticulturist worthy the name, is constantly meeting with reverses that for the moment baffle.s his skill and thwarts his best directed efforts. My observation has shown most conclusively that these ex- periences are more frequent in this, than in almost any other country. This comes from the fact of there bein!.j; a greater difference in the character of the soil, together with the ever-changing climatic conditions, and that in close proximity, than in any other country it has been my privilege to visit. My first trip from Liverpool was on a beautiful morning in June. The! sun shone as brightly as in our own favored land, and the country never could have looked more beautiful, and when I met my friends, they said it never had. But the sorrow I felt for those poor fellows that were, as I thought, cheating a horse out of a day's work was simply intense. As I did not go to England to question their methods, I said nothing, and was content to buy their products, as cheap- ly as possible. Differences in methods soon became a subject of conversation, which was carried on in the most friendly manner. The emormous crops they grew, and, under circumstances seemingly difficult was an argument far more difficult to com- bat than the Why's they stated. It took three visits to fairly open my eyes and then I could not keep them open until I turned philosopher, or, at least, took a philosophical look at things, since which, I have not had an opportunity to thank some of them for the lessons learned. What those lessons were we will endeavor to show you later on. The intelligent gardener gets very much interested in this work. He soon becomes a thinker as well as a worker, and enjoys the plant for its own sake, far more than for what he can make out of it, or the reputation he makes for the growing of it to the highest degree of excellence. Noble trees, delicious fruits and beautiful flowers have for him an irre- sistable charm. How to grow is no longer a mystery, but why is the problem he cannot solve. Alone in the solitude of the forest, his eye rests upon some noble old patrician that has defied the storms, sighed and sung to the winds for generations of trees and centuries of years. He asks, from whence comest thou, and why — but there comes no answer. He asks, What is a tree ? The only answer comes from the spirit of the wood, "look around you.'' An ardent love for trees was a precious inheritance, the most valuable my father, who was a child of nature, left me. That love was never satisfied, as the mind could not compre- hend all the eye claimed as its own, and the beautiful belongs to all who appreciate it. Men may own costly palaces, and have all the pleasures life affords, but the beauty of an old apple-tree, on their grounds, is the inheritance of all that are fortunate enough to see and enjoy it. Many a man has costly residences, simply as external evidences of wealth and power. But some poor woman living in one dingy room, on some dirty, narrow street, gets more satisfaction from a geranium growing in a broken pitcher, in a window seat, because it ministers to her love for the beau- tiful. The plant will grow for her, when it would perish in the palace of the wealthy, for it is love that makes the plant grow, as it does everything else that is baautiful. Pardon 3 this digression and we will answer the question, What is a tree? What is a Tree. "1 care not how men trace their ancestry, To ape or Adam ; let them please their whim ; But I in June am midway to believe A tree among my far progenitors; Such sympathy is mine with all the race, Such mutual recognition vaguely sweet There is between us. Surely there are times When they consent to own me of their kin, And condescend to me, and call me cousin, Murmuring faint lullabies of oldest time Forgotten, and yet, dumbly felt, with thrills Moving the lips, though fruitless of the words." — Lowell. But few objects in nature have been the cause of so much discussion, about which there has been so much written, but few so little understood, or any that so justly claim our at- tention, as the tree. What is a tree? What are its functions and how are they performed ? For what was it created ? What is tree life, and how sustained ? Upon what does the tree feed, and from whence comes the material of which this noble superstructure is composed, and how is it built up? From whence comes the marvelous beauty and fragrance of the flower, and the delicious fruits that follow? All these are interesting questions, beautiful thoughts, shrouded in those delicate yet gorgeous robes of mystery with which nature clothes all her works. St. Augustine said : "When no one asks me what is time I know it very well, but do not know it when I am asked." Cannot the same be said of the tree, which is one of the most beautiful as well as the most wonderful object in nature? Why should one be deciduous and another an evergreen, and the two dwelling together in the most perfect harmony of pur- pose, at the same time making a poem of the landscape. Why should the fibre of one tree be so hard and elastic, and that of another very soft and tender. Why should the leaf of one tree have smooth, regular edges, while those of another arc either scalloped or toothed? Why should the fruit of one be wholesome and of another poisonous? We notice and ad- mire all these wonderful forms, and are astonished at their power, and wisdom. We look with awe upon their massive strength, and ask from whence they come and why, but there comes no answer. Who can define the incomprehensible? "The child asketh of its mother: Wherefore is the violet so sweet? The mother answereth her babe: Darling, God hath willed it. And sages, diving into science, have but a pro- fundity of words. They track, for some few links, the circling chain of consequence, And then after doubts and disputations, are left where they began." From a long season of interesting experiments made by some of the most distinguished scientists of the present and past century, with the aid of the microscope and the most complete chemical apparatus that human ingenuity can devise, we find there is a constant interchange of gases between the plant and the atmosphere, exhibiting the double phenomena of absorption and exhalation, which is analagous to the respir- ation of animals. We find leaves, by a natural process of their own, absorb carbonic acid gas, which is denominated fixed air which would be destructive tO' life if enhaled ; and in return give out oxygen gas, the life-sustaining element of respirable air. This is shown by placing them in air that has been rendered so impure as to be unable to support the flame of a candle, or animal life, where they will thrive and soon restore it to its purity. Hence it is obvious that the oxygen of the whole atmosphere would, in the course of time, be consumed by the breathing of an- imals, and by flame, were it not for this singular provision, which enables the leaves of plants to supply oxygen, and to keep up the due proportion which is necessary for the support of animal life. Mirbel observes in reference to this extraordinary fact, "that plants alone have a power of deriving nourishment. though not exclusively, from inorganic substances, mere earth, salts or air ; substances certainly incapable of serving food for animals, since these feed on what is or has been organized matter, either of a vegetable or mineral nature, so that it would seem to be the office of vegetable life to trans- form dead matter into organized living bodies. Many aquatic plants possess the faculty of throwing out pure air in a re- markable degree, particularly the Epilobium or Willow-herb, and the Conferva, a minute, branching, cotton-like vegetable, which grows on putrid water, especially that which has been rendered foul by long-keeping on ship-board, which it puri- fies and renders fit for use. The gases which the plant absorbs from the atmosphere are usually considered plant food, and to a large extent con- tribute to its growth. To a certain extent this is true, al- though plant growth or development is a result, an effect. The operations which produce the same we will endeavor to show. The changes that plant food undergoes are purely chem- ical, and are in all respects similar to the changes in animal food. The food of plants is digested and rendered nutritive in their leaves, that of animals in their stomachs ; in both the operations are the same, and are performed in the same man- ner as the chemist separates elementary substances. When starch is converted into glucose, or grape sugar, as it is commercially called, it is done by the addition of a small quantity of sulphuric acid,- when 't is in a liquid state, and then submitting it to a great heat. To free the acid a small quantity of the carbonate of lime is thrown in ; this precipitates the acid, and the combined foreign elements set- tle to the bottom of the pans, leaving the glucose pure, which, at convenience, is drawn off, and the chemical agents being of no further use, are committed to the rubbish heap. In this operation art only imitates nature. In the trans- formation of impure gases into oxygen by the plant, the same operations take place, the same elements are employed, and there is the same waste matter to be disposed of. In order to show how this important work is performed we must com- mence with the seed and repeat some familiar lessons. When we plant a seed in the ground it very quickly com- mences growth in two opposite directions, upwards into the atmosphere and downwards into the earth, the two sources from whence it obtains the materials which contribute to its future growth. The first change the seed undergoes is the conversion of starch, which it has stored up, into sugar, the food of the infant plant; this is done on precisely the same principle that starch is converted into sugar at the starch man- ufactory, the only difference being that in seeds there is a ■substance known as diastase, very minute particles of which, with the aid of heat and moisture, which are furnished by the sun and atmosphere, has the remarkable property of convert- ing starch into sugar. This diastase has precisely the same active principle as sulphuric acid, and under relative condi- tions produces the same effect; it exists in all seeds, bulbs, buds, or tubers, that contain the germs of plant life; it is found in the largest quantities near the eyes or young buds of the potato, by the vessel of which it is carried through the masses of starch when required. How beautiful an arrange- ment it is that a substance possessed of this remarkable prop- erty should be found wherever a store of the first of these substances is laid up for the purpose of affording a supply of the latter when required, and that this active principle should be found no where else than in the very parts of the vegetable structure in which it will be used. As in the manufacture of sugar from starch, certain min- eral agents have to be employed, leaving when the work is completed a proportionate amount of waste matter to be dis- posed of, the same is true with animal food ; a certain pro- portion goes to repair the daily waste of muscle, bone or nerve, and there is a due proportion of waste, the disposition of which is wisely provided for. The tree has its food stored up in the seed or fruit in sufficient quantity to sustain life until its first leaves and roots are developed, the same as the white of the egg sustains the young chick until it can pick for itself. As soon as the plant perfects its first leaves, it is self-sustaining and commences the important work it has to perform in the economy of nature — that of the conversion of impure into healthful gases, and of the secretion and storing up of every- thing necessary for the sustenance of man, whether as regards food, medicine or the many substances used in the mechanic arts. In every leaf there are millions of chemical laboratories incessantly at work producing the results as stated. Each of these takes in from the atmosphere the elements that are to be worked over; the roots send up the silicates and other es- sential elements; the sun furnishes the heat required, and the absorption is complete. By day and by night a constant inter- change of gases goes on, the leaves taking in the poisonous ones and returning healthy ones in exchange. As in the work- shop or mechanical laboratory, these changes cannot be wrought without an accumulation of waste matter, residuum of the lime, potash and silicates. Observe how wisely, beauti- fully, and economically this work is done, and you will see in their adaptation to man's necessities — in their ministering to his tastes — some of the most interesting harmonies of Nature ; and when we use the word Nature we mean it as Cowper so beautifully expressed it : "Nature is but the name of an effect, the cause is God." It is the year's wastes from these laboratories that forms the concentric circle of growth, commonly called the grain of the tree. These cells are marvelous because of their smallness. Each individual can only be seen by the aid of the microscope. These cells are formed in regular order from the residuum of the mineral agents employed in the transformation of gases. As fast as the material is furnished by the leaf laboratories, cell after cell is added with the greatest mathematical ac- curacy. The material is arranged with the greatest economy as to space, the wisest calculation as to strength, with the most complete adaptation to man's necessities, and with that beauty and grace that can only be wrought by the hands of the Cre- ator. Small as these cells are, they are no longer than their diameters, and are kept in place by ligaments that correspond with those that hold in place the joints in our bodies. This allows the tree to sway to and fro in heavy gales without breaking. The first season's growth is the alburnum or sap-wood, through the cells of which the next year's operations are com- menced. As soon as new cells are formed this sap-wood be- comes solidified, the cells being filled with the same waste mat- ter of which the cells are composed. At the end of the season's growth, all the previous year's growth has become heart-wood, and a new circle of sap-wood is completed for future use. This annual growth is very variable. Some seasons these an- nual circles are fully twice as deep as in others, or rather the leaves of the tree cannot do as much work as in other seasons, because of a deficiency in water which is an important element in the work of transforming the gases. We notice too, that the arrangement of these cells is made with a view of giving strength to the tree in the parts where it is most required. In the forest, growth is upright, the tree l^ecomes tall and slender, and has but little strength where the branches unite with the body, neither is much needed. A community of trees protect each other against the force of the wind. But plant one of these same species in the open, where it must alone battle with the winds, unprotected, both the aerial and underground branches are more stocky and the trunk short and rugged. Where the brances unite with the 1)od>' there will be double the number of cells arranged to- gether to give greater strength to that part of the tree where it is most required. This arrangement is not the result of ac- cident, but a part of an intelligent, well organized system that wc call creation. The tree is generally considered a single organism, which it is not. but a community of organisms, as we see it. their home. Each bud is the parent of an individual plant as truly as is a seed, each can be grafted upon a foreign stock and its fruits will remain true to their parentage, so that the tree may be made up of as many varieties as it has branches, and each variet}' will contribute in the building up of the trunk, upon which each individual lives. A tree may be justh' considered a community of kindred spirits dwelling in harmony together, each doing a proportionate work in the maintenance of home. We have referred tu the tree as a chemist so far only as it was the agent for transforming poisonous gases into healthful ones, for the sustenance of animal life. We now propose to treat the subject more in detail, only, however so far as to show that every plant, however humble it may appear, has a special work to perform, that its creation was for a specific purpose, and that every form is a necessity in the economy of nature. The plant's sphere of usefulness is far more exten- sive and varied than is generally supposed. There is, upon the surface of the earth and its waters, more than 140,000 dis- tinct species that have been examined, analyzed, and classified. This vast number represents an equal number of industries. No two are alike ; each has its own work to do, and is provided with all the requisite appliances for its performance. Our chemists assert that there are less than sixty element- ary substances which is true in so far as their chemical analy- sis can determine, but the tree is a much better chemist, as its appliances are much finer than human skill can devise. Fi-oni various combinations of these every article known in com- merce and in the arts and sciences is produced. The plant says there are more than 140,000 elementary substances, or as many as there are species of plants, all of which they show by their various productions. Each and every plant is adapted to the necessities of other living organisms in the locality where they are indigenous ; in every localit}' the animal and plant sup- port each other and consume each other. The breath of the ox is the food of the grass upon which he feeds, being sustained wholly by the plant and its fruits : in the end every part of his life goes to sustain plant life. Let us now, for a moment, look over the field and view the plant industries. The Poppy gathers, from the atmosphere and earth, the two sources from which it obtains its food, the well known drug, opium. In Turkey that element or active principle exists to a remarkable extent, either in the atmos- phere or earth. There the Poppy (Papaver Somniferum) is indigenous, created expressly for the work it so systematically performs. In this country the plant will develop and perfect its growth, but will not yield a drug possessing the active principle for which opium is celebrated Why? Simply be- cause there does not exist in our atmosphere and earth that elementary substance which the plant was created to collect, in order that the atmosphere might not be vitiated by it. We next see the Maple collecting saccharine juices and the Hemlock tannin. The Aconite collects and carefully stores in its tubers a deadly poison. Side by side with this, and so close as to hold each other up is the Salvia, with healing in its leaves. The Strichnos Nux-Vominca yields the most dead- ly of all vegetable poisons, which it carefully stores in its seeds, while the pulp that surrounds the seeds is wholesome, lO and a favorite food of birds. The Pine yields resins, the Caoutchouc rubber. In our gardens the Potatoe stores up starch for the sustenance of man. By its side, so near that the tubers crowd each other, we see the Arum with so much acridity in its tubers that a thin slice applied to the skin will draw a blister. The two grow side by side in the most perfect harmony, performing their alloted tasks wisely, patiently and well. Each and every locality has a vegetation adapted to its necessities. In some localities it is far more varied and lux- uriant than in others, but there is a perfect harmony in such places between the fauna and flora there. This seemingly un- equal distribution is not the result of accident or chance ; rather the result of an intelligent, well organized plan. In short, each plant is a special creation, and that for the time and place in which we find it. The Oak was not brought forth from some other form by the slow, uncertain labors of evolu- tion, but by the unerring hand of Almighty power and good- ness. The form, variety and extent of the vegetation of a coun- try depends altogethe'r upon the existing elementary sub- stances which thev were created to utilize, in harmony with other creations. The Cinchona Calisaya of Peru has a world- wide fame for a certain principle in its bark known as quinia. It is a strong, rapid growing evergreen shrub, or low-growing tree, of an ornamental character, and abounds in the low ma- larial districts of that country. So valuable is the bark of this tree as an article of commerce, that its cultivation in other countries, where both climate and soil are supposed to be favorable for its production, has been attempted. The ex- periment has, however, in nearly every case proved a failure, from the fact that the drug in an elementary state did not exist in the atmosphere of its adopted home. But when taken to other malarial districts the bark is as valuable as that grown in Peru. It matters not how luxuriantly the tree may grow, it cannot yield a produce that does not exist in its surroundings, no more than the chemist can extract the precious metals from rock that does not contain them. This same principle is applicable to every plant and under all circumstances. It is the reason why the Peach or the Plum II will thrive in one locality and not in another, and why the one and not the other will thrive in the same locality. It is the reason why either will for a period thrive, and then for a suc- cessive period fail ; then again thrive and produce their rich fruits with all their former vigor. It is the reason why the rotation of crops is an agricultural necessity. When one kind of grain, vegetable, or fruit has consumed all the food provid- ed for its use, and those elements that man has not the power to furnish, it will no longer succeed, and the practical horti- culturist, wisely accepting the situation, plants some other crop, until Nature, through her own resources, restores to the soil the elements that have become exhausted. We cannot close our remarks upon the plant as a chemist without a quotation from Runge, the noted chemist and ob- server: "A plant is a great chemist; it distinguishes and sep- arates substances more definitely and accurately than man can, with all his skill, his intelligence and his appliances. What is a man, indeed, when compared with the humble plant which he treads under his feet, in all the mistaken pride of his little knowledge and circumscribed power and Capability? The little Daisy, which has painted its "wee crimson-tipped flowers,' puts the chemist and scientific man to shame, ftir it has pro- duced its leaf and stem and flowers, and has dyed these with their bright colors from the materials which he can never change with all his arts." We have endeavored to show that plant growth is ef- fected through the agency of the sap, which, of itself is but the means to an end. As we have already stated, the sap is the agent employed to carry the mineral substances from the earth and the gaseous ones from the atmosphere to the chem- ical labratories in the leaf, and, also, to take from those labra- tories these mineral substances after accomplishing their work in the transformation of gases, and are no longer of use other than as material for plant structure. Let me be plainly under- stood, the sap's function is that of a common carrier, it takes to the leaf certain chemical substances, and from the leaf these same substances after their active principles have been elim- inated for the transformation of poisonous gases into pure or respirable air. It therefore follows that plant growth is proportionate to the work performed by these chemical labratories, and, they in turn by the materials furnished for their uses. As the earth and air abound in these materials, growth is wholly dependant upon the circulation of the sap, if rapid, growth will be pro- portionate, and the reverse. When a plant is at rest there is no circulation of its sap, as it has no work to do. In wmter when all our trees are dormant, the sap simply rests from its work, but remains in root and branch alike, as in the season of growth ; the tree then has its analogy in the numerous ani- mal forms that hibernate during the same season. The circulation of the sap in the tree or plant, is analagous to the circulation of the blood in the animal forms, and the stomach of the animal has its analogy in the leaf of the plant, varying only in form and degree. From the blood the solid tissues take their food, and their oxygen, and into it they dis- charge their waste products. The question that has perplexed the horticultural scien- tists for ages is : "How, and by what means is the circulation of the sap effected." This question has puzzled the wise men ever since plant physiology was awarded a place with other sciences, why and how have been asked repeatedly, and there came no answer. It may well be supposed that each and all of the older physiologists must have had an opinion of his own to ac- count for this surprising phenomena; they had, but it was an opinion only, and that, so shrouded in mystery, and seeming- ly, so occult that the more light they threw upon the subject the darker it grew. Time will not permit of our discussing other's opinions which were very much along the line of an answer made by a distinguished professor in a Medical Col- lege, when asked by a student, "What is protoplasm?" His reply was, "Young man, that is a word we use to conceal our ignorance." We admire the honesty of the professor, if we cannot accept his logic. The fact is, that every argument advanced by one sci- entist was freely combatted by another, and we poor fellows who were, and are looking for light, are continually in the dark. Now, before going further along this path, and giving our views, let it be understood they are our views, and we ask you to accept them as such, as we do not wish any one else 13 to be censured if these views do not commend themselves to your better judgement. More than that, if our opinion is cor- rect, it will show most conclusively why intensive cultivation is the secret of success in horticulture, and why the garden pays, relatively, better than the farm. I have long been of the opinion that there is in the vege- table as in the animal, a peculiar vital power which influences all their functions. This vital power, is, in a great measure, governed and controlled by external conditions, in fact it is a result, as, without favorable external conditions, there would be no growth, hence no vital power. Among the external causes is temperature, and the all- important one. Light and electricty exert a powerful influ- ence on plant life and growth but are by no means principle agents. It is generally supposed that a high temperature is singularly favorable to the movement of the sap. In winter the tree is full of sap, but it does not circulate, and, in due time plant growth commences, and is proportionate to the volume or rapidity of the sap that passes through the plant's cells. High temperature of the atmosphere alone, will not in- crease the rapidity of sap circulation, while it is important, it is equally so to have the soil as cool as possible, but, above the freezing point. It is the contrast between the two that causes the circulation, and the greater the contrast the more rapid the circulation. Hence the more rapid growth. Having given this subject considerable attention, let me give you a few of the results of my observation and experi- ments. On one of my seed growing farms, my foreman for the past five years has been growing a few acres of potatoes annually, under the mulching process. His method is as fol- lows : — First, perfect tilth, the land is plowed, then cross-plowed, after which it is gone over with a disc harrow until it is made as fine as light loam can be made. The potatoes are then planted, in drills eighteen inches apart — the pieces are cut to a single eye, and planted one foot apart in the drill, the '"Aspinwall." Just before the plants appear, the field is gone over with a weeder, thoroughly. The same operation is re- peated just as the plants appear above ground. Then the 14 field is covered with straw to the depth of six inches — if the supply of straw is short, he uses less, covering from four to five inches in depth. This completes the season's work until harvest, unless a persistent weed appears, which is carefully pulled out. When the harvest is ready the outer row of straw is removed, the crop harvested and the next row is uncovered, and so on until the whole crop is secured. For the past five years that this method has been pur- sued, the yield has been 300 bushels per acre, while the average crop, grown in the ordinary manner, by himself and neigh- bors rarely exceeds 125 bushels per acre. The question that naturally presents itself is "Why?" such results. We answer, because the soil is much cooler than an uncovered surface, which is favorable to rapid sap circulation, upon which growth depends, and this is the more important reason. The second, and of equal importance is the fact, that at all times during the season of growth the soil is fine and open, so that the delicate feeding roots of the plant have not the slightest impediments in the way of their search for food, and growth of root must be proportionate to growth of top — there must be the same number of cells below ground as above, for harmony of purpose. Plant growth is the first requisite to reproduction, and the results are almost invariably proportionate to the plant's size and vigor. A weak plant cannot have any great amount of procreative energy — a strong growing one may not have, but will when the essential conditions of reproduction are favorable. The plant's strength comes from the united ener- gies of leaf and root working in harmony together. The in- jury to the one renders the work of the other useless. It is, therefore, highly important that cultivation should be so prac- ticed that no perceptible injury can be done to either. You are all aware of the fact that the unaided eye rarely I>erceives the feeding roots of the plant, therefore readily un- derstand how quickly they perish in either a dry or hot soil. We all urge the importance of mulching and attribute its vir- tues to the keeping of the soil moist when, in reality, its uses are in keeping the soil cool, which keeps the sap in more rapid circulation. In our greenhouses a given plant will make a far more rapid growth in the same temperature than in the open, and IS that because its roots are much cooler, although the results are usually attributed to some other course. Plants of various sorts are grown in pots, when propa- gated for commercial purposes, but no one would think of growing a carnation in a pot if its flowers were the object. If the seed of a carnation was the object of its cultivation, then pot culture would be eminently proper, from the fact that the plants consciousness of its peril, when grown under such con- ditions, would cause it to throw all its energies in the work of reproduction. The largest crops of wheat ever produced in proportion to the labor employed, are grown in North Dakota, where the frost is not out of the soil until the plants are in flower, and the weather excessively warm, and this because the roots are at all times cool, while the temperature is, relatively, high, the contrast keeping up rapid circulation of the sap in the tissues, carrying the materials of growth to the parts of the plant when and where required. Intensive Cultivation. which means getting the greatest possible returns from a given piece of land, by keeping the same constantly doing something, is nature's method of reproduction. In the wood, plants appear and disappear in rapid succession. Change, the soul of nature, is a daily manifestation. It is a great pleasure in riding through woods and uncultivated lands to watch the change in the flora. But the lessons learned are the most im- portant. An eye crop is a good one to harvest, but better far is the one that furnishes food for the mind or understanding. The wild wood produces a greater variety, and as great an amount of vegetable matter, as the cultivated field during the season, and that because of the rotation of crops and the fact of the mulch that one plant furnishes another. On our light soil of Long Island the plants in the wood and neglected fields do not wither as quickly as in the cultivated ones, and, for the reasons we have repeatedly stated, and for the same rea- son that the garden is far more productive than the field. Our market gardeners have become fully convinced that nature abhors a vacant space on her fair face, and the moment one crop is taken off another is in readiness to take its place, i6 and that of an entirely different nature and liabit. Experience has taught us that when a plant has derived certain active principles from the soil, it deposits others for the plants that are to follow in succession. One of the early writers, 1 think Virgil, said the natural repose of the land is a rotation of crops, which is absolutely correct. Certain it is the more fre- quently we return a variety or class of vegetables to the same soil, the better returns we get. The importance of a rotation of crops may be plainly seen on some of the farms of our large truckers or market gardeners, where the theoiy is reduced to a science. It is the general impression that none of the Brassicas should be grown two years in succession on the same field — and for a rotation, two crops of grass was a necessity. The modern practice is as follows, which is, seemingly, contrary to my premises. But it is an excellent plan for a man to distrust himself — and not to think that what he says or does is absolutely right because he says or does it. These farmers get a crop of cabbage or cauliflower annually, and have for the past fifty years from the same field, and from the following methods of rotation. The farm in view is of 250 acres exclusive of about fifty acres of orchard, dwelling and greenhouses — for the growing of cauliflower, lettuce and mushrooms. The 250 acres are all in one field and a level plain, without a tree, and for more than fifty years not a spear of grass has been grown on it, the whole being in vegetables. One section of 60 acres is devoted to cauliflower, the plants of which are set the first work in spring from seed sown in the greenhouse earlv in February and are twice pricked out before setting in the field, the last time in flats, and one and one-half inches apart each way. When the ground is ready the flats are taken to the field and the plants so carefully handled in setting that they do not suf- fer the slightest check. When the ground is in readiness this work commences without the slightest regard to climatic con- ditions. Whether the day be hot and dry, or, on the contrary, cool and wet, preference being for a day just before a rain, which firms the soil perfectly around each plant, the all-im- portant work in setting out plants. As soon as the plants are put in place a small handful of shell lime is strewn about each 17 plant, care being taken that it does not touch the plant. The lime is a specific against club-root which is liable to attack all of the Brassicas if grown two or more years in succession on the same field. Incidents. Another plot of 25 acres is set with early cabbage, the plants for which having been grown and set in precisely the same manner as those of the cauliflower. These crops are all gathered, marketed, and the ground prepared for another crop, of an entirely different character, by the first week in July, when preparations for another crop are already commenced. The second is usually sweet corn and snap beans, about an equal quantity of each. Corn is consid- ered the better for a succession, as it leaves the soil in good condition, and is a most valuable fodder crop, and the only one their horses get during winter. As soon as the ears are picked, the stalks are cut and carted away, the stumps dug out, and the plot again plowed, and sown with spinach, which is a valuable crop, not only for the market, but it keeps the soil constantly doing something. Mother earth will not — does not — tolerate idleness, so if we do not provide her with seed she will draw from her own resources for a crop of weeds. Idle soil, like idle brains, have no place in the economy of usefulness. As spinach is a most valuable plant for plowing under, it is a valuable crop when the market does not demand it, when it does, it is marketed during the winter and early spring. Quantity Used. This is what may be termed intensive truck-farming, and is only referred to, to show how one crop prepared the way for its successor, and makes possible the growing of cauli- flower and cabbage annually, for an indefinite period on the same land — the alternate crops doing the same work, which has generally been supposed could only be performed by seed- ing down, for at least two years, which is along the same line pursued by those who grow beets for sugar purposes where they find they can only return to the same soil with a crop once in five years. I8 Intensive Gardening shows the same general principle to be correct, and shows, at the same time very much more, and along the lines that grow to sustain our theory regarding the cause of sap circulation, and the development of the plan/ through its agency. Profitable Truck Growing. A vast number of our truckers or market gardeners, with farms capable of producing large crops, are having a desperate struggle for existence, while others, owners of small farms, or what might be called large gardens, are doing a more lu- crative business than any other class of men with the same capital invested and labor employed. There are many vege- table growers within, say five or ten miles from the greater New York markets, on ten-acre farms, who are supporting their families in what would have been called luxury but a few years ago, giving their children good, and in some instances lib- eral, educations, keeping a horse and phaeton, and laying aside for the proverbial rainy day a $i,ooo per annum. That a farm of ten acres can be made to provide sufficient to support a family of eight persons, and have a surplus of $ioo per acre seems to the ordinary farmer preposterous. It is never- theless true. Take as an example, one of the small farms or large gardens near Greater New York, and observe the meth- ods employed. We will take one acre of the ten-acre farm already noted above. Intensive Culture. As soon as the last crop is off, say the middle of Novem- ber, this acre is covered so completely with well-rotted manure that the passerby could not tell the character of the soil, whether light soil, loam, or heavy clay. Immediately there- after, weather permitting, this acre is plowed, and as deep as the soil will permit. If freezing weather follows, disintegra- tion goes on just the same; in fact, more rapidly; if not, after a brief rest, in goes the plow again, followed by the harrow. Although two plowings are quite satisfactory, if the January thaw comes late and is a dry one, in goes the plow again fol- lowed by the harrow. Our farmer is now content and all nature appears to be. 19 In February the hotbeds are prepared and the seed sown as soon as conditions are favorable, the first being cabbage and lettuce. Of cabbage the Early Jersey Wakefield and some one of the Early Flat Dutch varieties are used. The two will keep up a succession for the market for about three weeks, as long as the land can be spared for this crop, as it must be cleared by July i, to be in readiness for the crops which are to follow. The first step taken for a good crop of cabbage, and the all-important one, is to secure good plants. To that end, as soon as the second leaves are about the size of first or seed leaves, they are pricked out into frames of finely prepared soil, set about one-half inch apart in the rows which are one inch apart. Here they remain until the next pair of leaves are about a half-inch in length, when they are again pricked out, this time into flats or shallow boxes, the plants set one inch apart each way; these flats are put into cold frames and kept covered with sash when necessary, until they are set in the field. It is well here to say that the soil in which the seed was sown and the plants grown is not par- ticularly rich. Let the plants acquire a good, vigorous growth, then, when set in the field, they can assimilate all the food given them and a rapid growth is the result. Cabbage, Lettuce and Radishes. The lettuce plants are treated in precisely the same man- ner, but young lettuce plants are given a little more room, because of their spreading habit. When the days of encourag- ing warmth bid welcome, and the field has again been plowed and harrowed until the loam has become as fine as river sand, the cabbage plants are taken to the field in the flats in which they were growing, and carefully set where they are to per- fect this growth. A small handful of shell lime is strewn around each, which is a preventive of club-root and stem- rot. The plants are set in rows three feet apart, one-half foot apart in the row, which gives in round numbers ii,ooo to the acre. Between each of the cabbage plants is set a lettuce plant. Then, between those rows is one row all lettuce set one foot apart in the row, whch gives a total of 25,520 plants of let- tuce. Between these rows, which are 18 inches apart, is sown a row of radish, which gives annually not less than 25,000 20 bunches. This will bring the rows of vegetables about nine inches apart, which some of the gardeners consider a waste of room, as they make their rows of cabbage but 30 inches apart, with radishes and lettuce between, which would reduce the distance between each row to seven and one-half inches. The radishes are marketed within sixty days from the time of sowing, which makes room for the lettuce to perfect its heads. This crop will be ready by June 15, and the whole crop will be sold and land put in condition for another series of crops by July 10. Celery. Immediately after the crops are taken off, the land is cleared of rubbish, and given a liberal coat of manure, when the plow and harrow again do their work and do it well. Shallow trenches are made three feet apart for the celery l)lants, which have been grown with the same care given the cabbage and lettuce. The plants are set six inches apart in the trenches, which gives 29,040 plants to the acre. Between each trench are set two rows of lettuce plants, which have been wisely provided, which will give 29,040 heads. Let us now see what this acre has yielded, giving the average market prices, as the farmer gave them to me: 11,000 heads of cab- bage at five cents, $550 ; 54,000 heads lettuce at one and one- half cent, $810; 29,000 heads celery at two cents, $580; 25,000 bunches radish at one cent, $250; total, $2,190. This gives the total value of products $2,190. The cost of pro- duction is about as follows: manures and fertilizers, $100; Inbor *:too: marketmg (preparing vegetables), $500; inci- dental expenses, $50: total, $750. Net profit, $1,440. This farmer has ten acres, and during the past ten years has cleared and safely invested $9,000. This you will under- stand is the net profit supporting a family of eight persons, giving his children a liberal education, and living in all re- spects in as good style as the average merchant or professional man. All his land is worked on the same plan. It may not be all worked at as great a proiit.from the fact of his having a regular set of customers, strictly first-class retail dealers, for whom he is obliged to grow some crops that do not pay as well. He usually grows two acres of potatoes, and expects to get 400 bushels per acre, and does unless blight or drought 21 destroys, which thus far it has never done. The potatoes are a first crop and are followed by celery, beans, corn or some other crop that pays equally well. But every acre, every rod of this garden or farm, is worked on the same intensive plan. The Secret of Success. You may ask wherein lies the secret of such productive- ness and corresponding profits, when the ordinary tiller of the soil can hardly subsist. The answer is an easy one. First, success is mainly due to the fact that nearly all the tilth is given before the seeds are sown or the plants are set; after this work is done no horse ever enters the field until there is a crop to be carted off. Albout the only implement used is a harrow hoe, which just skins over the surface so frequently that weeds cannot grow, and moisture cannot escapie by evapo- ration. Talk about blight, rust and insect enemies — all com- bined are the gardener's friends, when compared to the damage done by the wheel cultivator when driven deep be- tween the rows, cutting or tearing off the roots, which are as essential to the plant's existence as lungs are to our bodies. The second is that this class of men are merchants ; they do not produce milk at three and one-half cents per quart and sell at two and one-half cents. Neither do they grow apples for the pleasure of seeing them rot under the trees. They cause their lands to produce what may be con- sidered enormous crops, then dispose of them at a profit, which is not shared or given to the middleman. There is an active demand for good vegetables of all varieties; that de- .mand is constantly growing. To meet it and make the grow- ing profitable the vegetable growers must awake from their slumbers ; they must produce vegetables of a better quality, and get them to market in an attractive shape. Quality can only be secured by intensive cultivation. Any vegetable grown quickly is tender and delicious, while one that takes all summer to grow is tough and tasteless. To secure such, frequent plantings are necessary. Radishes are only at their best for a day or two, particularly in midsummer, beets but a week or two ; the same is true of sweet corn, peas and beans. To grow vegetables quickly the soil must be prepared as di^ rected, manure must be liberally supplied, and in a condition 22 that will excite or encourage plant growth rather than plant disease. It will not do to apply it in lumps or masses ; on the contrary, it must be so thoroughly incorporated in the soil as seemingly to be a component part. The plant delights to send its roots far and wide for its food, at the same time gettmg its strength from mineral agents in a way it has said but very little about. In fact the plant has innumerable cunning devices that we know but little about ; one thing, however, is certain, it loves best to grow for those who love it. Our best gardeners employ both manure and fertilizers to advantage. Those who depend wholly upon the market use both in equal proportions, so far as money value goes. Those near Greater New York use $50 worth per acre. But let me be under- stood, the $50 worth of stable manure does not cost more than half that amount; it only costs the cartage, as they can get free of other cost all they require, but what they use per acre has a market value of $50. It is not the possibilities of a small piece of land that I wish to speak, as you must all be familiar with such experi- ences, but it is WHY such results are possible. I have briefly referred to my observations, on the foreign methods of gardening, that their methods appeared slow — very slow. While, it would have been impertinent to have made any suggestions, I could but think : "Why do you not come to America and learn something? Why not use the muscles of the horse and save your own?" Many such sug- gestions presented themselves until I began to think Darwin was not far wrong in his theory of the origin of man, only that development had not got as far as stated. After my second visit, and going over the same grounds, I returned having learned something and came to the con- clusion that their gardeners, instead of coming here to study, had better come as teachers, as their methods were more pro- ductive of good results than ours. It was there I began to look over the small farms or rather large gardens of which I have spoken in our own country, and soon I was outspoken in praise of the methods employed, and gave them credit for what was due to principles, although the principles would have been inoperative, without the methods. The secret of success lay, in the first place, to putting the soil in the proper condition for plant growth, then in having the plants set so closely, that evaporation through the sun's influence was an impossibility, and, at the same time, keeping the soil cool, which is the active agency of sap circulation, and plant growth. There is one point regarding cultivation. No matter upon what scale it is conducted, that needs mention, which is the injury done the roots of plants by too deep cultivation. The damage done to field crops through our modern, improved cultivation is simply immense. The wheel cultivator is the farmer's worst enemy. You will understand that I mean the two horse implement that is made to go as deep as the horses will permit. After the young plant is large enough to be seen, the soil should be constantly or very frequently stirred — but its surface only, and then only so long as the plants do not afford shade sufficient to keep the soil moist be- low the surface. After that, the more frequent the cultivation the greater the injury to the plant, as the implement used cuts off the feeding-roots of the plant, without which there can be no growth. Since we have, on our own grounds, adopted the principle of shallow cultivation, our seed crops have materially increas- ed in productiveness, and those who do the most cultivation before the plants are set, and the least after, invariably get the largest returns. Incidents innumerable could be named to confirm the opinion I have formed regarding plant growth or develop- ment. But we do not consider it necessary ; at the best I had only hoped to point out this wonderful phenomena, sufficient- ly plain for you to become, in some degree, interested — that you might reason together on the theories as stated, and de- rive the same pleasures in so doing, as they have afforded me. It is a great pleasure to meet with a body of men work- ing together in harmony of purpose. As each bud is an in- dividual in the great work of building up the tree, and their united efforts, as one mind builds up the most beautiful, as well as the most wonderful object in Nature, so you, as in- dividuals, united in purpose, each in your own way, are build- ing up the immense superstructure of horticulture, that makes the landscape a poem, and the garden a favorite place of rest —quiet and delightful. ^4 He who watches the plant's every action, every change from infancy to ripe old age, and notes its persistent labors requisite to perform the duties it has to perform ; its marvelous powers of discrimination, its ability, or, more properly, skill, in building so beautiful a structure as the tree, shaping its leaves in so many forms, for purposes we do not, cannot un- derstand; its flowers which no artist can imitate, and whose colors no chemist can reproduce, and whose fragrance cunning art cannot imitate; the active principles stored up in its tis- sues for "the healing of the nations," and, what is more won- derful still, its delicious fruits, each after its own kind, which IS the more perfect union of the useful and the beautiful to be found on the earth, we cannot but feel the tree a master- piece of thought. I am in the most perfect and happy accord with Ernest Haeckel's theory regarding the soul cell in plants, that there is in each, and was when the plant was but an invisible cell, the possibilities of its highest development, also a consciousness adapted to its duty to develop in harmony with other creations. Creative energy did not rest, neither was creative thought exhausted, when the earth was covered with vegetable forms perfectly adapted to the positions they were to fill, or the uses for which they were created. It was commanded to grow, to develop as well as to increase. Nature is double all through, mind and matter, body and soil. The soil of nature in the plant is that vivifying force or principle, that governs the plant's every action, directing its every change, or variation of form or usefulness, in its adaptation to changed environments, and to other creations, of which it is a component part in the great principle of life. While we can readily understand the plant's changes in form or substance, through climatic influences, many of which we shall duly consider, they are frequently so marked in their essential character that no one can understjmd these variations unless they are the results of the plant's own volition. The history of cultivated plants shows most conclusively the harmonies of creation ; that in the rise and fall of nations with their intelligence and social attainments, the plant has kept pace with every onward, upward advance, and, with their decline and fall; the beautiful flowers, delicious fruits, and esculent vegetables have soon become weSds of sorrow in the solitude. The wild, undeveloped man fed on wild, undeveloped fruits and vegetables, and upon meats as coarse as himself, as he grew, in obedience to command, as his moral and intellectu- al forces developed, the food upon which he subsisted develop- ed qualities that would minister to the necessities of his new growth. A plant in its native habitat is an undeveloped, uneducated object in the realm of nature, and has its analogy in the wild man of the wood, from which it differs only in degree. In its native state, the plant's only mission is reproduction, its whole energy is along those lines. The development of its functions, or active principle that gives it a place in the econ- omy of nature, whether it be for food, raiment, or medicine, or for its uses in the mechanic arts, is left until such times as these productions become indispensable to other creations. When the period arrives for the plant to produce food for the sustenance of man, and it sees that its labors are ap- preciated, and that those it serves will assist in it propagation and perpetuation, it ceases in a great measure to produce seed, which is the true fruit of the plant, and its whole en- ergies are directed to the production of food for the use of man, who, in return for the food received, which we are pleased to call fruit, must from necessity attend to the repro- duction and perpetuation of the plant by artificial or changed methods. Man is quite apt to arrogate to himself the credit for doing what the plant through the order of evolution has done for him, and in spite of his efforts to do something else. In tracing the analogy between animals and plants some of the most striking characteristics are manifested, and strange conclusions are unavoidable. The more we study plant life the more we become convinced that life is a unit, varying in form only, not in principle. Everything capable of repro- duction, growth and development is governed by the same law, and each is but a part of the unit we term life. That plants think or manifest any power analagous to what we term instinct in animals and the human reason or understanding, is not generally supposed; in fact it is a sub- ject but little understood, Seldom do we meet a person with 26 sufficient courage to assert such a belief in opposition to the prevalent, popular opinion to the contrary. The close ob- server of the habits of plants daily witnesses many manifesta- tions of their intelligence in their search for food ; in looking for support, if climbing plants; in their persistent efiforts to have their own way in the performance of duty, and more particularly in the manner of selection of the sexes — all these showing plainly that if plants do not think for themselves some one must think for them, which completes the analogy Ijetween them and very many men. In conclusion let me say, while my business is along horti- cultural lines, and no man should be engaged in a pursuit he does not enjoy — it is the love of the beautiful that enraptures. This love is not so ardent in the morning as in the evening of life. The enthusiasm of youth, its fond hopes and noble .■ispirations, the wild and reckless chase after the golden bauble of wealth, the hopes of political preferment, or the bright dreams of fame, give but little play to the reflective faculties of the mind. We are not apt to look backwards until after we have passed the meridian of life, the active duties of which seem to absorb the higher pleasures that should be experienced in middle age, and it is not until we begin to look towards sunset or linger in life's twilight that the truly beautiful is revealed to us. The beautiful has a powerful influence for good, it teaches the most impressive lessons in a language that cannot be mis- understood — the language of the human soul. The beautiful in nature is impressive in its character, because it is pure and unselfish, and the love for it never wearies or grows old. On the contrary it increases and strengthens with our years. Coultis says: "If you wish for peace and contentment of mind study nature. You will be brought into communion with the infinite and eternal. You will become temperate in your desires. The contemplation of this majestic system of con- tinuous and eternal change will give loftiness to your thoughts ; free your mind from a groveling and ignorant su- perstition ; give you just, confiding, worthy views of your Creator, and enable you to march through life with a firm, with a manly step. This world is full of beauty little under- stood or appreciated. .\n overflowing goodness has covered 27 the earth with flowers and glorious forest trees, yet how few, comparatively speaking, care to know anything about them. We invite you to this grand and ancient library ; to the study of these volumes overflowing with wisdom and instruction. It is not the mere study of nature, but the impressive lessons which she teaches. Thoughts of infinitude and eternity come to me from the distant stars, and from the forms of vanished life laid up in the rocks reminding me that my own life is fleeting and evanescent as the vapor of the morning. The lofty tree, with its wealth of branches and foliage, perishes alike with one of the lowly undistinguished blades of grass which it overshadows ; so none are so high or well-known but they shall, ere long, lie low and be forgotten. And herein is seen the wisdom and equity of the arrangements of Nature, that all must submit to the great laws of decay and dissolu- tion. She shows, in this respect, no partiality. Superior talent, energy, or social position, may for awhile elevate some fragments of humanity above their fellows, but all are in the end reduced to the same level.