SURELY, the study of horticulture in its various details, is one of the most beautiful that the mind of man can be engaged upon. I do not allude to that effervescent study given to it by nurserymen who are ever on the stretch for pounds, shillings, and pence, but to that cool, deliberate study of a student - that shutting out of everything except the scientific results of an inquir-ing, cool, deliberate mind. A few years ago, it was for the pear the quince stock only, and then the next move was the Angers Quince, the Pyramidal Quince, etc. Now, in 1857, there appears a reaction, and all pears must be on pear stock. We are strange in our ideas, few really thinking and acting on their own pure opinion; they take for granted that others are right. About five years ago, in an article for one of our periodicals (by myself), I advanced the opinion that the proper method of preparing the stock for a fruitful and persistent tree, was to remove it frequently before it was planted into the orchard. It would no doubt increase the cost from the nursery, but it would certainly be cheaper to the purchaser, in the safety and fruitfulness of the tree. I am not over the mark if I say that one-third of all the fruit-trees die within three years of their removal from the nursery.

I very much question if there are a fourth of those trees planted with any degree of knowledge, from the fact that the planter does not know, from reasoning or thought, how a tree should be deposited into the ground: even with a printed guide before him, be goes astray. If they grow, he takes the credit; if they die, the broad-backed nurseryman is to blame. I find, however, by impulse, I am going from my subject of the influence of the stock upon the scion or graft.

In my movements last season, I was called upon to visit a grapery where nearly all the vines "had been killed by some wash given them by the gardener." (Poor gardeners, they are always committing some unpardonable sin.) The house was new, and a good one. I was certainly struck, on beholding all (except three) of the vines cut down to very near the ground. Before I expressed any opinion, I observed that the wash had only finished the work. The vines had been allowed to remain to the rafter all winter, and had been killed by the frost and sun. But how did the three remain? you will say. On close inspection, I found they had been grafted or inarched upon our native grape; those three, and none other, had been operated upon. This fact was not new to me, though it was before me in a new feature. Every planter and practical man should hold before them, in large letters, that a hardy stock assists making a hardy tree. Gardeners about Philadelphia, and south of it, do not invariably take the precaution to take down their vines, and cover them with dry material, to resist the cold and sun.

Where it is not done, vines are split from top to bottom, fruiting buds killed, and frequently the whole or half the crop is lost A little forethought, and six hours' labor - labor do I say? no, pleasure is the proper term - pleasure to feel that your vines and coming crop are safe, even with the thermometer at 30° below zero.

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