T
HE-LOUIS-C-C-KRIEGER.
MYCOLOGICAL LIBRARY
AND COLLECTIONS.GIFT OF
WS HOWARD:A-KELLY.M.D.
UN
TES
ما
TO THE UNIVERSITY-HER-
BARIUM OF THEUNIVERSI-
TY OF MICHIGAN.1928.
Charles I. Cor.
New York


تھے۔

Museums
QK
3
H65




B O T A N I CAL
TRACTS,
СТ
John
By Dr. HILL,
こ
​VIZ
1. Uſefulneſs of a Know-
ledge of Plants.
4. The Originof Proliferous
Flowers.
5. The Sleep of Plants.
2. Outlines of a Syſtem of
Vegetable Generation.
6. The Hiſtory and Virtues
of Valerian.
3. The Origin of Double
Flowers.
7. An Account of the
Muſhroom Stone,
To which are added
1. The Method of Propa-
gating Trees by their
Parts, by Mr. T. Barnes,
a Correſpondent,
2. The Practice of Garden-
ing, by Mr. T. Perfect,
a Pupil of Dr. Hill.
Publiſh'd at various Times.
Now firſt Collected together.
LONDON:
Printed for R. BALDWIN, in Pater-nofter-Row, 1762.


THE
USEFUL N E S S
OF A
KNOWLEDGE of PLANTS:
ILLUSTRATED
In various Inſtances, relating to MEDICINE,
HUSBANDRY, Arts, and COMMERCE.
W IT H
The eaſy M E ANS of INFORMATION.
By 7. HILL, M. D.
LONDON:
Printed for R. BALDWIN, in Pater- nofter-row; and
J. JACKSON, in St. James's-Street,
M.DCC. LIX.
(1759

LL

memerin
6-5-1939
(1)
THE
USEFULNESS
OF A
KNOWLEDGE of PLANTS.
INTRODUCTION.
T!
6E-L-4 to
HE frivolous purſuits in which ſome
have engaged, under the name of
Enquiries into NATURAL KNOWLEDGE,
and which the incurious world have been
content to diſtinguiſh by the ſame title,
have brought that uſeful fcience to diſa
grace: The Virtuoso has been conſidered
as a NATURALIST, and the FLORIST has
been honoured with a name derived from
BOTANY. If the credit of that ſtudy were
B.
all,

(2)
all, it would be eaſy to paſs over this in fi-
lence; but more than thoſe who love the
ſcience are intereſted in the conſequences :
it is in many inſtances neceſſary to the con-
venience, and in ſome to the very being of
mankind : the world therefore owes the
ſubject more reſpect than to confound it
with the amuſements of an idle, though in-
nocent curioſity
1
The knowledge of plants, in particular,
is of fo various and important uſe, that the
Publick would perhaps do wiſely to pro-
vide there fhould be always ſome per-
ſons who made it their immediate care.
Such a knowledge may be uſeful in a high
degree to MEDICINE, to AGRICULTURE,
and to Arts and COMMERCE ; for plants
are eſſentially concerned in all theſe : and
certainly the greater advantages will be ob-
tained in them, the more the objects are
underſtood. May I be permitted to add a
fourth great article in which this ſtudy has
an high utility ? a conſideration indeed ſu-
perior to them all : 'tis Piety. He who
can ſee the wonders of their form, and not
adore the hand that made them, deſerves
not

(3)
a
not the character of a rational being ; nor
does he much leſs degrade himſelf, who
fees them, and is filent. In theſe, altho’the
humbleſt of his works, we ſee the great Cre-
ator clearly and diſtinctly; and while we
view their growth, they raiſe the mind to
heaven.
So far as MEDICINE depends on plants,
a knowledge of them is eſſential equally to
its success in the preſent practice, and to
its ADVANCEMENT by new and uſeful dif-
coveries. Who ſhall depend upon the vir-
tues of an herb, a root, or feed, when it is
impoſſible he ſhould know whether he re-
ally takes them ? or how ſhall the phyſician
judge of their effects, who is not ſure that
they were given ? yet this uncertainty is too
juftly founded upon the preſent ignorance
and inattention of the ſeveral ranks through
whoſe hands all preparations muſt paſs
between the phyſician's preſcription and the
patient. We ſee in fimple medicines of
this kind the abuſe is great; doubtleſs in
compounds it is greater : nor is the mil-
chief confined even within theſe bounds.
Tradition tells the mother of a family this
herb or that will cure the diſorders of her
a
B 2
children;

(4)
children; but ſhe is deceived when ſhe
makes the trial; for ſomething elſe is fold
under its name.
tion;
ROMAN WORMWOOD will cure indigef-
for it is an aromatick, warm, and cor-
dial medicine; but no ſuch herb is brought
to market: they fell SEA WORMWOOD, a
nauſeous bitter, in its place, and the true
medicine, though poſſeſſed of all its virtues,
has thus loft much credit. All this time
there is no plant more hardy than true Ro-
MAN WORMWOOD, none more eaſily propa-
gated in the open ground: but the phy-
ſician overlooks the abuſe; and long neglect
has made the other an univerſal ſubſtitute.
MR. DAVIES, on the great ſucceſs of the
the BARDANA in the gout, took for three
weeks, in vain, a nauſeous infuſion of the
root of COMMON BLUNT-LEAV'DDock. This
had been dug up to ſell under the name of
the SHARP-POINTED Dock, famous in fcor-
butick caſes; and by a ſecond abuſe was
palmed upon the purchaſer under this other
naine.
A few months fince, the YOUNGER
MR. DELAVAL acquainted me he had been
5
uſing

(5)
uſing the BLACK BRYONY ROOT exter-
nally for a fixed diſorder in his fide, by the
preſcription of DR. JAMES; but without
any effect. Enquiring into the ſymptoms
which would have neceſſarily appeared up-
on the application of that medicine, I
found he had felt nothing of them; and
on producing the root, it appeared he had
been all the time uſing the White Bry-
ONY; a plant, though idly called by the
fame generical term, yet altogether different
in its virtues.
The inner bark of the ſmall ſhrub
FRANGULA, is a cathartick equal to any
of the foreign drugs, and is peculiarly ex-
cellent againſt obſtinate cutaneous diſorders.
I ordered this to a perſon who had ſuch a
complaint; and they fold him, in its name,
the bark of COMMON ALDER, an aſtringent.
To a poor perſon periſhing under a
jaundice, I directed the DULCAMARA, a
medicine fuperior to all others in the laſt
ſtage of that diſeaſe ; and ſhe received in-
ſtead of it the COMMON NIGHTSHADE.
This might have been of fatal conſequence;
for the doſe of the other is fo large, that
an

( 6 )
an equal quantity of this muſt needs have
been deſtructive. Both theſe abuſes roſe
from errors of the ſame kind: We call
the Frangula, Black Alder; and the Dulca-
mara, Woody Nightſhade. They were to
blame who introduced this corruption of
names; but that is too eſtabliſhed to be al-
tered: the care muſt now be to make them
underſtood. The knowing plants diſtinctly
is the immediate buſineſs of thoſe who keep
ſhops for the ſale of them; and the meaneſt
ſervant who is allowed to officiate, ſhould
be compelled alſo to learn their differences.
Theſe are inſtances in which my particular
care in ſeeing the plants, faved the lives of
thoſe who were to have taken them : may
we not juſtly think many are loſt where
the abuſe is not diſcovered.
TENDERNESS for names prevents my
mentioning fome other inſtances : but they
are needleſs, for the abuſe is in a manner
univerſal. WHITE MAIDENHAIR has vir-
tues greater than all its kind, but Fern is
fold conſtantly under that name; tho' the
plant itſelf is common.
THE

( 7 )
The true wild VALERIAN, eminently
uſeful in nervous diſorders, was no where to
be had, before the fraud of ſelling a wrong
kind was ſhewn: but now the ſhops are
full of it ; phyſicians find its original excel-
lence, and the drug has recovered its long-
loſt eſtimation.
The roots of the common double-flow-
ered PIONY, are ſold for medicinal uſes :
whereas the phyſicians direct only thoſe
of the fimple kind, called for diſtinction
the Male Piony; and experience thews
theſe alone have the full virtue. Nay it is
not long ſince that in the place of the com-
mon DROPWORT, an eſculent root, the
HEMLOCK DROPWORT was brought to one
who wanted it; the moſt fatal of all the
Engliſh poiſons.
We ſee ſome plants of little efficacy,
and others of different qualities from thoſe
intended, are ſold under their ſeveral titles:
nay ſometimes ſuch as are deſtructive. Un-
der the name of Bugle, an excellent ſub-
aſtringent and balſamick, they ſell Vipers
BUGLoss, a detergent of more power than
5
is

( 8 )
is generally known; for the BLACK HOAR-
HOUND, an anti-hyſterick medicine, they fell
the WHITE HOA RHOUND, a pectoral; for
LITTLECELENDINE, uſeful againſt the piles,
GREAT CELENDINE, good in diſorders of
the eyes; and for the true BLACK HELLE-
BORE, famous for many virtues, and no
harſh medicine, they ſell always the Green-
flowered BASTARD HELLEBORE, or the
GREAT SETTERWORT; giving to infants,
a violent medicine inwardly, whoſe proper
uſe is externally for cattle.
By this fault the ſucceſs of medicine, ſo
far as it depends on plants, is rendered pre-
carious; and from the ſame cauſe improve-
ment in that branch is become impoſſible.
In England the roots of GOLDEN ROD
have been found excellent againſt the gra-
vel; and thoſe of the LONG CYPERUS, a
cure for dropfies, in the ſtages wherein
that deſperate diſeaſe is curable: but tho'
this knowledge comes upon fair authority,
how ſhall it be confirmed ? He who ſhall
attempt to try the virtues of theſe roots,
will probably find ſome other thing fold in
their place; and it will be ſuppoſed they
have

(و)
have not the virtue which has been attri-
buted to them, becauſe that root has not
the ſame which ignorance or fraud has
ſubſtituted in their ſtead.
From the ſavages of North America we
have heard, that the root of MOUNTAIN
Avens will cure agues, in the manner of
the bark; and probably this is true : for the
fame virtue has been attributed by many
writers to the COMMON AVENS of our
hedges. Perhaps it loſt this credit un-
fairly, by ſome other root being ſold for it :
but where is the chance that it now ſhould
be reſtored ? From the ſame quarter of the
world we receive intelligence of a LOBELIA,
diſtinguiſhed by a peculiar quality in the
cure of the venereal diſeaſe, and that the
COLLINSONIA, a plant ſome years ſince re-
ceived into our Gardens, and named from
one who does great honour to this ſtudy,
poffeffes virtues for the relief of the dif-
orders of pregnant women ſuperior to all
other remedies.
These ſeveral plants we may raiſe in
any quantities; and there is fair ground
C
i
to

( 10 )
to hope the art of healing may be greatly
improved by them: but they muſt firſt be
known ; and theſe abuſes muſt be re-
moved before 'tis poſſible we ſhould enjoy
the benefit. The BARK itſelf came to our
knowledge the ſame way; and we want
other Medicines of ſuch Power : America
may produce them ; indeed there appears
reaſon to believe it does : but unleſs the
knowledge of that part of nature, whence
they are obtained, be more regarded, there is
little chance of our receiving the full bene-
fit.
If from medicine we turn our eyes to
AGRICULTURE, the proſpect is the fame:
great advantages are in our reach; but if we
neglect to underſtand the ſubjects, we ſhall
loſe them.
All know how lately we are become
acquainted in England with what are called
the ARTIFICIAL GRASSES, plants raiſed
by tillage for the food of Cattle; nor is there
any one who diſputes the vaſt advantage our
huibandry has received from them. The
number we have of theſe at preſent, tho?
much

((ar)
much larger than was known to our fore-
fathers, is yet very limited, and the great
benefit wou'd be variety. It will be eaſy
to add, where ſo much has been diſcovered ;
and to apply to Britain what Linnæus has
advanced in Sweden.
NATURE has not confined this ſource
within narrow bounds : it is our ignorance
alone which makes it ſeem ſo. We find
that even in kingdoms farther north than
ours, the peaſants have introduced many
plants yet unknown to our farmers; and
there are wild about our hedges others
which might be cultivated to a vaſt advan-
tage. The YELLOW MEDICK WITH
WREATHED Pods, which grows neglected
on our waſte grounds, is the new plant now
cultivated ſo ſucceſsfully in Sweden : the
farmers, indeed the whole country, are en-
riched by it, and the character under
which it ſtands recorded in their publick
acts is Omnium omnino præftantiſſimum pa-
bulum, ALTOGETHER THE MOST EXCEL-
There
is no diſputing their teſtimony, who have
ſo much experience, nor is there any reaſon
why
LENT OF ALL FOOD FOR CATTLE.
C2

( 12 )
why we ſhould not ſhare the benefit in
Britain.
ژ
THE KIDNEY VETCH, and LADIES
MANTLE, eminent for the nouriſhment
they afford; the firſt to ſheep particularly,
the other equally to thoſe creatures and to
cows; are wild in gravel-pits, and by road
ſides : but they are unknown in our paf-
tures, unleſs by accident, and then unre-
garded; while they are both ready to grow
from ſeed ſcattered among the graſs of hilly
and barren clofes ; encreaſing the quantity
of food tenfold ; and improving it in the
fame proportion.
;
THE CHICHLING VETCH, which riſes
in our damp thickets, is capable of giving
the ſame benefit to wet marſhy lands; per-
haps even to bogs: but no farmer knows
it. Melilot, though not regarded for this
purpoſe, wou'd, in the ſame degree, en-
rich an open paſture; and the Burr REED,
of our ditches, might fill the wet moors
with food for our horned cattle, for no plant
is ſo readily eaten by oxen ; nor is there
any one more wholeſome.
AMONG

( 13 )
a
AMONG the articles uſeful in the arts,
and objects of our commerce, it is not con-
ceived what benefit might ariſe from a more
perfect knowledge of their nature. Many
of the moſt confiderable are native of our
own country ; tho' neglected here, and
ſought at a large price abroad : and we
have others which might ſupply the place
of ſome that are imported, perhaps to
better purpoſe. To inſtance only among
thoſe ſubſervient to dying.
The French exceed us in their BLACK
for cloths: and from many circumſtances
there is reaſon to believe, they owe the ad-
vantage to a wild plant, as common here
as it can be with them ; it is the LYCOPUS,
or WATER HOARHOUND: it has been ear-
ly ſaid, tho' now neglected, that this plant
yielded a peculiar and diſtinguiſhed black:
and ſuch limited experiments as I have had
opportunity to make, confirm it. 'Tis cer-
tain the French gather this herb carefully,
which we ſuffer to periſh uſeleſs ; nor is
there any other purpoſe known, to which
they can apply it.
WE

[ 14 ]
We bring Canary weed, a dry brown
moſs from that remote country, to uſe in
our red colours : but we have rocks and
barren hills at home covered with a moſs of
like nature ; and as it ſhould ſeem of many
times its value.
a
In Sweden red is dy'd with the roots of
SQUINANCY Wort, yellow with the bark
of BUCKTHORN and BLACK ALDER; and
red with the SAW-WORT as we do yellow
with the Safflower; little unlike the other
but in colour. All theſe are weeds, or
wild hedge-ſhrubs with us: and why ſhould
not every one have a fair trial? Perhaps the
Society for the encouragement of Arts and
Commerce, the beſt ever inſtituted in our
country, may raiſe the ſpirit of this im-
provement by their premiums: but who
ſhall aſſure the induſtrious mechanic that
he has the right plants ? 'tis ten to one
againſt him, wherefoever he attempts to
buy them.
THAT the Sick are frequently defrauded
of their cure, and perhaps ſometimes de-
ſtroyed by the abuſes of thoſe who deal in
herbs, is moſt certain. But how ſhall they
who

( 15 )
who ſell them be inſtructed better? or who
ſhall ſhew the former what that Medic is;
or what thoſe other plants he is adviſed to
cultivate? Where ſhall the dyer learn what
is the true Saw-WORT, or who ſhall tell
him the diſtinction between BUCKTHORN
and BLACK ALDER; the very berries of
which laſt ſhrub, are often ſold for thoſe
of the other, even to the apothecaries.
(6
GREAT as the diſadvantages and miſ-
chiefs are which ariſe from the preſent
want of information ; the remedy is eaſy,
Galen preſcribed it in his time, when he
ſaw the ſame necefſity. It is the “teach-
ing thoſe who are concerned ; not by
flight words, or vague repreſentations, but
by the plants themſelves; raiſed in ſome
« ſmall ſpot for that ſingle purpoſe.” The
learned may ſtudy them in books; but
there is none ſo low in mind, who would
not know them by the things themſelves,
preſented growing to his eye, and ex-
plained upon the ſpot before him.
This ſpot ſhould be planted with every
herb uſeful in medicine, in the arts, or huſ-
bandry; and ſhould be open always, free of
expence ;
3

[ 16 ]
expence, and to all people: and there
ſhould be fome perſon preſent to ſhew
what was deſired to be ſeen, and to ex-
plain what was neceſſary to be known.
From a ſpot thus planted, and thus cal-
culated for plain utility, ſcience need not
be baniſhed; nor indeed ought: becauſe
upon its principles alone, are eſtabliſhed
thofe abſolute diſtinctions which prove the
error or the fraud of common practice ;
and which would render all miſtake, and
future deception, equally impoflible.
a
The plants raiſed for this ſervice, would
appear as conſpicuous to the common eye,
when diſpoſed in the regular claffes of the
modern botany, as any other way; and to
the ſtudent they would be much more
diſtinct, and plain in all their differences.
Whatever could be done by a claſſical di-
ſtribution of the ſhrubs and flowers in
more extenſive plantations, may be execu-
ted even with theſe humbler kinds; and
the purpoſes at once of the ſtudent and
the publick, fully anſwered.
more
ting bote
PLANTS
The only to

( 17 )
PLANTS would be known with certainty,
from ſeeing them fo diſpoſed, and hearing
them clearly and uſefully explained. Great
care ſhould be taken to ſhew diſtinctly the
different kinds which ignorant cuftom, or
inconſiderate writers, have called by the ſame
general name: there ſhould be ſhewn toge-
ther, with each plant, what other ſpecies
were moſt like it; and there might be ad-
ded always in ſome near border, the thing
uſually fold under its name, This would
be fixing the whole ſubject upon the me-
mory, even of the unlearned.
The nature and qualities of plants might
here be pointed out in preſence of the ob-
jects; and their value thewn, not only fo
far as is known, but in thoſe farther advan-
tages which might reaſonably be expected
from them. The garden would be a kind
of living herbal; in which it might be eaſy
to explain, in a diſtinct order, what each
plant was, whence it was brought, and
how diſtinguiſhed from all others; what
virtues it, poſſeſſed, and for what ſervices
it was proper.
A leffon too ſhort to load
the memory; and too regular to be miſun-
derſtood. Thoſe who ſtudied the nature of
D
vege-
3

( 18 )
a
vegetation for the aſſiſtance of the arts of cul-
ture, might there ſee a vaſt variety of plants
in every ſeaſon, ſubjected to all rational
experiments; manures of every kind might
be experienced fairly ; and the arts, the
means, and objects of improvement in our
huſbandry, all ſhewn at once. The curious
would have the advantage of feeing, in a
fingle view, the various uſeful products of
the ſeveral parts of Europe: and even more
nice enquiries might be here turned to
uſe : for it is not impoſſible that in many
caſes, what one plant does well, another
fpecies of the ſame kind may effect yet
better. Why ſhould we ſuppoſe that he
who, probably by accident, made the dif-
covery
of the uſe of any plant, has always
chanced to try the moſt effectual kind.
3
A LITTLE ſpot would anſwer all theſe
purpoſes; and ſuch a garden might be ſup-
ported at ſmall expence. Till that ſhall be
eſtabliſhed; the Author of the Propoſal will
take a pleaſure in giving this information to
all who want it at his own garden. Let
none fear to apply, the plants are there;
and every one is welcome.
FINI S.



Ο OUTLINES
Ι Ν Ε
OF A
S Y S T E M
Ο F
Vegetable Generation.
By Dr. J. H I L L.
Illuſtrated with FIGURES.
LONDON:
Printed for the AUTHOR;
And to be had of R. BALDWIN, in Pater-nofter-row;
T. Osborn, in Grays-Inn; G. SeYFFERT, in Dean-
ſtreet, Soho ; and R. WATKINS, Optician, at
Charing-Croſs. MDCCLVIII. .


అతడి
OUTLINES
OF
Vegetable Generation.
W22 9 92 92 82522622WXN2222 W29292
The DESIGN.
T
HE purpoſe of this work is to
attempt, on principles not before
eſtabliſhed, and from the conſtruc-
tion of parts hitherto overlooked, or too
lightly regarded, an explanation of the Pro-
DUCTION OF PLANTS.
B
SINCE

(2)
Since the generation of animals, after fo
many experiments and diſſections, is yet ob-
ſcured by many difficulties, we cannot expect
ſwift advances in the diſcovery of that of
vegetables ; in which the parts are ſmaller,
their office is leſs known, and their diſſection
much more difficult.
No more is attempted here than to lay
down the ſketch or firſt deſign of a method,
in which this ſubject may, perhaps, be
traced ſucceſsfully: outlines which the in-
genious are invited to aſſiſt in filling. The
courſe of nature is here followed (faithfully,
if imperfectly) only in one plant; and what
advances are made, have been the reſult of a
few months obſervation under a fingle hand:
years, perhaps ages, are required to purſue
it thro' the ſeveral orders of the vegetable
fyftem.
ONE plant alone is examined to
avoid perplexity : others will be eaſily ſub-
jected
I

( 3 )
3
jected to the like enquiry; and they will
either confirm this ſyſtem, or eſtabliſh a
better. Truth will be one way or other
found.
EVERY diſcovery, however ſmall or ima
perfect, is an advance in knowledge ; and has
its Value. One new and juſt obfervation
is worth all the ſyſtems that ever were in-
vented. I know how to reverence the
FLORENTINE and SWEDE; but I ſhall here
regard what no author writes : only what
nature offers to the fight, on due inſpection.
The Enquiries I have attempted have
been made with caution; and I ſhall be
content to proceed ſlowly. The ſearch being
after truth, all conjecture has been baniſhed,
till the principles are known: and the little I
may
have diſcovered, which is publiſhed as an
inducement only to proſecute the ſub-
ject, is laid down in terms plain to the un-
learned. The gardiner may do more than
the
Ba

( 4 )
the philoſopher in this point; for he has the
means of conſtant obſervation.
There are many things in which plants
and animals agree; but there are alſo ſeveral
in which, for obvious reaſons, they cannot
but differ. Analogy, therefore, may be uſe-
ful; but it muſt be purſued with limitations,
or it will miſlead.
CHAP

( 5 )
СНА Р. І.
THE GENERAL STRURTURE OF
VEGETABLE BODIES.
TO
O underſtand a part of any ſubject
well, it is neceſſary to have a juſt
idea of the whole. The organs employed by
nature in the generation of plants, are the
immediate objects of this reſearch : but
they cannot be perfectly known till we are
acquainted with the reſt of the vegetable
conſtruction.
A plant is an orgainized body, endued
with a power of growth, and a kind of
life; but without fenfation.
PLANTS conſiſt of five parts: 1. The
outer bark. 2. The rind. 3. A vaſcular ſe-
ries. 4. The fleſhy ſubſtance. 5. The pith.
These are common to all plants, trees
and the moſt tender herbs, only differing in
B 3
con-

(6)
conſiſtence. They are moſt diſtinct where
they are moſt firm, as in the woody kinds i
and leaſt where they are moſt tender, as in
the thick ſtalks of bulbous rooted plants. In
theſe the inner parts often refemble ſpunges
filled with water; and are only diſtinguiſhed
by the gradations of colour.
The ſeveral organs of generation are
formed, by continuation only, from one or
other of theſe parts.
The parts are always arranged in the or-
der here laid down ; the bark outermoſt, and
the reſt in that regular ſucceſſion.
The root draws nouriſhment from the
earth; and the ſtalk conveys it to the flower.
In the flower are placed the organs of ge-
neration. Theſe are generally underſtood to
.conſiſt of the FILAMENTS, with their An-
THERÆ, and the STYLE with its STIGMA,
and RUDIMENT of the fruit : but there
are

( 7 )
are other parts equally worthy notice. Theſe
not having been fufficiently obſerved, the
ſyſtem of generation has been imperfect.
I propoſe to trace theſe ſeveral parts in a
plant, in which they are all large and con-
ſpicuous; tho' the latter have not been
before obſerved in it.
This plant is a ſpecies of AMARYLLIS;
ir is diſtinguiſhed from the reſt by the droop-
ing poſition of the FILAMENTS, and is a na-
tive of the American iſlands*.
a
THE root is a bulb: the ſtalk is naked
and a foot high. The leaves are graffy, but
of ſome breadth; the flower is compoſed
of fix petals, and has ſo many FILAMENTS
with a ſingle Style,
THERE is nothing in this plant fingular
or uncommon: the parts are plain and
fimple ; therefore they will be eaſily traced :
* Amaryllis Spatha multiflora, corollis campanulatis æqua-
libus, genitalibus declinatis.
Linn. Sp. 293
they
B 4

(8)
they are very conſpicuous; and they will,
probably, be found of the ſame ſtructure in
the generality of others. See Pl. I.
The Bulb is the covering and defence of
the young plant : its fibres properly are the
roots. The coats of the large part are like thoſe
films which encloſe the young ſhoot in the
buds of trees, and are deſtined only to that
purpoſe.
The ſtalk is thick, a little flatted, and
hollow: a tranverſe ſegment of it repreſents
an elliptic ring, with a large aperture.
In
this the five diſtinct parts of vegetable con-
ſtruction, before enumerated, may, with due
care, be traced : and this beſt of all by ma-
ceration and diffection,
The outer bark is rediſh and filmy: the
rind is green and thicker: the vaſcular ſe-
ries is pale : the fiefhy ſubitance is white :
and the pith, which ſurrounds the hollow to
a

PL.I.
8.
Page
Fig. 2.
Fig.
Amaryllis genitalibus declinatis
Sculp

OF
MICH

(و)
à confiderable thickneſs, is perfectly cryſtal-
line, and colourleſs.
The diviſions of theſe parts are indif-
tinctly marked; but they are abſolute. The
vaſcular ſeries is whitiſh, the fleſhy ſubſtance
white and femipellucid, the pith perfectly
clear, and altogether colourleſs.
The bark has many fibres: the four
other parts are full of bladders and large vef-
ſels. The bladders are roundiſh, but cruſh'd
by preſſing one againſt another : they are
ſmalleſt in the rind, and larger all the way
to the pith, in the inner part of which they
are wideſt of all.
30
The veſſels are elliptic, and have large
cavities. They are continued in an uninter-
rupted courſe, from the extreme fibres of the
root, to the ſeveral parts wherin they termi-
nate. On this ſtructure depends the courſe
of vegetation; which is conducted thus.
THE

(10)
3
The root being planted in the ground,
where there is heat and moiſture, receives
nouriſhment, which expanding and enlarg-
ing the embryo plant, fends it up thro' the
ſurface. A ſtalk riſes, on whoſe top appears
a membranaceous fcabbard, containing two
flowers : this burſts open, they diſcloſe
themfelves; and beneath each is the rudiment
of a ſeed veffel, in which are ſhells of feeds.
The plant has now perfected its growth,
and muſt ſoon after decay : but nature, ra-
ther the God of nature, thus prepares a re-
ſtoration.
The filmy fcabbard formed from the
outer membrane of the ſtalk, having per-
formed its office, fades. The flowers are
hardened for the air, and no more need
its defence.
THE PETALS, which are fix, ſurround
the ſame number of FILAMENTS, and in the
midſt of theſe is the more drooping Style.
THE

(II
)
)
The conſtruction of the ſtalk is the ſame
with that of the fibres of the root; and
the ſeveral parts of the plant follow the
like rule.
a
The principal veſſels and fibres of the
ſtalk may be traced, in a ſtrait courſe,
from the extreme pars of the root, to
the ſummits of the fix filaments in the
flower ; which properly terminate the ve-
getation. This I have thewn by diffection,
and maceration of the parts: and I am ex-
tremely obliged to Mr. Lee, nurſeryman at
Hammerſmith, who, for the ſpace of fix
weeks, from the middle of February to the
end of March, ſupplied me almoſt daily with
freſh plants in flower for the experiments.
The fibres of the root are compoſed, as in
all other vegetables, of five ſubſtances.
I. An OUTER BARK, and, 2. an INNER
RIND, 3. A SINGLE COURSE OF LARGE
VESSELS, 4. A FLESHY SUBSTANCE, and,
5.

( 12 )
و
5. A CENTRAL Pith. Of theſe five parts,
it will be proper to treat diſtinctly; be-
ginning with the outermoſt: ſeparating them,
and caſting them off as we proceed.
This way, we ſhall learn the courſe and uſe
of the veſſels and fibres of each.
The extreme filaments are the true root
of the plant: the Bulb from which they
ſpring, being only, as in other kinds, a co-
vering of the infant ſhoot; ſuch as the buds
of trees, and the bulbs upon the ſtalks of
SAXIFRAGE, and certain LILLIES.
С НА Р.

( 13 )
CH A P. III.
THE COURSE, USE, AND TERMINATION
OF THE OUTER BARK.
THE
HE outer bark of the fibres of the
root in this plant becomes the outer
ſkin of the ſtalk, acquiring greenneſs when
it riſes into the air.
This, after having covered the whole
ſtalk, forms the ſcabbard of the flowers; and
there terminates abſolutely: all its fibres and
vefſels, contracting there, and loofing, them-
ſelves at its top and edges in cloſed ends.
No part of them are ſent into any other ſub-
ſtance of the plant.
СНАР.

( 14 )
CH A P IV.
THE Course, USE, AND TERMINATION
OF THE INNER RIND.
TI
HERE remain to form the flowers
and their foot-ſtalks only four parts,
the inner rind, the fingle courſe of vef-
fels, the fleſhy ſubſtance, and the pith.
The outer bark being ſeparated, and
peeld off, the inner rind preſents it-
ſelf. Its veſſels and fibres proceed in a
ſtrait courſe from thoſe of the root thro'
the bulb, and up the whole length of the
ſtalk; at whoſe fummit they divide into
two parcels, and form two cluſters ; each
making a knot, from which riſes the foot-
ſtalk of a flower. On theſe parts this rind na-
turally

( 15 )
turally appears naked, the outer bark hav-
ing terminated in the ſcabbard.
The veſſels and fibres may be traced
by the help of maceration in theſe knots.
They do not terminate in them, but after a
few windings, paſs thro' them; and are
continued forward up the rind of the foot-
Italks.
At the Top of each Foot-ſtalk there is
another knot or cluſter of them ; in which,
after a few windings, they form themſelves
into a broader coat. The ſingle courſe of
large veſſels appears alſo on the inner part
of them very diſtinctly.
They form together the ſhell or ſubſtance
of the ſeed-veſſel, whoſe rudiment in this
plant ſtands under the flower; and is one
continuous ſubſtance with it.
All this is form’d by the inner rind of
the fibres of the root, continued, under cover,
through

( 16 )
through the ſtalk, and naked on the foot-
ſtalk, and on the ſeed-vefſel.
FROM the head of the rudiment of the
feed-veſſel, this rind is continued in a ſingle
Body a little way, and then dividing into fix
parts, it ſpreads out into the fix petals of the
flower.
These are formed only of the rind of
the foot-ſtalk; and the change of colour
is worthy obſervation. In the root this
ſubſtance, which is there the inner Rind,
is of a reddiſh brown ; in the ſtalk it is of
a ſtrong green; this colour it preſerves
in the foot-ſtalks ofthe flowers; in the rudi-
ment of the capſule it is of a deeper green; in
the baſe of the flower, which is placed imme-
diately above this, it is paler ; and thence by
degrees, as it aſcends the petals, it becomes
ſpotted with red, and afterwards red en-
tirely.
THE

( 17 )
The veſſels and fibres of this part are
very conſpicuous in the flower; and they
terminate abſolutely at the ſides and tops
of the petals : as thoſe of the outer rind did
in the ſcabbard.
Thus we ſee the end of the ſecond coat
of the plant; and there remain the three
others entire, for the conſtruction of the
ſeveral parts of fructification.
C
С НАР.

( 18 )
CHAP. V.
THE COURSE, TERMINATION, AND
USE OF THE SINGLE SERIES OF
VESSELS BETWEEN THE INNER RIND
AND FLESHY SUBSTANCE.
IN
N the conſtruction of the outer bark and
of the inner rind, there are mixed with
the fap-veſſels, fibres in which I have never
been able to trace any cavity ; and air-tubes
in great abundance : but 'tis not ſo in regard
to the veſſels next under, or within the inner
rind.
These are large and few: they are con-
tinued in a regular chain all round the ſtalk,
between the inner rind and the fleſhy ſub-
ſtance : and there are no other veffels or
fibres mixed among them.
THESE I have traced in well macerated,
and afterwards in freſh diffected ſtalks, in an
uninterrupted courſe along the main ſtem,
thro'

( 19 )
thro' the knots at the diviſion for the origin
of the foot-ſtalks of the flowers, thro' thoſe
foot-ſtalks and thro' the rudiment of the feed
veſſel, and the ſolid baſe of the flower; but
they do not run up the petals, thoſe being
form’d only of the inner rind.
These veſſels terminate within the body of
the flower, juſt above its ſolid baſe: but they
communicate in a wonderful manner by
lateral branches with the veſſels of the fila-
ments, which run cloſe to them.
THERE is a part in this flower which,
tho' extremely Singular and elegant, no au-
thor has hitherto obſerved. Linnæus, who
has otherwiſe very correctly given the cha-
racter of the Amaryllis, has not mentioned
it: but 'tis eaſy to know, from his manner
in other caſes, that when thus pointed out
to him, he will call it the NECTARIUM, or
its ſeveral diſtinct portions, the NECTARIA
of the flower.
THESE parts are too conſiderable to
have been inade without ſome purpoſe. It is
but
C 2

( 20 )
but lately the Nectaria of Powers have been
known; and thoſe who did not take them
into the account of generation, could not ex-
plain it rightly.
In this Nectarium the ſingle courſe of vef-
fels terminates: and for its uſe they are
plainly ordained by nature.
When a flower of this plant is perfectly
open, if we look ſteadily into it, we ſhall
ſee near the baſe of each petal, between that
and the filament, a tuft of feathery matter.
See Pl. 1. fig. 1. There are fix of theſe tufts,
and they are the parts here treated of: but
the filaments, in every view, hide ſome of
them. To obtain a better fight of them,
the flower ſhould be cut off tranſverſely at
the upper part of its baſe, juſt where it be-
gins to divide into petals : thus the petals
and filaments being removed, theſe tufts
will appear very diſtinctly. See Pl. 1. fig. 2.
THEY

( 21 )
They are colourleſs in themſelves, but
they appear greeniſh from the green baſe of
the flower which is feen thro' them: they are
ſo large and obvious, that one wonders they
have not before been obſerved : they are
equal in number to the petals; but they do
not riſe from theſe ; but in the very clefts
formed by their divifions.
The deeper the parts lie, the more care
is required to trace them: but the fingle
courſe of fibres may be followed from the
root up to theſe fix bodies, in which they
terminate; as the veſſels of the outer rind
to the ſcabbard of the flowers. I have many
times done this happily.
One of theſe parts, ſeparated from the
baſe of the flower, I have repreſented in Pl. 2.
as it appears before the microſcope. The body
of it is hollowed, and the top and fides are
jagged. The veſſels at the baſe have formed a
continuous ſubſtance; but in theſe parts
they ſeparate again, and they terminate in
C3
rounded

( 22 )
rounded and cloſed ends, without the leaſt
aperture any where.
A microſcope of a ſingle lens is beſt for
this examination; and I ſcarce know a more
pleaſing object. The whole reſembles a piece
of fine white coral, but that 'tis pellucid as
water. See Pl. II.
When the ſtalk of the plant is cut tranſ-
verſely, a great quantity of watery juice
comes from the mouths of the other veffels :
but from theſe, in particular, there iſſues a
more tough and clammy fluid. This is of a
peculiar nature : it is the ſame in the tufts
themſelves : It is moſt tenacious juſt as the
flower is opening; and is at that time alſo
moſt abundant.
Thus terminate the veſſels of the third
ſeries,
CH A P.

(Pl.2.
22.
Page
he
The NECTARIUM
of
the AMARYLLIS.
I Hill del et Sculp.

-

( 23 )
CH A P. VI.
THE COURSE, TERMINATION, AND
USE OF THE FLESHY SUBSTANCE OF
THE STALK.
THE
HE plant being thus cleared of its
outer and inner rind, with which
laſt this ſingle courſe of veſſels alſo uſually
comes off, the inner parts of the ſtalk and
foot-ftalks appear diſtinctly. The petals and
the tufts at the baſe of the flower being
now alſo removed, there remain only the Fi-
LAMENTS and STYLE, in which the veſſels
of this inner part of the ſtalk can terminate.
To trace theſe, the whole foot-ſtalk muſt
be ſplit into thin pieces, and the baſe of the
flower with it.
We have ſeen diſtinctly where the inner
rind has run up into the petal of the flower ;
ſwelling in thickneſs, and becoming pale,
firſt inwardly, and then entirely; and from
that paleneſs red.
C4
THE

( 24 )
THE fleſhy ſubſtance, which conſti-
tutes the principal part of the ſtalk, is
eaſily traced along the foot-ſtalk of the
flower within the green rind ; making alſo
its principal ſubſtance. Thence it follows the
rind, and the ſingle courſe of veſſels round
the rudiment of the fruit : and at its top
terminates moſt diſtinctly in the fix fila-
ments of the flower.
BETWEEN theſe and the baſe of the ſtyle,
there is an abſolute ſpace: and the continu-
ation of the fleſhy ſubſtance of the ſtalk up
the filaments, is moſt diſtinctly ſeparated
from that organ.
The filaments plainly have their origin
at the head of the rudiment of the fruit:
they run looſe and free with their true rounded
outline on the inner part : on the outer, they
are flatted, and are preſſed cloſe towards the
thickened portion of the outer rind, where it
begins to form the petal. But they are diſtinctly
and

( 25 )
and moſt plainly ſeparated from it by the
ſingle courſe of veffels. Theſe accompanying
the FILAMENTs and baſe of the Petals ſo
far, and ſerving as an union between them,
terminate juſt above the part where the fila-
ments ſeparate, in thoſe tufted bodies be-
fore named,
The fleſhy ſubſtance of the ſtalk being
at this part diveſted of its three coverings,
and even of the pith within, forms itſelf
into fix afſemblages of a rounded outline,
and is continued in each nearly to the length
of two inches: theſe are the FILAMENTS.
Each filament grows ſmaller toward the
top; and at its ſummit becomes indeed ex-
tremely flender.
From this point the membrane, which
had covered it throughout its courſe, dilates,
and forms a regular, large and oblong An-
THERA, white at the firſt, and conſiderably
long : afterwards ſhorter and yellow.
THE

( 26 )
The filament has no hollow, but is com-
poſed ſolely and diſtinctly of the fleſhy part
of the ſtalk: and the ſame veſſels are
ſeen in the ſtalk and here.
THE ANTHERA, examined with a microf-
cope, appears of a regular and beautiful
Structure. It is compoſed of two tubes, laid
cloſe to one another, each having a groove
in the middle. Its outer rind is white, thick
and ſpungy; and the two cells are full of a
yellow powder, which is the farina. See
Pl. III. fig. 1. 2.
When the anthera is ripe, each of its
tubes burſts at the groove, and the two fides
ſeparate and turn back. Fig. 3. In this ope-
ration the fpungy ſubſtance of the tubes con-
tracts itſelf; by which they become ſhorter :
fig. 4. and the yellow colour is owing to the
grains of the yellow farina with which they
are covered. If the flowers be carefully
watched, this is eaſily ſeen; for the operation
lafts in each anthera two or three hours.
I

PL.3.
Page.26.
00
Fig
. 4
4.
Fig. 1
T
.
Fig.2.
Fig. 3.
FILAMENTS of the AMARYLLIS with their ANTHERA.
Till del et Sculp


( 27 )
I have obſerved, that the fleſhy ſubſtance
of the ſtalk is compoſed of fibrous as well
as vaſcular parts ; and I have found by ma-
nifold experience, that this is the eſſential
part of plants : all the buds being produc-
tions of it thro' the rind. This has been at-
tributed to the medullary or central ſub-
ſtance, but experiments ſhew otherwiſe.
a
The tubes of the ANTHERA, which
are of a looſe ſubſtance, are formed of the
fibroſe portion of this fleſhy part of the
ſtalk; and the farina of the vaſcular.
The formation of this is the great object
of nature in the growth of plants: and the
preſent ſubject affords an opportunity of
tracing it moſt plainly.
All the particles of the farina are of a re-
gular figure and conſtruction. They are the ex-
treme terminations of thoſe veífels which form
the fleſhy ſubſtance of the ſtalk: and each of
theſe terminates in a minute rudiment of a fu-
ture

( 28 )
tureplant, carefully and elegantly ſurrounded
with membranes; which defend and preſerve
it till it comes into the feed-veffel.
This is a new doctrine: but it is founded
on the plain conſtruction of the parts. That
none have eſtabliſhed it before, is owing
to no one's having purſued the courſe of the
ſeveral veſſels in plants with attention; or ob-
ſerved this moſt effential ſubſtance, the FA-
RINA, with ſufficient magnifying powers.
С НА Р.

( 29 )
CH A P. VI.
OF THE FARINA OF THE PLANT.
EACH grain of the Farina in this
plant is an oval body, compoſed of
three parts, a membranaceous covering, a
pulpy matter, and a ſimple but continuous
internal ſubſtance.
EXAMINED with a powerful microſcope,
each grain is found to adhere by its larger
end to the inner ſurface of the tube of the
ANTHERA: there is an opening where it thus
adheres; and this is continued along the body
in form of a flight furrow, to the other end.
When the farina is examined by the re-
flecting microſcope in water, the membrana-
ceous covering appears tranſparent, and the
contained ſubſtance is continued along its
whole length: but it is not nearly equal to
the breadth of the covering.
:
Ат

( 30 )
At the lower end of this is ſeen, as it
were, a little bulb, where it adhered to the
anthera: and from this is continued a ſingle
waved leaf, grafly and long. See Pl. IV.fig. 1.
This is the rudiment of the future plant:
it is the extreme termination of the vaſcular
part of the fleſhy ſubſtance of the root, and
ſtalk; which never terminate any otherwiſe.
a
AROUND this minute plant there is col-
lected a vaſt quantity of tough and ſemipel-
lucid matter in globules; and it is generally
cloſer preſſed at the top than elſewhere, be-
cauſe the farina is there narrower; ſo that
it ſometimes reſembles a ſecond bulb. Fig.2.
This is the original appearance of the glo-
bule of farina: but when it has lain ſome-
time in water, it thus prepares for burſting.
The whole globule grows ſhorter, and
the included plant, with its pulpy matter,
is drawn into a ſmaller compaſs. Fig 3.
and 4. Soon after, the globule burſts along
1
the

Pl. 4.
Page 30
2.
Fig.
Fig.se
و برادر
3
Frig. 4
Shigs
Farina of the Amaryllis
wat

U.
OP

( 31 )
the furrow, and the rudiment of the future
plant, together with its pulpy matter, comes
out of it. Fig. 5.
This happens in the courſe of nature; as
well as in water before the microſcope: and
we ſhall ſee preſently what becomes of the
incloſed ſubſtance. Firſt it will be proper
to underſtand perfectly the thing itſelf.
The extreme growth of a plant is thus
found to be the rudiment of another plant
of the ſame kind : this is encloſed in a mem-
brane, which, I think, is double; and is
placed within a tube at the extreme part
of the plant.
If the rudiment were not thus defended,
its tender ſubſtance would wither as ſoon
as it was formed.
ALONG the ſtalk, juſt over the fleſhy part
from which this minute rudiment is produced,
we ſee a peculiar courfe of vefſels fecreting
a

( 32 )
a tough matter, differing from the other
juices of the plant.
These veſſels terminate in the NECTARIA
at the baſe of the filaments : and thoſe NEC-
:
TARIA are compoſed of veſſels cloſed at their
ends ; in which this tough juice is perfected.
ز
THESE veſſels, we have ſeen, communi-
cate with thoſe of theFILAMENTS: therefore
the tough juice they contain is delivered into
the veſſels of the FILAMENTS, and is fo.
Carried up to the ANTHERÆ.
The membrane or bladder, containing
the rudiment of the plant, is much too
large for that minut. original : this is de-
figned by nature to give room to a pecu-
liar ſubſtance intended to be ſpread about it
for its protection, and defence.
This peculiar ſubſtance is the tough juice,
ſecreted in the NECTARIA or extremities of the
ſingle courſe of veſſels: and this being delivered
from them into the veſſels of the filament, is
carried up thro' them to the ANTHERÆ and
de-

( 33 )
delivered into the globule of farina, at that part
where it adheres to the inner coat of the tube.
This tough juice is true fluid wax. It is
well known that bees collect their wax from
the Antheræ of flowers ; and this is the ori-
ginal ſubſtance. They feed upon the globu-
les of farina ; the vegetable rudiment ſerves
them as nouriſhment; and this tough ſub-
ſtance is diſcharged again at their mouths,
and being thus ſeparated from the minute
plant and its juices, it is true wax.
No ſubſtance could be ſo proper for
defence of the rudiment of the plant; for
this is tough and d ule, ſo that it will paſs
with it thro' the neceſſary channels; and not
ſeparate from it: and it cannot be diffolved,
and waſh'd off from it, becauſe wax is in-
diffoluble in water.
Thus is the new plant produced from the
extreme part of the old: and thus it is en-
cloſed and defended. But this membrane
would ſoon ſhrivel; and this pulp of
waxy matter decay; and the young plant
D
would

( 34 )
would be incapable of preſervation, till the
induſtry of man, or accidents of nature,
committed it to the ground. It is, therefore,
lodged afterwards in the feed; and there de-
fended ſufficiently.
BEFORE we advance to this laſt conſide-
ration, it may not be improper to obſerve,
that this conſtruction of the farina, tho' dif-
ferent from what former authors have de-
ſcribed, does not contradict the truth of their
repreſentations
They ſay the globule of farina burſts,
and diſcharges a quantity of atoms : the
waxy ſubſtance, not mixing with the juices
of the plant, which are watery, always ap-
pears compoſed of minute and ſeparate par-
ticles, even in the body of the globule ;
and when it is diſcharged into the wa-
ter, in which the farina is laid before the
microſcope, it appears ſtill more diſunited.
Theſe little particles were, perhaps, what
they have called atoms; and they did not
obſerve the rudiment within.
I
C H A P.

(35)
CH A P. VI.
Of The Course, USE, AND TERMINA-
TION OF THE Pith.
HE Pith is the innermoſt ſubſtance
of a plant,
of whatſoever nature or
conſtruction that be.
THE
In the fibres of the root of this Ama-
ryllis, it forms the central part, and it is
like the other portions of the root, conti-
nued
up
into the ſtalk: but this ſtalk being
hollow, it only forms the inner lining of it.
'Tis placed under or within the fleſhy ſub-
ſtance which terminates in the filaments;
and it forms the ſtyle and the inner coat of
the ſeed-veſſel; which is, indeed, a conti-
nuation only of the ſame ſubſtance,
The four other coats of the plant being
laid open, or by a careful maceration re-
moved, this central matter appears : and we
may purſue its courſe eaſily thro' the plant,
from
D 2

( 36 )
from the extreme fibres of the root, to the
ſtigma or head of the ſtyle.
The others, by degrees, leave it; termi-
nating in the ſeveral parts we have named :
and its final courſe, under covert of any
them, is in the rudiment of the feed-
veffel.
a
HAVING made the inner coat of this, it
contracts itſelf into a kind of neck in the top
of that rudiment: and this being continued
in length, forms the ſtyle; which accompa-
nies the filaments a little way, but then
droops under them, and exceeding them in
length, terminates in a ſtigma or head, di-
vided into three rounded parts.
СНАР.

( 37 )
CH A P. VII.
The CONSTUCTION OF THE STYLE OF
THIS AMARYLLIS.
THE
1
3
HE central ſubſtance in this plant is
every where looſe and ſpungy; com-
poſed of large veſſels, and abounding with a
watery juice.
The ſtructure is the ſame in the ſtyle:
this is looſe, ſpungy, tender, and watery ;
and is only covered with a thin membrane.
a
It has been thought eſſential to the fæ-
cundation of the feeds in plants, that the
ſtyle ſhould be hollow: many have been
perplexed at not finding it fo; and ſome, to
the ſcandal of philofophy, have figured hol-
low ſtyles, where they did not find them,
to favour their fyftems.
D 3
IN

( 38 )
In this plant the ſtructure is eaſily traced,
and it is highly elegant. The ſtyle has not
an abſolute cavity, but the purpoſe of ſuch
a one is plainly anſwered ; and we ſee how.
a
The ſtigma or head of the ſtyle, which
is the extreme part or termination of the
pith of the plant, viewed with a microſcope,
appears compoſed of three rounded parts, re-
ſembling irregular ſegments of ſpheres : and
the whole ſurface of theſe is covered with
prominent tubercles white as ſnow. See
Pl. V. fig. 1.
و
The general colour of the ſtyle is crim-
fon; and ſuch is the outer part of each of
theſe diviſions of the head; but in the
midſt of each is a white fpungy ſubſtance.
The prominent particles on the verge of
each diviſion of the ſtigma are cloſed at their
ends, and even thickened in a clavated man-
ner : but thoſe which riſe from the white
central part of each diviſion are open: they
are

P2.5.
Pag. 38
The Sigma of the Amaryllis e sugen
del et Sculp.


( 39 )
are the mouths of ſo many tubes, and they
are larger than the others.
The open mouths of theſe are wide
enough to admit, with eaſe, one of the mi-
nute rudiments lodged in each grain of the
farina; with its pulp of waxy matter about it.
The three general paſſages from the ſe-
parate portions of the ſtigma, unite at a ſmall
diſtance below that part, and from one com-
mon paſſage of the ſame kind; which may
be diſtinguiſhed in a tranſverſe ſection of any
part of the ſtyle. See PI.V. fig. 2. And when
that organ is opened longitudinally, with due
care, this paſſage thews itſelf in its ſingle
ſtate along the ſtyle, with its divifion into
three branches for the three parts of the ſtig-
In the lower part, it does not termi-
nate with the reſt of the ſtyle, but is con-
tinued in form of a column, thro' the centre
of the ſeed-veſſel, every where united to the
rudiments of the ſeeds.
ma,
a
D 4
THIS

( 40 )
This central part of the ſtyle is formid of
the largeſt veſſels of the pith of the plant,
with ſome few air tubes intermixed, and a
very ſmall number of hard fibres.
As the vaſcular part of the fleſhy ſubſtance
of the plant ſwelled out into vefſels or
membranaceous bladders in the antheræ ; in
the ſame manner the vaſcular part of this
pith, where it runs like a column down the
centre of the feed-veſſel, ſwells out on every
fide into the ſame kind of bladders : and
theſe are the ſhells of feeds. Pl. VI.
All this may be diſtinctly ſeen in the
new form'd rudiment; and the only difference
between theſe ſhells of the feeds and the
membranes of the farina is, that they are
more firm, and have about them ſomewhat
of a ſpungy ſubſtance.
СНАР.

PL.6.
Pag. 40.
The Rudiment of the Seed Veſsellepane sot se za
del et Sculp


( 41 )
CHAP VIII.
The Manner of IMPREGNATION,
T
HIS is the ſtructure and conforma-
tion of the AMARYLLIS here de-
fcribed: and thus the method of impreg-
nation is eaſily ſeen. Like all the other
operations of nature, being truly under-
ſtood, it is found much more plain and
fimple than men of contemplation had ima-
gined.
The fleſhy ſubſtance of the root and Italk
is the eſſential part of the plant: its growth
is the growth of the plant; and nature has
for this reaſon lodged it under three cover-
ings from the outer air, and under the de-
fence of a fourth within the hollow ſtalk.
a
This part, in the common growth and en-
creaſe of plants, continues, and protrudes it-
ſelf downwards in the fibres of roots, and
upwards in ſtalks and branches : this puſhes
out

( 42 )
out ſmall rudiments of the entire plant in
form of buds along the branches; and this
terminates in the ſame kind of rudiments,
tho' extremely minute, in the ANTHERÆ On
the heads of the FILAMENTS: theſe parts
being the final terminations of its growth.
The rudiments, which this fleſhy ſubſtance
fends out in form of buds on the branches,
åre defended by many films; and theſe,
which terminate its growth in the Antheræ,
have their membranaceous covering alſo; and
within it a pulpy matter, indoffoluble, as
we have ſhewn, in water, yet eaſily ductile.
feafons vary;
THESE are too tender to be truſted to the
air ; and the courſe of nature being irregular
in their falling to the ground, as winds and
this is the method of their pre-
ſervation.
bu
When the flower is newly opened, the
Antheræ are long and white, therefore they
are entire ; and the ſtigma is ſmall, flattiſh,
and dry.
WHEN

( 43 )
When the Antheræ burſt, the ſtigma
fwells; its three diviſions become more pro-
minent; and the white particles riſe higher
above their ſurface.
j
them;
The Antheræ contract and harden foon
after they are opened ; and by this means
the grains of farina are rendered looſe upon
and the leaſt motion of the air fhakes
them off. Multitudes are ſcatter'd and loſt;
but a great many fall upon the ſtigma : and
whatever falls there, is detained by its rough
and froſted ſurface.
The top of the ſtigma is always moiſt;
and we ſee under the microſcope the effect
of water on the grains of farina : they
burſt in it; and diſcharge their contents.
Ir is the ſame when they fall upon the
ftigma, loaded as it conftantly is at that time,
with moiſture. They burſt, and there thus if-
ſues out of each grain of farina a minute plant,
fur
a

( 44 )
furrounded every way with a tough, ductile,
and indiſſoluble ſubſtance.
.
ز
The mouth of a tube is open to receive
this; and the courſe of the tube is with an
equal diameter through a ſpungy part in the
centre of the ſtyle.
The inſide of the tube is moiſt, and the
;
minute rudimentthus received into it is forced
along by the ſame power by which leaves
and all other parts of plants imbibe dews,
and tranſmit the moiſture inwards,
The minute plant thus carried thro' the
length of the ſtyle, and into that part of it
which runs like a column down the centre
of the ſeed-veſſel, can be forced no farther,
for there is no more paffage: this fpungy
column has no communication but with the
ſtyle itſelf. We have ſeen that on each ſide
its vaſcular part has formed a kind of ſhells
or bladders: the paſſages into theſe are open;
and

( 45 )
and the minute rudiment is naturally forced
into one or other of them.
In this manner, the firſt grains of farina,
which fall on the ſtyle, deliver their rudi-
ments of plants to the tubes; and all the
ſhells of the ſeeds are, in ſucceſſion, occupied.
As ſoon as this is done, the ſtyle having
performed its office, fades: and all that ap-
pears to receive any nouriſhment from the
root, is the ſeed-vefſel. The ſhells of the feeds
become thickened ; and a farinaceous ſub-
ſtance, formed of the drying juices of the
vaſcular part of the pith, ſurrounds the mi-
nute plant in that covering : thus is the ſeed
compleated, and vegetation in the plant then
ftops entirely.
a
Each thus feed contains a minute plant, ſo
well defended, that it can bear, like that in
a bulbous root taken out of the earth, the
common injuries of the ſeaſons : and when
committed to ground at a time when there
is

( 46 )
is due heat and moiſture, it grows as the
rudiment in the root; and in the ſame
courſe forms its own ſeeds again.
Tils, by the preſent example, appears to
be the courſe of nature in the production of
plants: and if it ſhall be confirmed in others,
we ſhall have no need any more to have re-
courſe to elaſtick atoms, or impregnating
air : what is called the production of new
plants will be found nothing more than
the continued growth of the old : the rudi-
ment in the ſeed being only a piece of the
fleſhy ſubſtance of the ſtalk delivered into
that part from the globule of farina; and with
the requiſite heat and moiſture continuing
to grow
F I N I S.



A
M E T H O D
OF PRODUCING
DOUBLE FLOWERS
FROM
S I N G L E,
BY A
Regular Courſe of CULTURE.
Illuſtrated with FIGURES.
The SECOND EDITION.
LONDON:
Printed for R. BALDWIN in Paternoſter-row.
MDCCLIX.


DEDICATION.
To the Celebrated
Dr. HALLER.
SIR,
HOT is not that I ſuppoſe my weak
voice can return the honour you
have been pleaſed to do me, by
the mention you have made,
in your immortal works, of ſome of
my attempts towards the advancement
of botanical knowledge : that were a
thought as vain, as it were idle : but
where returns are impoſſible, there may
yet be gratitude. I addreſs my acknow-
ledgements to you in this flight Treatiſe :
wherein,
A2

DEDICATION.
wherein, whatever may be wanting, there
yet is TRUTH: and ſome of it has not
been known before.
:
The World will pay a due regard to
theſe doctrines, when they fee I dare ad-
dreſs them to your experienced and diſ-
cerning eye : and I have ſome pride in
dedicating the reſearch to the eternal me-
mory of thoſe new lights which your
genius and indefatigable labours have
thrown, not on this ſcience only, but on
all philoſophy.
I am,
With the moſt perfect Refpect,
SIR,
Your obedient
OV
and humble Servant.
London,
Fan. 4, 1759.
J. HILL
HO

( 5 )
ESPACE
bre
Τ Η Ε
PRODUCTION
OF
DOUBLE FLOWERS.
HE raiſing double flowers is one
of the great articles in the gar-
dener's and floriſt's profefſions.
'Tis often done: but none knows
how. The practice by which theſe ele-
gant plants are obtained from the ſingle, is
little different from that by which, in other
kinds, fingle riſe from ſingle in fucceffion;
and the procedure is merely mechanical :
the gardener practiſes in his age, what he
ſaw done in his youth; and he expects the
fame ſucceſs, without farther thought.
IT

(6)
a
It would be happy if the change thus
produced in a few plants could be extend-
ed to many: and perhaps this is not be-
yond the human reach. To attain the
end, it muſt be attempted regularly; and
in order to that, the ſubject muſt be firſt
underſtood.
We muſt know by what means and in
what manner nature gives this doubleneſs
to flowers, in the inſtances already ſeen,
before we can attempt rationally to aſſiſt
in her operations upon others: but when
that is diſcovered, the juſt grounds of ſuch
an undertaking will be known.
The ſtalk of every plant is compoſed
(as has been clearly ſhewn) of ſix diſtinct
ſubſtances; ſurrounding one another in a
regular manner: theſe are the outer bark,
the inner rind, the blea, a vaſcular ſeries,
the fleſhy ſubſtance, and the pith. The
roots are compoſed of theſe; they are con-
tinued thence up the ſtalk ; and from one
or other of them are formed the ſeveral
parts of flowers.
و
THERE

(7)
THERE is no way to underſtand what
the doubleneſs of a flower is, or of what
it conſiſts, until this ſtructure of the whole
plant be underſtood.
a
As all the parts of a flower are continua-
tions of one or other of theſe ſubſtances,
all doubleneſs in flowers muſt be owing to
the luxuriance of ſome of them: nothing
new is produced, nor can be; only ſome
original part is extended.
The firſt ſtep towards underſtanding
the proceſs of nature, is to examine which
of the proper parts of a flower has afforded
the luxuriant growth : We are then to
fee to what original portion of the plant,
that is to which of the ſix ſubſtances
whereof the whole conſiſts, that part be-
longs: when we know this, we are to en-
quire by experiments, what nouriſhment,
and what method of culture moſt favour
the growth of that part: and, if we find
this, we ſhall diſcover the great ſecret.
We ſhall thus know how at our plea-
ſure to double the flowers of many plants;
and
1

( 8 )
and to produce that luxuriance in degree
as well as kind.
So
In this courſe it is propoſed to purſue
the ſubject in the preſent enquiry : deter-
mining the firſt attempt to a ſingle plant.
There is no other way to avoid perplexity;
and if we ſuccede in this, it will be eaſy
to continue the ſame reaſoning, and the
fame practice to others.
It will be moſt uſeful to ſelect a plant,
in which the parts are large and plain; and
one, of which we can be ſure, during the
ſucceſſive years of trial. I ſhall for theſe
reaſons chuſe a Tulip. The organs in
this flower are all large, the doubleneſs is
not too complex, and the root being yearly
taken up, we can always be ſure of having
the ſame plant.
The Tulip is not ſelected as an inſtance
for its beauty; for it is leſs improved by
doubleneſs than many other flowers: but
becauſe the parts being few, large and di-
ftinct, the courſe of nature may be traced
in it eaſily
GAR

UN
OF
dict

PL.O.
THE IRREGULAR FULL TULIP.
I Hill delo it Sado.

(9)
GARDENERS deſpiſe double Tulips; and
if no better could be produced by art than
ſuch as offer themſelves to them by acci-
dent, they wou'd have reaſon. They ſee
the CLERIMONT with a ragged multipli-
city of ill ſhaped petals; or the common
breeder reduced to a dwarf and edg’d with
white, with a wild cluſter of like petals, and
the filaments irregularly diſpoſed among
them; or with half formed petals growing
from the edge of ſome of the filaments, and
buttons upon the irregular extremities of
others. This is all they fee of doubleneſs in
Tulips; and this riſes wildly. See PLATE(0)
a
a
But if doubleneſs in a Tulip can be
produced in a regular manner, the new
leaves rendered as well ſhap'd as the old,
and the ſame excellence of colour pre-
ſerved in theſe, as in the ſingle, doubtleſs
the florift will receive it into his liſt of
beauties. That this may be done appears
very probable; and the inſtances here
produced thew there will be great beauty
in the flowers : not only in their perfect
ſtate of doubleneſs, but in the feveral ad-
vances towards it. The attempting this
regularly, is a work of time, becauſe the
B
Tulip
a

( 10 )
Tulip is a ſlow grower from ſeed; but by
the flowers here produced there is reaſon
to believe it will ſucceed : and the benefit
will not end there. Nature proceeds
nearly alike in her ſeveral operations, and
what profpers in one plant probably will
not fail in another.
The origin of the Tulip flower is this.
The fleſhy ſubſtance of the ſtalk terminating
in the antheræ, there forms a minute plant,
or rudiment of a plant in each grain of the
farina : this is received into the ſtigma ;
and thence conveyed by a ſhort courſe to
the feed veſſel; where it is lodg'd in the
yet empty hull of a ſeed *: it is there
cloathed with a farinaceous ſubſtance, ſe-
creted for that uſe in thoſe veſſels; and,
the feed hardening, it is perfect.
a
This feed being fown, the rudiment
of the plant expands by means of the heat
and moiſture ; and its ſeveral parts grow-
ing, downwards into fibres, and upwards
into a ſtalk and leaves, the Tulip is pro-
duced, which in its perfect ſtate we are
now to examine. See plate 1.
AS
* This is explained at large in Outlines of vege-
table generation.
a

PLL
COMMON TULIP.
I Hill delin it Sculo

CH

(11)
As the rudiment in the farina is
very
tender, it takes a long time in expanding
all its minute parts, and growing to per-
fection : and to defend the more delicate
organs of the flower the bulb is formed.
This is not the root, tho' it be vulgarly fo
called, but is a germ or bud, ſurrounded
by a number of coats, and films like thoſe
which cover the young leaves in buds of
trees.
These films are produced or thrown
off from the outer bark of the fibres;
which are the real proper and only roots :
and from the innermoſt of theſe films
proceed the leaves.
The regular continuation of the four
other ſubſtances is in the ſtalk and flowers:
and it is performed by nature in this
.
manner.
The outer bark which is thin and de-
licate, is defended and kept moiſt towards
the baſe of the plant by the lower ends of
the leaves, which ſurround the ſtalk : but
higher up, where it is naked, it becomes
harder and ſomewhat thicker.
Іт
B 2

( 12 )
IT runs up to the ſummit of the ſtalk,
and there forming three thick knots or
clufters, is continued through them into
the three outer petals of the flower.
Theſe are formed entirely of it, and in
theſe its whole fubſtance terminates.
In plants which have a cup under the
flower, the outer bark of the ſtalk forms
that cup, and terminates in it: the ſecond,
or inner rind forming the petals, by a
continuation into the flower.
3
It has not been enough regarded; but
nature where ſhe gives no cup to the
flower, always allows fomething analogous.
The Tulip conſiſts of fix petals : of theſe
the three outer are harder than the three
inner, and ſerve as a defence to them,
They are a kind of cup to the three des
licate ones within,
The outer bark of the ſtalk conſtitutes
theſe three petals entirely; and it is there
loft. When the flower is newly opened,
it has the property of the leaves of fleep-
ing plants; fhutting itſelf together in the
dark,

( 13 )
dark, whether it be night or an artificial
gloom; and opening again in the light.
ز
THE cluſter of fibres at the baſe of each
outer petal perform this : They are the
hinges on which the motion is made; and
the delicate inner petals are forced toge-
ther by them. The fibres which form
theſe cluſters are white; and are as ſtrong
as raw filk.
:
VARIOUS accidents influence the in-
creaſe or diminution of particular parts in
the compoſition of plants, but with this
outer bark we have nothing to do in the
preſent reſearch : The doubleneſs of the
Tulip is what we enquire into, and that
ariſes only from the fleſhy ſubſtance of
the ſtalk. The outer bark terminating
in the three exterior petals, we are now
clear of it.
In diffecting the Tulip ſtalk tranſverſely
and along, the next ſubſtance ſeen under
this is the inner rind. This is greenith, but
tending to white in the inner ſurface : It
continues its uninterrupted courſe to the
flower, and there forms the three inner
petals.

( 14 )
petals. Theſe have their origin plainly
from this interior rind; and the fibres
may be traced down from their baſes to
the ſtalk, with great eaſe.
This coat of the plant terminates plainly
and ſolely in theſe; and conſiſting of fim-
ple and not numerous parts, it is inca-
pable of any increaſe, or diviſion, in the
flower.
The courſe of examination ſhould be
to remove the ſeveral parts thus fepa-
rated, as ſoon as we have thoroughly
examined them: therefore the two rinds
of the plant and the two ſeries of petals
being now cleared away, there appears
as the outer ſubſtance the vaſcular courſe,
or third portion of the ſubſtance of the
plant. This is extremely delicate and
ſmall in the Tulip. In a tranſverſe fec-
tion of the ſtalk it appears only as a line
ſeparating the greeniſh inner rind from
the white fleſhy ſubſtance of the ſtem ;
and in a longitudinal fection it reſembles
a mere membrane.
a
The microſcope ſhews that it conſiſts
only of a ſingle row of veffels : it ter-
minates
a

( 15 )
minates juſt within the baſes of the inner
petals ; and there forms an irregular line
nearly hexagonal, with ſmall riſings be-
tween the baſes of the petals.
m
;
In many plants this part riſes up con-
ſpicuouſly in the flower ; forming what is
called a nectarium. The large nectaria
in the Hellebore are formed of it; and
that tufted ſubſtance in the Amaryllis,
examined in a preceding work * Whe-
ther the termination of this part riſes above
the ſurface of the flower, or lies with-
in its compaſs, and hid under the ſkin
of the baſes of the petals, its ſtructure at
the termination is the ſame. The veſſels
ſwell and are clos'd at their extremities ;
and they communicate with no part but
the baſes of the filaments. This is plainly
and evidently the caſe in the preſent in-
ſtance; and therefore probably in all plants
this vaſcular courſe ſerves the ſame pur-
poſe; ſecreting a waxey humour, and giv-
ing it to the veſſels of the filaments, for de-
fending the embryo plants in the farina.
All theſe parts being cleared away we
come to the fourth in order, which is the
fleshy
* Outlines of vegetable generation.

( 16 )
fleſhy Subſtance of the ſtalk. This we
may trace with eaſe up to the filaments
themſelves, which are formed abſolutely
and ſolely of it: and from obſerving its
ſtructure we ſhall find the reaſon why
Tulips are doubled, in the manner to be
repreſented in the fucceeding plates, more
eaſily than many other flowers.
DOUBLENESS in various flowers riſes
from a luxuriance of different parts : In
Columbines from what are called the nec-
taria; which are either ſimply increaſed
in number, or converted as it were into
petals; and in the Narciſſus kind, ſome-
times by an increaſe and diviſion of the
nectarium, the petals remaining as they
are naturally, fix in number; and ſome-
times by an abſolute increaſe in the number
of the petals : But in the Tulip it is al-
together otherwiſe; the doubleneſs of this
flower ariſes from the filaments and no
other part; and is accompliſhed in the ſuc-
ceeding gradations.
We ſee by the diſſection of the plant,
that the filaments are formed of the
fleſhy ſubſtance of the ſtalk, or more pro-
4
perly

( 17 )
perly ſpeaking, they are the termination
of that part. During its courſe up the
ſtalk it has been defended by the fur-
rounding ſubſtances; but in the filaments
which are expoſed to the air the mem-
branes inveſting it become more firm,
and its ſubſtance more compact : that is
all the difference.
This fleſhy ſubſtance is remarkably
thick in the ſtalk of the Tulip. Its
quantity is greater than in any other
plant I have examined : and hence ariſes
the natural tendency of the Tulip to dou-
bleneſs ; from a luxuriance of the fila-
ments.
THESE are in the ſtate of nature very
thick in this flower, and of a peculiar
ſhape and conſtitution: they are flatted,
tho'irregularly, and are edged and triangu-
lated; and they are uſually coloured. In all
this they reſemble petals more than the
filaments of the generality of flowers ;
which are uſually rounded and ſolid.
HESE in the Tulip ſhew a very pe-
culiar conſtruction when cut open, and
с
ex-

( 18 )
examined by the microſcope. They are
found to conſiſt of two parts, a ſolid cen-
tral yellowiſh matter, and a coat or ſhell
of a filmy ſubſtance ſurrounding it. This
is looſely and eaſily ſeparated from it.
a
THE thickneſs of the filaments ariſes
from that of the fleſhy ſubſtance of the
ſtalk, whereof they are ſo many conti-
nuations: and it renders them liable to
alter their form by farther ſwelling, if
an increaſe of that part favours ſuch
change: their peculiar ſtructure alſo makes
it eaſy for them to ſpread into a refem-
blance of petals, the membranes cover-
ing them being much of that nature.
Thus the doubleneſs of the Tulip is
produced only by a luxuriant growth of
its filaments; which in that ſtate loſe
their
proper nature, and become a kind of
petals. This flower is moſt liable to fuch
doubleneſs, becauſe the fleſhy part of the
ſtalk is thick; and plainly the doubleneſs
is owing to an increaſe in the quantity
of that part. The practical leflon fol-
lows hence plainly. Certain circumſtances
in the culture and management of plants
favour
I

( 19 )
favour the increaſe of particular parts in
their conſtruction: the way therefore to
produce double Tulips, and to increaſe
the degree of their doubleneſs, is to dif-
cover what circumſtance, what foil, man-
ner or management it is that thickens
this fleſhy part in fome degree: and to
apply it early, and purſue it thoroughly.
What may be done in this caſe we ſhall
thew by declaring what has been.
As we have on this occafion named the
four exterior coats of the Tulip-ſtalk, it
may be proper to ſay what becomes of
the pith, or innermoſt fubftarice. This is
continued to the rudiment of the feed-ver-
ſel, and terminates in it. That rudiment
with its ſtigma, for there is no ſtyle, are
formed of it entirely.
CH A P. II.
of the Progreſs of the Doubleneſs in the
TULIP.
HE TULIP in its natural ſtate, con-
fifts of fix petals, fix filaments, and
a rudiment of a ſeed veſſel, crowned with a
ſtigma, divided into three parts. See fig. 1.
THE
T
a
C 2

( 20 )
The three principal organs of flowers
are ſeen in it very diſtinct and plain, with
no additional part, (as in the caſe of thoſe
that have conſpicuous nectaria) nor any
interruption, as in double flowers.
When the Tulip alters from this plain
and natural ſtate, becoming double, the
courſe and progreſs of nature may be trac'd
in it, in five ſtages; and theſe naturally
ariſe in fucceffion one after another; the
doubleneſs increaſing each year from the
firſt.
But this, though natural, and uſual,
is not an invariable courſe: ſometimes a
Tulip from being ſingle, burſts at once
into full doubleneſs; ſometimes on the con-
trary when the change has been regularly
begun, it comes to a ſtand in the ſucceed-
ing year: and any double Tulip being
left neglected in the ground, will again
become ſingle.
When a large quantity of the feeds of
well chofen ſingle Tulips are fown, and the
plants are raiſed by proper care to flower-
ing, there will fometimes appear among
the

( 21 )
the number a few double ones the firſt
year of bloom : but this is rare; and they
are never perfect.
The full change is too great to be ex-
pected at once; for it is an old and true
maxim, that nature does nothing by leaps,
but all in a regular gradation.
a
AMONG the number of Tulips thus
raiſed, the greater part will be plain and
natural; but a nice and well inſtructed
eye
will ſee in ſome few, the firſt approach to
doubleneſs. Theſe are to be ſelected; and
they are thus known.
In the natural ſtate, the filaments are
raiſed in three blunt ridges, and are thick
in proportion to their breadth. In fome,
theſe filaments will have loſt the outer
ridge, or that at the back; and the whole
filament will be broader, thinner, and flatter
than uſual; and will begin to Thew a dif-
ferent colour, tending to that of the petals.
The antheræ alſo are in this caſe ſhorter.
This is the firſt approach which nature
makes to doubleneſs. This the floriſt is
to

( 22 )
mark; and the plants in which it ap-
pears are to have peculiar care in the fol-
lowing years.
THE ſeveral gradations from this to
perfect doubleneſs, are to be expected in
the five fucceeding ſeaſons.
Though the firſt approach towards
this ſtate in the Tulip be flight, and not di-
ſtinguiſhed, except by the inquiſitive eye;
the ſecond is conſiderable, and fufficiently
plain. In this the filaments are fo altered,
that if they did not ſtill ſupport their an-
theræ, they would not by the common eye
be known for ſuch, or called by that
name: they are indeed converted into a
kind of petals. They are thin like the
natural petals; and a uarter of an inch
in breadth : their colour alſo as well as
ſubſtance is that of the petals. They riſe
with a ſingle body, but at half their length
they ſplit. In the cleft of this divifion is
feated the anthera : and the two parts of
the divided filament are continued up-
wards in a moderate breadth, and in a
waved form. See Pl. 2.
THE

P1.2
THE FORKED TULIP,
I Hil delin et soup

را
از
OF
MICH

( 23 )
:
The anthera in this ſtate of the flower
is ſhorter, and leſs than naturally : but
it ſtill ripens a perfect farina. The ſeeds
of ſuch a Tulip ſeparate from all others will
be perfect; and being ſown, will ſucceed
very well. I name this particularly, be-
cauſe they are the fitteſt of all Tulips from
which to ſave feed for double flowers.
THOUGH the filaments in this ſtate of
doubleneſs have changed their form and
colour, their conſtruction remains the ſame
as at firſt: each is compoſed of two mem-
branes and a pulpy central ſubſtance; but
this laſt part is ſmaller in proportion than
in the natural Tulip. This ſeems to be the
matter which immediately feeds the an-
thera; and therefore the farina, though leſs
in quantity, yet is in this ſtate perfect.
The third degree of doubleneſs in the
Tulip extends the filament in breadth yet
farther, and ſtarves the anthera entirely :
therefore the flower is in this ſtate incapa-
ble of ripening feeds.
The Tulip now conſiſts of twelve real
petals: he who has trac'd the origin and ob-
ſerved

( 24 )
ſerved the courſe of the production, knows
that the fix inner ones are formed from fi-
laments; but to another they would appear
almoſt perfect as the reſt; only ſhorter and
nip'd at the top. Though they have been
form'd from filaments, they are now truly
petals. We learn by this that nature tho'
The regularly forms each part of the flower
from a peculiar coat of the plant, in her uſual
courſe; yet can make the expanſion of an-
other portion anſwer the ſame purpoſe.
In this ſtate of doubleneſs the original
petals of the Tulip ſtand in two ſeries, in
their natural order, three external and three
interior; the ſix additional petals form one
ſeries riſing within both: one in the cen-
ter of each perfect petal, as the filaments
roſe in their natural ſtate. See Pl. 3.
Each of theſe additional petals, for in
this condition of the flower they are abſo-
lutely ſuch, is nearly of the breadth of the
original ones, but not exactly of the ſame
form. There is now no deep ſplitting
or divifion into two parts at the top, as in
the former condition of doubleneſs, where
the anthera held its place in the center of
the cleft; but the ſummit of the petals
is

THE DOUBLE TULIP.
I Hill delin et Scalp


( 25 )
is variouſly way'd, and all that remains of
the appearance of an anthera,
an anthera, is a point of
a purple colour in the middle hollow of
each of theſe petals; formed of what would
have been the outer coat of the anthera.
And even this is ſometimes obliterated.
The form of theſe additional petals is
oblong, with ſufficient breadth to give a
regular appearance in the flower. Their
upper edge terminates variouſly; fome-
times they are pointed, uſually very ob-
tuſe; in ſome flowers wav'd, and in others
cut into deep inciſions.
THEIR ſubſtance and conſtruction ſtill
continue what they were in the filament;
and differ, tho' not greatly now, from thoſe
of the other petals. Each is compoſed of
two membranes, ſeparated by a pulpy mata
ter. This is the double Tulip.
The fourth gradation, or ſecond dou-
bleneſs in the Tulip, renders it ſo unlike
its firſt, or natural ſtate, and ſo nearly ob-
literates all appearance of the parts from
which the new petals have been formed,
that none, unleſs in this courſe of enquiry
could ſay whence it had proceeded.
D
IN

( 25 )
In this ſtate, or the TRIPLE TULIP,
there are four ſeries of petals: the two ou-
termoſt are natural, they conſiſt each of
three petals, and are what properly conſti-
tute the flower. The two other ſeries
conſiſt of ſix petals each, and theſe are
formed by a luxuriance of the filaments,
and an obliteration of the anthera, as in the
former inſtances: with the additional pe-
culiarity of their being ſplit. This conſti-
tutes them twelve in number, and as the
inner fix are formed of the anterior fides
of the filaments; they ſtand naturally for-
warder than the others: this diſtinguiſhes
the twelve into two ſeries. See Pl. 4.
To underſtand the conſtruction of this
flower perfectly, one muſt go back to the
natural ſtate of the filaments; from an
expanſion and luxuriance of which, all this
doubleneſs is ſtill formed.
We have ſeen in the original ſtate, they
are compoſed of a ſolid central part, ſur-
rounded by a membranous covering. In
the firſt ſtate towards doubleneſs in the
Tulip, the filament extends in breadth,
and this inner ſubſtance loſes ſomething of
its thickneſs; in the ſecond ſtage where
the
a

PL.4.
THE TRIPLE TULIP.
Hill delin et Sculp.


( 27 )
the anthera ſtands in the cleft of the ex-
tended filament, this inner ſubſtance is
ſtill more reduced ; in the third ſtage,
where the anthera is a thin line, this ſub-
ſtance is only a kind of membrane uniting
the two ſides of the new petal; and
fourthly, in this ſtate of tripleneſs it is a
mere dot. 'Tis the expanſion of the mem-
branous coat of the filaments which makes
the new petals: and the inner ſubſtance
has no uſe in this change. It before ſup-
plied the anthera : that was its purpoſe;
and while the anthera remained in the fe-
cond change, this ſubſtance remained alſo,
though in leſs than the original quantity.
In the ſucceeding ſtate, tho' it remained
in ſome ſmall degree, its uſe and office
were loſt; and in this triple condition of
the flower being wholly gone, the two
parts of the expanded filament, have no-
thing to unite or hold them together.
.
This third ſubſtance is naturally placed
between them, therefore they are not joined
to one another by any fibres or veſſels of
their own, except at the baſe; and the
third ſubſtance which kept them together
in the laſt mentioned degree, being now
D 2
gone,

( 28 )
gone, they ſeparate. Each ſide of the ex-
panded filament becomes a new petal; and
thus twelve are added to the flower.
In a ſucceeding year each filament ſplits
into three inſtead of two broad petals, and
thus forms the QUADRUPLE TULIP; See
Pl. 5: and one year more makes the PER-
FECT FULL TULIP. In the quadruple
kind there remains a ſmall mark of the an-
thera on each new petal, but in the perfect
double flower there is none. See Pl. 6.
Shen
SY
CH A P. III.
Of Doubleneſs in tbe VERONICA.
UCH is the courſe and ſtate of double-
neſs in the Tulip: and by this pro-
greſſion it will be perfeétly underſtood. So
large a flower was ſelected for the illuſtra-
tion of the ſyſtem, becauſe the gradations
in thoſe obvious parts are eaſily ſeen; and
being known in this they may be under-
ſtood alſo in many which are ſmaller. It
has been obſerved there are other kinds of
doubleneſs ariſing from other parts; but
with that ſpecies of the change which pro-
ceeds from the filaments, the courſe of na-
tur is the ſame in all,
THE

Pl..
THE QUADRUPLE TULIP.
Hill telin et
Soulp


PL.6.
THE PERFECT
FULL TULIP.
THill deli et Sculp.


( 29 )
a
The common tall Veronica, or Speed-
well of our gardens, has a flower as
ſmall as any that is cultivated for orna-
ment: but the great number of them,
and their regular diſpoſition in the ſpikes,
gives them fome claim to regard; and
the celeſtial blue, which is their proper
colour, more.
a
I DON'T know that it had been obſer-
ved, till I remarked it in Eden, that the
flowers of this plant ſometimes have a kind
of doubleneſs. 'Tis a very eſſential article
in their beauty : for it not only adds fome-
what to their ſize, but continues the fine
azure colour perfectly through their whole
body.
a
The flower of the Veronica is placed
in a ſmall green cup.
It conſiſts of one
petal, tubular at the baſe, and cut into four
oval ſegments at the top. Theſe are of a
fine blue. Within theſe ſtand two fila-
ments : they are naturally long, and to-
wards the top have fome breadth : they
are of a whitiſh colour, and the antheræ
which crown them are alſo white at firſt;
but when they are burſt, they are yellow.
THESE
a

( 30 )
These parts are plainly ſeen in ſo ſmall
a flower: and as the glow of univerſal
blue in the ſpike is the true beauty of the
plant, this party coloured inſide of the
bloom greatly degrades the whole. In
flowers too minute to be ſeen at any di-
ſtance diſtinctly, the general good aſpect
of the cluſter is what we are to attempt.
This, when the colour is all blue, gives
as it were the appearance of one pyra-
midal flower to the whole ſpike. It can-
not be thus in the natural condition of the
plant; but accidents we do not underſtand
make it ſo ſometimes in gardens : nor
does the common eye even while it ad-
mires the effect, ſee the cauſe.
In thofe plants of the Veronica which
have ſpikes perfectly blue, the flowers are
in a certain ſtate of doubleneſs. It is the
fame degree in the gradation of the Tu-
lip, in which the filaments are expanded
into a kind of petalss and the antheræ
are wholly obliterated.
The change is leſs conſpicuous becauſe
the flowers are in this plant fo much
4
ſmaller

( 31 )
ſmaller: and it is indeed leſs in itſelf, be-
cauſe the flower has only two filaments to
be the objects of the variation. The ad-
vantage however is very conſiderable this
way: for the filaments grow near as broad
as the petals, and with this change of
ſhape, they put off their proper colour.
The irregularity they give to the general
flower is not regarded; partly becauſe the
whole is ſo ſmall as to eſcape ſtrict obſer-
vation; and partly for that the ſegments
of the flower itſelf are irregular, the low-
eſt being narrower than the others.
So much as we have now mentioned,
culture ſometimes does without being di-
rected immediately to that end. There
can be, ſo far as we yet know, but one
degree of doubleneſs beyond what we
thus find by accident; and perhaps it is
not impoſſible to obtain that by art. The
extreme ſtate of doubleneſs in flowers,
which owe the increaſe to the filaments,
is that each of them having been ex-
panded, ſhould divide or ſplit itſelf into
two. If this can be brought about in the
Veronica, each flower will be rendered juſt
double what it was before ; for the new
petals
.

( 32 )
petals produced from the filaments will
equal the four original ones: the ſpike
will thus under the ſame ſurface contain
twice the quantity of flowery matter, and
all will be uniform in colour.
This is to be attempted the ſame way
as in the Tulip; for there is little diffe-
rence between the conſtituent parts of
that plant and this, except in their dimen-
fions. Theſe ſmall filaments are compoſed
of the fame matter, and conſtructed in
the ſame manner with thoſe larger; and
they ariſe from the ſame original part of
the plant.
3
In the Veronica, carefully diffected, we
find the ſeveral coats of the plant con-
tinued from the root to the flower, as re-
gularly and as perfectly as in the preced-
ing inſtance. The outer bark of the ſtalk
conſtitutes the cup, and terminates in it
juſt as the outer bark of the Tulip does
in the three exterior petals of that flower:
The ſecond rind forms the flower, and
all its parts terminate folely there. The
ſingle courſe of veſſels terminates in an ir-
regular ring, juſt within the tubular baſe
of

( 33 )
of the flower; the fleſhy ſubſtance runs
up into the two filaments; and the pith
ends in the rudiment of the feed veffel.
I HAVE traced feveral years the progreſs
of nature towards doubleneſs in this flower,
and have found it paſs through all the
ſtages of the larger kinds. Generally the
increaſe has proceeded gradually, and re-
gularly in plants, from the ſame root :
but ſometimes it has been interrupted, and
the flowers have for two or three ſeaſons
kept only the ſame degree of doubleneſs;
from which they have afterwards advan-
ced farther, or elſe declined to their ori-
ginal weedy and pyebald ſtate. Gardeners
have obſerved that ſome years their Vero-
nicas were finer, and ſome years worſe;
but they have not gueſſed the manner of
the change ; much leſs the cauſe.
The irregularities in this progreſs of the
plant towards perfection in doubleneſs,
tho very ſingular, I think may be eaſily ex-
plained according to the rules of culture ;
and if this can be perfectly done, the me-
thod of doubling flowers by art, will be
then fully known. Of this I am certain
E
from

( 34 )
from experience, that a neglected double
plant will in three or four years, by de-
grees, become ſingle. This ſhews the
luxuriance of the parts is owing to nouriſh-
ment; and we ſhall from experiments
find certainly what part, or what article
of culture it is which increaſes the fleſhy
ſubſtance of the ſtalk, whereon this change
depends; and therefore by that be able to
produce it: not caſually or imperfectly as
it happens now, but regularly, fully, and
compleatly.
The progreſs of doubleneſs in the Ve-
ronica flower proceeds thus in its three
ſtages or gradations; for the fourth or per-
fect ſtate, tho' I doubt not but the plant is
capable of it, we have not yet ſeen. In the
ſtate of nature the filament is whitiſh, long,
narrow at the baſe, and ſomewhat broader
at the top, and it is crowned with an ob-
long anthera. In the firſt ſtage of the
change, or rather in the approach to-
wards the change, the filament becomes
broader and more blue throughout. The
anthera continues white, but is ſmaller
than before, and the quantity of farina is
much leſs.
IN

( 35 )
In the ſecond ſtage the filament becomes
conſiderably broader, and more approaches
to the colour of the reſt of the flower: the
anthera is become ſmall, and runs along the
edge of the broad top of the filament like a
thin white line. In the firſt ſtage it contains
fome farina; and in due time it burſts: in
this it has none, nor does it ever open.
In the third ſtage the filament is yet
broader : it approaches to the form and
nature of the ſegments of the flower, and
the anthera is quite obliterated and loft.
This is the utmoſt ſtate of doubleneſs yet
known in the Veronica ; and this is a
great addition to its beauty. The reſt is
to be attempted: and we have beſide the
grounds of the proceſs thus diſcovered in
the ſtructure of the plant, the abſolute
proof of contraries, at leaſt in favour of
the expectation. Experience ſhews that
a neglect of culture will reduce double
flowers to their original ſingle ſtate; and
there is no reaſon to doubt but good ma-
nagement will as regularly make the ſingle
double. See Pl. 7. where 1. is the ſingle,
2. the double plant; 3. the ſingle flower
feparate, and 4. the double one.
СНАР.
E 2

( 36 )
CH A P. IV.
of the Degradation of double Flowers,
N:
O one is ignorant that double flowers
have been produced originally from
the roots or ſeeds of ſingle ones; by acci-
dents favouring the peculiar growth of that
part of the plant whereon the doubleneſs of
the flower depends. This is plain from the
courſe of nature in her productions. For
the anthera being obliterated in the third
and fourth degree of doubleneſs ariſing
from the filaments, there can be no ſeeds
ripened in the feed veſſels of ſuch flowers,
We have ſeen elſewhere, by undeniable
proofs, that the rudiment of the future
plant is contained in the globule of farina;
and that the feed is only a ſhell or caſe for
its reception, preſervation, and defence.
Therefore when there is no anthera, no
feed can ripen : and conſequently perfect
double flowers cannot be raiſed from the
feeds of plants, with the ſame kind of
flowers,
This ſhews that in botanical ſtrictneſs,
it is right to call the plants with double
flowers

( 37 )
flowers VARIETIES of the ſingle, not di-
ſtinct fpecies from them; but they have
ſtretched the point too far, who call them
MONSTERS.
As a peculiar degree and kind of nou-
riſhment given to the roots in a particular
manner, has ſwelled and expanded the
fleſhy ſubſtance of the ſtalk, and made it
in theſe inſtances luxuriant in the fila-
ments, the conſequence of neglect will be
a degradation of the flower, as regular as
was the riſe to this kind of excellence.
When a Tulip has from favouring cir-
cumſtances in the courſe of four, or with
interruptions in five, fix, or more years,
been paſſing the ſeveral ſtages to perfect
doubleneſs, the filament firſt expanding
fimply, then dividing, the anthera being
obliterated in the third ſtage, and the body
of the filament ſplit flatwiſe in the fourth;
fo in the ſame courſe of years, or perhaps
fewer, with neglect, it will defcend to its
original fimplicity again ; unleſs the ſame
good management which favoured the
increaſe of the petals continue, and pre-
ſerve it.
IF

( 38 )
If a Tulip which has thus attained the
ſtate of perfect doubleneſs, be every year
taken up at a certain period and planted in
good compoſt afterwards, it will continue
always ſuch as it appeared when perfect.
The bulb is renewed every year; and there
is therefore no decay from age. But on the
contrary, if the root be planted when thus
perfect in common ground, and ſuffered to
remain there, the foil being neither chan-
ged nor dug, tho' it be ever ſo well cleared
of weeds, the conſequence will be that tho'
the plant retains all its vigour, the flower
will yearly loſe part of its doubleneſs. The
firſt year the twelve additional petals will
be reduced to fix, and there will be in theſe
a portion of that yellow ſubſtance which
formed the body of the original filament:
The ſecond year the antheræ will appear
upon the tops of the fix additional petals ;
and thoſe will be narrower and thicker, and
leſs colour'd than before : the third
year
they will differ little from common fila-
ments; and the fourth ſeaſon will afford
from the ſame root a common ſingle Tulip.
In the Veronica it is the fame. Let a
plant of it in the beſt ſtate of doubleneſs
4
we

PL
2
3
Single é Double Veronica
&
& .


( 39 )
we know, be left in an undug border ,
the ſecond year ſhall ſhew the form of an
imperfect anthera upon a pale and ſome-
what narrow inner petal. The third ſea-
fon the anthera will ſhew its proper form,
and the filament will become narrow and
be but little coloured ; and the fourth
ſummer ſhall produce a common ſingle
flower.
What this neglect reduces to its ori-
ginal ſtate, culture has plainly raiſed from
that ſtate into the other. That culture
can do ſomething towards the producing
this change in the Veronica, muſt not be
doubted, for this ſeaſon the plant has ri-
ſen to the third ſtage of doubleneſs with
Mr. Lee of Hammerſmith, to whom I re-
commended the care of it when named in
Eden : and there is a beauty in the flower
greatly fuperior to what has before been
ſeen. The ſpike is ſhorter, but the flowers
appear in a perfection altogether un-
known before : they ſeem as if they were
twice as thick ſet as uſual, for each flower
having a larger number of petals, appears
nearly as big as two. The new petals na-
turally curl a little inwards; and this has
an

( 40 )
an advantage: for the inner part of the
flower is whitiſh, and would naturally
give ſome of that motly aſpect we diſlike
to the whole, but theſe new petals hide
it by their curling, and the whole is a
celeſtial blue.
THE attempt to effect theſe changes by
a regular culture muſt be thus: the roots
muſt be new planted every autumn, and
MARLE added to the mould. We find
this increaſes that part of the timber of
trees, which forms the filaments in flowers:
Every plant muſt have a yard ſquare of
ground, whereon nothing elſe grows; and
the ſtalks muſt be annually cut down as
ſoon as they begin to flower; watering the
root daily for a month after. This fills the
bud for the ſucceeding year with the fit
nouriſhment.
THE END.
DIRECTIONS to the BINDER
Plate o to face page 9.-Pl. 1. p.10.--Pl. 2. p. 22.
Pl. 3. p. 24..--Pl. 4. p. 26.Pl. 5. p. 28.Pl. 6.
0
ibid.Pl. 7. p. 34.



Τ Η Ε
ORIGIN and PRODUCTION
Ο F
Proliferous Flowers.
W I TH
The CULTURE at large
FOR
Raiſing DOUBLE from SINGLE,
A N D
PROLIFEROUS from the DOUBLE.
Illuſtrated with FIGURES.
By J. HILL, M. D.
LONDON
Printed for the AUTHOR, and
Sold by R. Baldwin in Pater-nofter-Row,
and J. Jackson in St. James's-ſtreet.
M.DCC.LIX.

to worror
TE

OF THE
Origin and Production
Ο F
Proliferous Flowers.
*ROLIFEROUS FLOWERS are
thoſe which have a ſecond, ari-
fing with a new ſtalk from the
centre of the firſt; and ſome-
times even a third from this ſecond.
ALL proliferous flowers are accidental :
There is no ſpecies which naturally and
conſtantly appears in this form. They are
variations from the ordinary ſtate of na-
ture, occafioned by the abundance of a
peculiar nouriſhment; and are generally
the effect of culture.
Most flowers muſt be double before
they grow luxuriant in a new offspring :
but we have a ſingular inſtance of one
where the flowers are proliferous to the
third degree, and yet ſingle.
THE Compoſite flowers ſometimes
produce a ſecondary offspring, but in a
peculiar manner ; not in the plain way of
proliferation : The new flowers ariſe,
not from the centre, but round the ſides.
The CHICKEN Daisy, and the CHILD-
B.
ING

( 2 )
ING MARYGOLD give familiar inſtances
of this; and the laſt ſummer has produced
a new one in the Sea Chamæmile.
ACCIDENTS, unknown to the gardener,
have hitherto afforded him proliferous
flowers ; but perhaps 'tis in the power of
art to produce them.
The philoſopher,
by tracing the progreſs of nature ſlowly
and ſteadily in this luxuriance, and the
gardener, by obſerving carefully what
accidents have preceded the appearance
of ſuch flowers when they have riſen in
his beds, may together lay down a regu-
lar courſe of culture for their production.
SOMETHING like this will be propoſed,
tho' but imperfectly, in the preſent trea-
tiſe.
As the raifing double flowers is in moſt
caſes an eſſential requiſite to the poffible
production of the proliferous, the full de-
tail of the gardeners management of both
was reſerved for this place : the general
fyftem only having been given in a pre-
ceding work *
MANY plants have occaſionally double
flowers from nature or by culture ; but
the ſpecies are very few in which we have
yet ſeen proliferation. It ſeems therefore
a difficult operation of nature. There will
be the more glory in the ſucceſs if art can
give
* Production of Double Flowers.

( 3 )
give aſſiſtance: and this, ſince the cauſe
is plainly in luxuriance from nouriſhment,
perhaps, under due care, it
may.
We have long been accuſtomed to the
PROLIFEROUS RANUNCULUS, even to the
third ſtage ; and occaſionally ANEMONIES
of the fame form have appeared in the
floriſt's borders. To theſe Scotland added
a proliferous Geum; and Germany a
Rose, of the third order : The proli-
ferous CARNATION followed theſe, and
cloſed the catalogue ; till laſt year we re-
ceived from Africa a proliferous PIONY,
the product of wild nature.
The increaſe of this kind in compoſite
flowers is leſs ſpecious, and leſs remarka-
ble; but even that is alſo very limited.
Beſide the Daily and Marygold, we ſaw
only one Hawkweed and a Scabious till
the laſt year added the Chamæmile to
that ſhort lift.
So very ſparing is nature in this article ;
and ſo little has art yet added to it. The
figures of the ſeveral known kinds follow;
except the Piony, which is too vaſt to be
repreſented to advantage in this ſmall
form, where all is of the ſize of nature.
This I have given in another work *.
THE Ranunculus is the moſt frequent
of the proliferous kind; it will therefore
B a
be
* Exotic Botany,

(4)
be uſeful to conſider that plant firſt:
And as it naturally grows double before
it becomes proliferous, we may advance
moſt regularly by firſt tracing its changes
to that ſtate.
CH A P. II.
Of the RANUNCULUS or CROWFOOT.
a
IN
N the common CROWFOOT; or ſingle
RANUNCULUS of our meadows, the
flower is thus form’d. A cup of five
leaves terminates the ſtalk; and within
this are placed five broad petals or flower
leaves, with ſmall baſes, and a cell or hol-
low dent, open or cover'd near the bot-
tom: This cell Linnæus has named the
Nectarium. Above ſtand numerous fila-
ments and from amidſt theſe riſes an oval
head, which is a receptacle of feeds,cover'd
on the ſurface with rudiments of them. The
fingle garden Ranunculus, tho' a native
of Afia, differs little from this in the
conſtruction of the flower : and it is from
that ſingle Aſiatic kind we are to trace the
courſe and progreſs of the change, firſt to
a double, and thence to a proliferous
ſtate.
In the fingle Aſiatic Ranunculus there
uſually is a petal more than the proper
number.

(5)
number. One of theſe flowers is repre-
ſented, Pl. 1. Fig. 1. cut upon to thew its
conſtruction. It is frequently yellow in
this ſtate, but as it grows double it be-
comes tinged with ſcarlet; and is at laſt
ſcarlet entirely
This change of colour is more extra-
ordinary than the
the common varia-
tions of red or blue into white; but it is
not fingular in the Ranunculus. The
native and original tulip is yellow, yet red
is common in our gardens; and in the
Impatiens we ſee the
fair gradation.
THE ſtalk of the Ranunculus, as in
other plants, is compoſed of two rinds,
a Blea, a fleſh, and Pith. The outer rind
of the ſtalk terminates in the cup but the
inner rind, the Blea, and the other
parts continue their courſe higher. Theſe
ſwell into a greater thickneſs in the Place
where the petals riſe; and thence the
body which they form gradually diminiſhes
a little upwards. So that upon the
ſummit of the ſtalk is ſeen a ſwoln part
of a pearlike ſhape, with the broad
end downwards, Pl. 1. fig. 1.a.b.
This is hollow within, and it is truly the
ſtalk of the plant continued intire in that
form, except for the want of its outer rind.
This pear-ſhap'd body is continued in
a ſlenderer form upwards, hollow as the
a
other;

(6)
a
other; indeed making one continued
hollow with it, and with the ſtalk; and
at the top it terminates in a rounded and
cloſed end c.
The ſtructure of this part is beſt feen
by cuting in two a flower of a ſingle, or
nearly fingle Ranunculus; together with
a piece of the ſtalk. Thus we may trace
the mechaniſm of the head, and that will
lead us to underſtand the manner where-
in the flower becomes firſt double, and
then proliferous.
The ſtalk diveſted of its outer rind at
the cup, is thus continued with its na-
tural hollow up to the top of the recep-
tacle or head of ſeeds; but che cavity is
larger here than in the ſtalk itſelf.
Tho the whole head or receptacle with
its two parts, the lower pyriform, and
the upper cylindric, be a continuation
only of the ſtalk of the plant, and indeed
its natural termination ; yet for the more
clearly comprehending the ſtructure of
the flower, it will be uſeful to diſtinguiſh
that part by different names in theſe its
ſeveral ſtages. Thus what we call abſo-
lutely the STALK riſes from the ground
and terminates at and in the cup d. The
pear-ſhap'd part we ſhall call the recep-
tacle of the FLOWER e; and the cylindric,
or uppermoſt portion of this, the RECEP-
TACLE

1
6.
h
e.
h.
2
3
See
5
4
6
Ranunculus Single double g Proliferous .
&

UNIL
OF
MICH

(7)
TACLE of the SEEDS f. By theſe names
we ſhall diſtinguiſh the ſeveral portions
eaſily and perfectly.
From the receptacle of the flower e,
riſe the petals g, and above theſe the fila-
ments h. From the other part, or upper,
ariſe the rudiments of ſeeds i, crowned
each with its ſtigma, without a ſtyle.
This is the natural ſtate of the Ranun-
culus flower : the petals are only five or
fix; and the filaments are in a manner
innumerable. Theſe riſe from the ſame
receptacle with the petals themſelves,
and are of like ſtructure : compoſed of
the ſame parts, tho' different in form :
the petals being broad and flat, theſe fila-
ments rounded and ſlender; and each of
them terminated by an oblong double
anthera.
The firſt change which culture pro-
duces in this plant is the rendering it
double, Pl. 1. fig. 2. and 4. After this,
if at all, riſes the farther luxuriance, mak-
ing it proliferous.
THE doubleneſs of the flower is
duced by the filaments ſwelling in breadth,
and thus becoming petals. This is per-
formed exactly as in the Tulip : Inſtances
of which have been given in all the ſtages
in a preceding treatiſe. In the double
Ranunculus we ſee the filaments diminiſh
in
pro-

( 8 )
2
in number as the petals encreaſe; and
the curious obſerver by looking over a bed
of theſe plants when in flower, and exa-
mining the more and leſs double ones,
will find, that the additional petals in
thoſe which are leſs double, are as yet
irregular in ſhape. He will ſee the re-
mains of the anthera in its proper place
upon them; tho' the body of the filament
has ſwelled to twice its natural length
and breadth behind it, forming a kind of
petal. Pl. 1. fig. 3.
As the flowers grow more compleatly
double theſe petals acquire more nearly
the form of the others; and the remains
of the antheræ then diſappear intirely.
Thus there are no filaments or antheræ
in compleatly double flowers : but this is
not all the change. While theſe parts
have been gradually ſwelling into abſolute
petals, the receptacle of ſeeds has been
by degrees diminiſhing: and when a
flower is perfectly double, that part alſo
totally diſappears. Pl. 1. fig. 4. The re-
ceptacle of the flower having ſuch an un-
natural multiplicity of petals to ſupport,
the nouriſhment has all been detained
there; and as rudiments of feeds would
be uſeleſs where they could not ripen for
want of antheræ, nature has left no place
of reception for them.
THUS

( 9 )
Thus is form'd the double Ranunculus
from the ſingle : abundant nouriſhment
of a proper kind expanding the filaments
into petals.
We are next to enquire how prolifera-
tion, the utmoſt ſtage of luxuriance, is
performed
The ſtalk of the plant which is con-
tinued thro'the head of the flower, Fig. I.
bcgf, terminates naturally in the obtuſe
top of the receptacle of ſeeds c. But this
is not well feen unleſs the flower be cut
open; becauſe the top as well as fides of
this receptacle are in a ſtate of nature ſur-
rounded with rudiments of ſeeds, whoſe
purple and rough ſtigmata, cover the
whole with a kind of down.
In every double flower the receptacle
of ſeeds is wanting ; and in theſe the ex-
tream end of the ſtalk is ſeen in the top
of the receptacle of the flower, where it
either terminates in a multitude of very
minute petals (Pl. 1. fig. 5.) or in a plain
round end 4.
Which ever be the caſe, when the
flower is cut open, the hollow of the ſtalk
is ſeen to continue regularly up ſo far:
and there it naturally finiſhes. But when
extream luxuriance puſhes the growth
yet farther, this is the ſeat and ſource of
the encreaſe; and gives proliferation. The
C
ſtalk
a
a

( 10 )
ſtalk inſtead of terminating thus in the
center of the flower grows up out of it;
riſes to an inch or more in height; and
bears upon its ſummit another flower
per-
fectly like the firſt. Even from this fe-
cond flower, in the higheſt ſtage of per-
fection, there riſes in the ſame manner a
third. Pl. 1. fig. 6.
Thus is the triple crown of the Ran-
unculus form’d; and 'tis a very elegant
and pleaſing effect of culture. Pl. 2. The
fecond flower in this caſe has a cup; but
it is leſs perfect than in the firſt : In the
third there remains nothing of this part
except a thickned and greeniſh back upon
two or three of the loweſt of the Petals.
Each flower in fuch a plant conſiſts only
of petals fix'd to their proper head, with
out any receptacle of feeds.
In all theſe flowers the aditional petals
formed of filaments may be diſtinguished
from the natural fix at the bottom : for
they have thick hollow baſes; whereas
thoſe of the proper and original petals,
tho' they be narrow, yet are thin, flat,
and ſolid.
СНА Р.

2
Triple crownd
Ranunculu

OF
GHIL

( I
11 )
CH A P. III.
Of the ANEMONE.
THI
HE ANEMONE has no cup. The
leaf upon the ſtalk ſerves its office
while the flower is in the bud; and after-
wards the three outer petals become fo
firm, and are ſo well fixed, that no more
defence is needed.
EXCEPTING this want of a cup, the
ſtructure of the ſingle Anemone is not
very unlike that of the Ranunculus : but
its doubleneſs is produced in a manner
perfectly different.
The flower of the ſingle Anemone is
compoſed of fix petals, placed in two
ranges : the exterior three are formed of
the outer rind of the ſtalk, as is the cup
of the ranunculus : the inner rind makes
the three inner petals; and the reſt of the
ftalk is continued in a receptacle for the
filaments and feeds.
The receptacle of the filaments is oval,
and that of the feeds is ſomewhat conic.
This laſt takes its origin from the top of
the former, and is one continued ſubſtance
with it. The diminution of the recep-
tacle of feeds from that of the flower,
is leſs in this plant than in the ranun-
culus :

( 12 )
culus : ſo that the whole may be ſaid to
form one oblong oval body. The di-
ſtinction of theſe parts is however eſſential;
tho' it be leſs ſtrongly marked in this ſub-
ject : and altho' it ſcarce appears exter-
nally, it is very obvious in the flower
when cut open.
The moſt proper kind of Anemone
for this purpoſe is a ſingle one, which has
ſtood till the petals are ready to fall. 'Tis
from this ſingle ſtate, we are to trace the
doubleneſs, and proliferation ; and in a
flower which has ſtood ſo long, the re-
ceptacles or head will be grown up fuffi-
ciently for that purpoſe.
To the receptacle of the flower are
fixed the three inner petals, and juſt above
them riſe an innumerable multitude of
filaments, as in the Ranunculus : but they
are as ſlender as hairs in this plant. Their
antheræ are alſo doubled.
THESE cover entirely the receptacle of
the flower, but they reach no farther.
From the upper part of the head, which
we call the receptacle of the feeds, riſe
the rudiments of thoſe ſeeds: They ſtand
cloſe all over it; and they are crowned
with ſmall ſtyles, on which are blunt
ſtigmata. This is the ſtructure of the
fingle Anemone.
IN

( 13 )
a
In the Ranunculus we ſee the filaments
become petals, in order to form the dou-
bleneſs ; and the receptacle of feeds is
then obliterated: but in the Anemone
the filaments are too ſlender for this of-
fice. The additional petals in this plant
are formed from the coats of the young
ſeeds.
THIS is the courſe of nature: and for
this reaſon we ſee three parts in a double
Anemone, tho' but two in the double
Ranunculus. In that flower, excluſive
of the cup, there are only the natural
outer petals, and the inner ones which
have been formed of filaments : but in
the Anemone there are firſt the two ranges
of outer petals ; fecondly the ſeveral ſeries
of filaments, which are a little alter'd in
form and colour, but are not converted
into petals; and thirdly the additional
petals, which make the doubleneſs, and
which are formed out of the rudiments
of the ſeeds.
The filaments are altogether diſtinct
from theſe. They are ſhorter and nar-
rower : and they retain, in ſome degree,
even the form of their antheræ, tho' the
uſe of thoſe parts be loſt.
Thus is the double Anemone form'd :
And the proliferous riſes in the ſame man-
ner from it, as from the Ranunculus. The
termi-

( 14 )
3
termination of the ſtalk in the double
Anemone is in the ſummit of the recep-
tacle, which in thoſe flowers never runs
up into any conſiderable length; and
it there naturally finiſhes in a cluſter of
of very minute, and imperfect petals;
ſomewhat open, or elſe compact as a but-
ton; formed of thoſe rudiments of feeds
which covered it.
WHEN the extream luxuriance of cul-
ture forces a farther growth after all the
rudiments of feeds are converted into
petals, this part is again the ſcene of it.
The extream end of the ſtalk grows up,
riſes out of the flower, and aſcending two
inches above it, bears upon its head ano-
ther flower, perfectly like the firſt. Pl. 3.
This is the origin of the proliferous
flowers in the Ranunculus and the Ane-
mone: It contradicts the modern philo-
fophy, which ſays proliferation is from the
PISTILL. For if it were ſo, there muſt
be as many new flowers in the proliferous
Anemone, and Ranunculus, as there are
rudiments of feeds.
PROLIFERATION is indeed in theſe
flowers a very ſimple proceeding. It is
not the changing of one part into another,
but the mere continuing of the ſtalk to
grow, thro' the body of the flower. It
would

3.
Imperial Anemone,

NA
NiG
H

( 15 )
would not be ſtrange to reaſon that this
ſhould be more common. The termina-
tion of the growth of plants, at the flower
happens only becauſe ſeeds are formed
there : In theſe double flowers no feeds
are produced; therefore the uſual cauſe
does not obtain. The occaſion that this
ſecond growth is leſs frequent, is the
great degree of fullneſs in theſe double
Howers : as much nouriſhment being per-
haps required for them, as would be for
the feeds.
CHAP. IV.
Of the proliferous Geum.
ز
ΤΗ HIS very peculiar plant, which is
often proliferous in the wild ſtate
of nature, will confirm in fome degree
the obſervation made at the cloſe of
the laſt chapter ; for it becomes prolife-
rous without being double. This luxu-
riant ſtate of it, which nature offers, is
indeed uſually but imperfect in our coun-
try: but there are places where 'tis vigo-
rous and elegant. With us the produc-
tion of a ſecond flower, and that ſcarce
able to expand its petals, is all that we
find wild; but on the Pyrenæan mountains
nature

(16)
LATA.
nature often raiſes the flower to the third
ſtage perfect, and yet keeps all ſingle.
GEUM is a name which the new Bo-
tany gives to the plant before called, from
the ſpicy flavour of its root, CARYOPHYL-
The ſpecies which becomes pro-
liferous is native of our northern counties;
and in the place of the little yellow and
fugacious flower of the common kind, this
has it large, permanent, and purple. 'Tis
called purpurea from the colour of the
flower, and from the place of growth
ſometimes montana and paluſtris : it de-
mands both epithets, for its moſt favour-
ing ſeat is at the edges of thoſe bogs which
are upon the tops of hills.
The flower is naturally not unlike the
Crowfoot. It has a divided cup, and in
the ſimpleſt ſtate has only five petals,
with numerous filaments, and as nume-
rous rudiments of ſeeds, covering a ſhort
blunt receptacle. In this ſtate 'tis com-
mon in the upland bogs of Yorkſhire ; and
as frequent in Wales and Ireland.
Where the nouriſhment is any thing
luxuriant, the petals encreaſe in ſize and
number: Eight uſually take the place of
the original five; and they ſpread out
more flat.
The next redundance is uncertain;
it depends on the nature of the ground.
for
If

( 17 )
3
If the mould be rich but ſhallow, as is the
caſe upon the ſides of our hills in Weſt-
moreland, the filaments form petals; and
the flower grows regularly double. It
becomes then globular as the Ranuncu-
lus of our gardens : But where the ſoil is
deep ; and is moiſt alſo to the bottom, as
'tis in the high boggs of Scotland; and on
the weſt parts of the Pyrenæan mountains
the flower becomes at once proliferous,
without any farther doubling than a ſmall
encreaſe of its fingle or natural range of
petals.
The figure here annexed is from a
Pyrenæan plant; and theſe were its exact
dimenſions. Sibbald in Scotland long ago
faw ſomething like it.
In this ſpecimen the petals of each
flower were eight ; they were large, wa-
ved, and ſpread out flat; reſembling more
the DRYAS than the GEUM. The fila-
ments held their place unaltered; but
the ſtalk of the plant, inſtead of terminat-
ing in a receptacle of feeds, grew through
the firſt flower, and at ſome height above
produced a ſecond : then, growing thro
that alſo, it bore on its ſummit a third, in
which the receptacle of ſeeds was perfect.
The facts are certain as to the places of
growth of the plants which have theſe
ſeveral redundances; and this will lead us
D
onc

( 18 )
a
one ſtep towards the great article of raiſing
ſuch flowers by culture. Mr. LAWSON,
celebrated in the Engliſh botany, found
this purple GEUM with four or five ranges
of petals, near Great STRICKLAND in
WESTMORELAND ; and long before him
Mr. BREARCLIFF in a wood on an eſtate
of his own name. In both theſe places
the ſoil is rich but ſhallow. The Scotch
bogs, about whoſe edges SIBBALD found
the ſame plant, are generally compaſſed
with a deep black mould, ſuch as that
of our Engliſh fens: and finally the place
where the plant was gathered, from which
this figure is taken, Pl. 4. was moiſt and
mellow, to a depth beyond the full length
of a French walking-cane. The leaſt par-
ticularities in nature are to be regarded :
the rational aſſiſtances of art depend on
them entirely.
a
CHAP. V.
of the Proliferous ROSE.
Foi
OUR of the five properly proliferous
plants are of the POLYANDROUS kind.
The character of this claſs is that the fila-
ments are numerous, and ariſe from a
receptacle ; not from the cup or petals of
the flower ; as they do in ſome others
which

an
rumah
surmush


( 19 )
which have alſo great numbers of them ;
and are thence ſeparated under the term
Icofandrous.
This is a particularity that demands no-
tice. We know the filaments are formed
of the eſſential part of the plant, that is
the fleſhy ſubſtance in the ſtalk. And we
ſhall find on a proper ſearch the receptacle
in theſe peculiar plants has alſo a portion
of this fleſhy Yubſtance; but the blea forms
the greater part of it.
The natural termination of the fleſh of
the ſtalk is in a vault or arch which makes
the top of the receptacle. When this arch
is form'd at that place, the blea ceaſes to
extend itſelf in height; and there it termi-
nates the plant. But if the blea can, by
art or nature, be puſhed up farther than
this its general termination, the fleſhy
ſubſtance will accompany it; and when it
has aſcended an inch or ſomewhat more,
a new flower will be there form’d; and it
will in this ſtate finiſh in that flower.
The receptacle in this plant, tho' imper-
feet in the lower flower, will be natural
and entire in the upper one.
Thus is form’d, and thus perfected,
PROLIFERATION IN ONE STAGE. If a
farther redundance of peculiar nouriſh-
ment continues to puſh the blea yet far-
ther, the ſame courſe will be obſerved by
nature,

( 20 )
a
nature, and a third flower will be formed
upon
the ſummit of another portion of the
ſtill aſcending ſtalk.
FARTHER than this I have not ſeen
proliferation reach : The wonder is, that
it can go ſo far.
The root of every plant has a peculiar
force of imbibing; and of propelling up-
wards the juices which it obtains from the
earth. On this depends the height of the
ftem : for where that force ceaſes, the
flower is form’d.
When the juices can be carry'd no
higher, the parts which would grow into
leaves unite and make a cup ; and the
other conſtituent parts of the plant ſtop in
the ſame manner, and terminate in the
fame place ; forming the various portions
of the flower. This is the ſyſtem of
FLORESCENCE ; and on this depends dou,
bleneſs : for if any accident of culture, or
abundance of wild nouriſhment of a right
kind forces out the flower below the pro-
per ſtandard of growth, I have obſerved
that it becomes uſually double. This
happens becauſe 'tis better ſupply'd than
it would have been at the extream height
of the ſtalk.
WHATEVER nouriſhment encreaſes
particularly the fleſhy ſubſtance of the
plant gives it a tendency to burſt thus
early

( 21 )
a
early into flower; and to extend the fila-
ments into a kind of petals : and in the
ſame manner whatever peculiar nouriſh-
ment feeds the blea, in a like manner forces
up that part, even after the flower is form-
ed: and thus is produced proliferation.
THESE are not uſeleſs reſearches: the
the more we know of the real nature of
the change, the better we ſhall underſtand
how to promote it at our pleaſure.
The Rose often approaches to proli-
feration ; but we rarely ſee that change
perfected. When the encreaſe is compleat
no vegetable has it ſo elegantly. In the
Geum, juſt nam'd, and in the Carnation,
to be deſcribed hereafter, the upper ſtalk,
placed between flower and flower, is nak-
ed: but in the Roſe, when perfectly pro-
liferous, it has a leaf upon it, like thoſe
the young ſhoots of the ſame ſhrub.
The blea is plainly in this, as in the
other inſtances the part which aſcends
from the centre of the original flower :
for the natural outer rind has terminated
in a cup; and the inner rind in petals.
Yet this aſcending blea does not continue
naked: it forms itſelf firſt an inner rind
from its own ſubſtance, and then an outer
bark from that. Thoſe integuments, and
even the blea itſelf, were originally thus
formed in the ſeedling plant, for the
Coo
a
upon the

( 22 )
ز
CORCULUM or heart of the feed burſts
from its covering naked; and as it ſwells
for growth, forms theſe parts for its co-
vering
It is a great deal for the ſtrength of
nature at that height of the ſtalk which
a forced nouriſhment has form'd above
the proper flower, to furniſh out theſe
Coverings for the blea : but in the plants
juſt named it does no more. In the Ane-
mone fometimes a jagged film appears up-
on the ſtalk between the flowers, but in
the Roſe, often a perfect leaf.
This being a hardy ſhrub has longer
fibres, and a more vivid blea than the
herbaceous kinds; and thence has this pre-
eminence.
PECULIAR feafons favour the exube-
rance : but there muſt be alſo futable foils
to render the flowers perfect. The laſt
fummer was one which tended to this
elegant production, and I ſaw ſeveral in
the Engliſh gardens; but all far from
perfect. The beſt was one at Mr. WARE's
on WESTBOURN-Green, but the proli-
feration was but of one ſtage; and the
upper flower a very poor one.
The ſpecimen repreſented in the an-
nexed figure I received from Germany,
with the ſpecious name of Rex ROSARUM
King of the Rofes, or the ſovereign Roſe.
See Pl. 5.
THE
5

Sovereign
Rosé
3


( 23 )
The ſtalk on which the original or
lower flower grew, differed in nothing
from that of common roſes. The ſecond
was ſupported on a new ſtalk, formed by
a ſingular continuation of the firſt; and
the third in the ſame manner on a new
ſtem a continuation of the ſecond. All
three were perfect, and the ſtalks between
ſo vigorous as to have leaves.
In the inſtances hitherto examined the
new ftalk has been always form’d by a
continuation of the receptacle of ſeeds
raiſed within the flower ; but in the Roſe
there is no ſuch receptacle. The branch
ſwells at its extremity into a peculiar
kind of fruit; within which, not upon its
ſurface, are placed the feeds; and from
whoſe ſummit, not from its baſe, riſes
the proper cup of the flower : The petals
and the numerous filaments having their
place within
The doubleneſs of the Rofe is made
by ſome of the filaments ſwelling into pe-
tals; and in the perfect full kinds all of
them undergo this change. The inner
part of this fleſhy fruit is form’d of the
pith of the ſtalk, and this has for its co-
vering the extream part of the fleſhy ſub-
ſtance, over which lies the blea. The fleſhy
ſubſtance naturally breaks into filaments at
its extremity : but if abundant nouriſh-
ment
3

( 24 )
ment of a proper kind forces the blea to
aſcend higher than the body of the flower,
a part of this ſubſtance always accompa-
nies it; and new coats are formed on that,
as ſoon as it is expoſed to the air. Thus
a new ſtalk is produced with all its parts,
ſupporting a ſecond Rofe ; and in the ſame
manner afterwards a third.
CH A P. VI.
Of the Proliferous CARNATION.
THE
HE Carnation is a fingle inſtance,
ſo far as I have ſeen or heard, of a
regularly proliferous plant, which is not
of the polyandrous tribe. This however
comes near to that claſs in place, tho' it
does not enter it. 'Tis one of the DECAN-
DRIA, and has numerous filaments in the
natural ſtate, tho' they be not ſo abun-
dant as in thoſe other plants: perhaps
therefore the proliferation happens rarely.
THERE is fomething peculiar in the
manner wherein the Carnation becomes
thus redundant in flower ; for it has not
that part from whence the new ftalk is
formed in the preceding inſtances. The
feeds in this plant are not fixed to a re-
ceptacle, but lodged in a capſule: and as
it is the receptacle which becomes ex-
tended into a new ſtalk in thoſe kinds, it
is

( 25 )
а
is the rudiment of the capſule or ſeed
vefſel which furniſhes the matter of the
change in this.
IN the CLOVE-JULY-FLOWER, from
which this Carnation is raiſed by care and
ſuperadded culture, the ſtalk is carry'd
entire to the baſe of the cup. There its
outer rind makes the four ſcales at the
bottom, and terminates in them : The
inner rind forms the long tubular cup of
the flower, which gardners call the pod
of a Carnation : The blea makes the pe=
tals; and the fleſhy ſubſtance terminates
in the filaments, except that a ſmall por-
tion of it covers the body of the new
form'd capſule, whoſe principal ſubſtance
is a termination of the pith.
This is the natural ſtate of the flower.
The rudiment of the feed veffel, whoſe
origin is from the pith and a portion of the
fleſhy ſubſtance only, gets itſelf new co-
verings even in the flower, analogous to
thoſe it loft by their going off in the pe-
tals, and the cup: If we cut a young
feed veſſel tranſverſly, we ſee them all tho'
very ſmall in quantity. They terminate
at its ſummit in this natural ſtate of the
bloom; but abundant nouriſhment may,
as in other inſtances, extend them higher :
and in that caſe a ſecond flower is the nam
tural and neceffary conſequence.
E
THC
a

( 26 )
The change in the Carnation proceeds
juſt as in the Ranunculus, the Tulip, and
the like, ſo far as doubleneſs is concerned :
An abundant nouriſhment of the fleſhy
ſubſtance connects the little filaments into
broad petals : ten are thus added to the
flower; and afterwards by their ſpliting
flatwiſe often twenty.
If there be ſtill redundant, rich, and
proper nouriſhment after this, the farther
growth gives proliferation. It is perfected
thus.
The fleſhy coat of the young feed veſſel
forming itſelf freſh coverings in the flower,
the firſt and neareſt to it is a new blea.
This is there coated with its two rinds;
and inſtead of terminating in a kind of
arch at the top of that rudiment, it grows
upwards; riſes from the center of the
flower its natural bed; and taking with it
a portion of the fleſhy ſubſtance within,
and its two coats without, the whole thus
becomes a new ſtalk.
The plant had before reached its due
natural ſtature; and the tendency it then
had to flower ſtill continues : fo that at a
ſmall height the parts arrange themſelves
for flowering a ſecond time, juſt as they did
below. They are all of them ſeen diſtinctly
in this upper ſtem, as well as in the lower,
and therefore, if nouriſhment enough riſe,
this

Supream
Carnation
F

6

( 27 )
this flower alſo will have all its parts, and
be perfect. The ſpecimen whence this
figure was deſigned, had them truly ſo:
the upper flower had all the parts of the
lower, and one more ; for in it was a ru-
diment of a ſeed veſſel : there were fewer
petals in this flower than in the lower, but
that is not effential. See Pl. 6.
The plant was raiſed in Italy, and ſtoo
in an open border, as did alſo another, like
this but inferior, which flowered in the
fame garden in the year 1753.
CHA P. VII.
Of the Chicken CHAMOEMILE.
HE DAISY, when it has been raiſed
from its plain ſtate to doubleneſs, and
to proliferation, has been reſembled with
its little fideling brood to the hen and her
new hatch'd young ones. This Chamæ-
mile may retain the name; as it has per-
fectly the form and nature of that pretty
plant, in the whole compoſition of its
flower.
The ſenſe of the term proliferation juſtly
admits this ſpecies : for new flowers are
produced from the ſame baſe with the old ;
but they are difpofed altogether differently;
Theſe fyngeneſious plants are a peculiar
tribe : each flower in them is properly a
cluſter,

( 28 )
a
;
cluſter, or congeries of many; tho' one
cup holds them. The yellow tubu-
lar flofucles which make the center in
this Chameemile, and others, in the
ſtate of nature are ſo many perfect little
flowers : Each has its filaments and rudi-
ment of fruit : and even the rays at the
verge, tho'very different in form, approach
to them in nature. Each of theſe bas the
rudiment of a ſeed which is to be impreg-
nated from the farina of the others.
The original flower whence culture has
now raiſed this elegant redundance, con-
ſiſts of a great yellow head ſurrounded
with a ſingle ſeries of white rays; the
yellow head being compoſed of tubular
fofucles.
The method wherein this flower be-
comes doubled is exactly the ſame with
that of the other compoſite kinds, which
I have given at large in a late work *
The yellow and tubular floíucles becom-
ing white and flat by an eaſy and gradual
change. Each of theſe is originally form’d
of one petal, cut at the end into five ſeg-
ments: and within it ſtand five filaments,
with coaleſcent antheræ.
When luxuriant nouriſhment urges the
growth of the flower beyond the intended
limits, one of theſe five ſegments extends
itſelf
* Exotic Botany.
:

( 29 )
a
itſelf firſt, beyond the reſt in length, and
becomes whitiſh at the end. In the next
ſtage this enlarged ſegment of the yellow
foſcule becomes yet longer, and takes in-
to its ſubſtance the two others which are
next it. 'Tis then plainly white: the fila-
ments fade within it, becauſe the nouriſh-
ment goes to this part; and the floſcule
becomes a mongrel, of a middle nature;
being neither altogether flat nor wholly
tubular ; nor altogether white nor entirely
yellow. The next ſtage lengthens it yet
ſomewhat more ; it becomes entirely flat,
plain, and white ; and is like altogether
to the original verge of petals, round the
flower, only ſhorter. Theſe new petals
lie like ſcales, in many ranges, one beyond
another; and the flower being of a ſnow
white, and from the multitude of the new
petals, almoſt globular, it has a fine ap-
pearance.
Thus is the double Sea-Chamemile of
the Engliſh Gardens form’d from the wild
Italian plant, whoſe flower hardly exceeds
the coarſe aſpect of our common May-
WEED. But this is not all. Redundant
nouriſhment, a depth of foil, and ſea-weed
for manure, have raiſed it this laſt fum-
mer, in Lincolnſhire, to a new perfection;
rendering it, in its way, proliferous.
FROM

( 30 )
FROM the full double flower in this
new ſtate there ariſe no leſs than fix of
the proliferous order. They take their
origin, not from the centre, as in the kinds
juſt nam'd, but from the ſides; and tho'
they very exactly reſemble the original
flower, they are but diminutives.
ONE rounded cup contains the many
flofcules which compoſe the original flower ;
and theſe miniature productions riſe from
the ſwelling at the ſummit of the ſtalk juſt
within that cincture : each with its own
ſmall footſtalk. In the entire plant the
outer rind having form’d the
cup,
there
terminates: Theſe footſtalks of the new
flowers therefore riſe diverted of an outer
coat; but this is a part as eaſily produci-
ble in plants as the outer ſkin or cuticle in
animals : the young ſtalks foon get that
additional covering; and there is nothing
to prevent their terminating as the reſt in
perfect flowers; only that full nouriſh-
ment is not eaſily convey'd to ſuch a nu-
merous and diſtant progeny. See Pl. 7.
CH A P. VIII.
Of the Production of LUXURIANT FLOWERS
by Art.
I. THE SYSTEM.
WE have thus traced with flow and
cautious ſteps the courſe by which
the

7.
Chicken
Chamomile

UNIL
OF
3
WICH

( 3 )
a
the encreaſe of flowers is form'd, whether
in doubleneſs, or proliferation : and the
enquiry into thoſe peculiar circumſtances
which attend theſe productions when they
are the work of nature, will lead us by a
plain detail of reaſon toward the means
thro' which the ſame encreaſe may be ra-
tionally attempted by art.
ADVANCES in theſe paths are very flow.
Gardening, which is a ſubject equal to the
moſt exalted philoſophy, is in the hands
of ignorant men, and little underſtood:
Certain knowledge is therefore difficultly
attained, in whatever has concern with
culture. Yet under all theſe diſadvantages
the ſearch of truth has been continued,
at my inſtigation, in different parts of the
kingdom, and ſeems to promiſe fairly
toward our encreaſing the number of
double and proliferous flowers.
The general method, and the great
firſt material I have given in a preceding
work *, not being able then to go farther.
The reſult of ſeveral of the trials had not
then been tranſmitted me; and 'tis not
a ſubject on which to indulge conjecture.
Diſcoveries, tho' ever ſo imperfect, have
their value; but fancy and vague gueſs
weuld render all confuſion.
THE
* On double flowers,

( 32 )
The principles are theſe. Of the five
fubftances which conſtitute an entire plant,
two only are concerned in the doubleneſs
and proliferation of the flowers here con-
fidered. Theſe are the blea and the fleſhy
ſubſtance; the third and fourth parts,
counting from the ſurface. The fleſhy
fubftance breaks into the filaments, which,
when they become luxuriant, form petals,
and occaſion doubleneſs : The blea, when
it is made redundant, riſes into a ſtalk be-
yond the flower, and gives proliferation.
The luxuriance of the fleſhy ſubſtance
is owing to an encreaſe of nouriſhment :
and fo is the redundance of the blea. But
an encreaſe of general nouriſhment affect-
ing all parts equally, only enlarges the
entire plant.
THERE are peculiar foils which encreaſe
particular parts of vegetables, and they
muft owe this to particular ingredients.
In ſome parts of Northamptonſhire the
Ash grows ſo tall and fine, that the moſt
incurious cannot but obſerve it. On ex-
amining ſome of theſe trees when felld,
I found the blea bore an over proportion
to the reſt of the parts; and that it had
obtain'd alſo a peculiar cloſe and even
ſtructure. A well which was then diging
in the neighbourhood, gave opportunity
of examining the ſoil. The upper coat
of

( 33 )
of mould was not deep: a broken ſtratum
of ſtone lay under that, and beneath this
a bed of a looſe clay. Under theſe three
lay a ſtratum of vaſt depth, moiſt, mel-
low, and full of the remains of vegetable
matter ; ſuch as we ſee in bogs; but
mouldering to duſt: this, tho' moiſt, was
not abſolutely wet; and it was encom-
pafs'd with an abſolute fenny mould. Into
this peculiar bed of earth I found the Ath
roots penetrated ; and doubtleſs 'twas to
that accident the encreaſe of blea was
owing.
This opinion is ſtrengthned by the deep
Scotch ſoil, which makes the Geum pro-
liferous in wild nature ; and as we know
an encreaſe of blea gives additional height
in that plant, 'tis probable from the ſame
cauſe, the Aſh trees are in this place tall,
as well as ſwelld with this thicken'd fub-
ftance.
The Beach in Suſſex has a peculiar ex-
cellence, as the Ath in that other county,
but it confifts in a different article. The
tree is no taller than elſewhere, but the
wood is more in quantity and better. The
blea is leſs in quantity in the Suſſex Beech
than in that of Buckinghamſhire, but the
wood is encreafed and rendered finer. This
is not univerſal in the county : the late
Duke of Richmond was curious to exa-
F
mine
a

( 34 )
:
mine the timber in many places, and I had
the honour to attend him : in ſome we
found it thus particularly fine ; in others
not : The cauſe did not occur at that time,
but by enquiries fince, I find wherever
the Beech was thus improved there was
MARLE in the ground : Where that was
wanting, there was no ſuch excellence.
We thus fee the ingredients in a foil can
occafion this encreaſe ; and this being fuf-
ficient, it were vain and idle to ſeek any
other cauſe : at leaſt this has a title to be
received as the true, till we know a better;
and thus far we have a right to reaſon by
induction.
The parts of tender plants are the ſame
in number and in nature as thoſe of trees,
only they are leſs firm. The outter and
inner rind of an herb anſwer to the exte-
rior and interior bark of a tree. The blea
has the ſame name in both, as well as the
ſame nature: The fleſh or fleſhy ſubitance
of the plants ſtem, anſwers to the wood
in the trunk of the tree ; and the pith is
the ſame in both.
Trees and plants are capable equally
of having one or other of their conſti-
tuent parts encreaſed by certain kinds of
nouriſhment: We ſee what foils produce
the effect with certainty in trees; and it is
highly probable the ingredients which give
them
a

( 35 )
them that power will do the ſame in
plants; for the ſame cauſe produces na-
turally like effects. This alſo experience
feems to confirm ; but the trials muſt be
more than the time has yet allow'd.
A s proliferous flowers are uſually pro-
duced from double ones; to raiſe a plant
to doubleneſs ſhould be the firſt ſtep to-
wards proliferation. And our endeavours
toward this laſt point will ſucceed beſt
when we ſelect a plant juſt raiſed by art
to perfect doubleneſs. For tho' prolifera-
tion depends immediately on the blea
riſing beyond the flower, yet there is a
neceſſity the fleſhy ſubſtance of the plant
accompany it; and this will be moſt eaſily
obtain'd, while that ſubſtance is itſelf new-
ly made luxuriant. On this foundation
it may be rational to make the attempt by
the following method of culture : ſélect-
ing the Geum as a plant in which the na-
tive principles of doubleneſs and prolifera-
tion both are ſtrong and capable of exert-
ing themſelves even in wild nature. Marle
encreaſes the wood in trees, and a deep
vegetable foil the blea. When the firſt of
theſe parts is encreaſed in plants, double-
neſs follows; and when the latter, proli-
feration : Therefore theſe ſubſtances ad-
ded to a foil by art, and aſſiſted by the full
effect of a good culture, will probably al-
ways,

( 36 )
ways, as they have plainly this year in
fome inſtances, occaſion doubleneſs and
proliferation.
CH A P. IX.
The PRACTICE.
IN July, when the purple Geum flowers
upon its native Hills in Weſtmoreland
or Yorkſhire, mark certain plants for feed.
Select ſuch as have firm ſtalks, a healthy
aſpect, and large flowers. When the
feeds are ripe, cut off the heads; ſhake
off the ſeeds, and ſpread them on a ſhelf
in a dry room : turn them often, and let
them lie twelve days: Then tye them up
in paper bags, and keep them dry,
Mix fome rich paſture mould with
pond mud, rotted cow dung and river
ſand: A barrow of each of theſe to a load
of mould. Add three barrows of rich
crumbly marle, and ſkreen the whole to-
gether. Let this be done in July, and the
heap turned up once a fortnight.
In Auguſt make the feed-bed with this
mould. Defend it from the North winds,
and let it be open only to the morning Sun.
As ſoon as the bed is levelled ſcatter on
the feeds : fift over them half an inch of
mould; and once in three days water the
ground: laying a mat over the bed, and
watering thro' that, not to diſlodge the ſeeds
THE
3

( 37 )
The plants will appear in ſix weeks,
and they muſt be thin'd to two or three
inches diſtance. As the weather grows
ſevere, earth up their tender heads, and
in the extream froſts ſhelter the ground.
Thin them again in ſpring, and keep the
bed clear from weeds, and often watered,
thro' the ſummer. The next Auguſt
make a new and deeper bed of the ſame
kind of ſoil with the firſt; and plant in it
the ſeedlings. Allow them ten inches
diſtance every way.
They would naturally flower the ſuc-
ceeding ſummer, but that muſt be pre-
vented: It may be done by taking them
up ſeveral times; and planting to a diffe-
rent quarter of the heavens. This I have
found will keep the root a year longer
before flowering, and it will be ſo much
ſtronger for the full bloom. Then this
and the marle give the great hope of dou-
bleneſs. In the beginning of October
take up all the roots; turn them about a
fourth part of the horizon, and imme-
diately plant them again. Do the ſame
early in the ſpring; and twice more during
ſummer ; then let them reſt for flowering
the next ſeaſon.
Many of the flowers, when they blow
in this manner, will be double; ſome more
ſome leſs in degree, but all beautiful.
Thus

( 38 )
We are
a
a
Thus are produced double Geums, and
from the moſt double of theſe we may
reaſonably expect proliferation,
to prepare for it thus:
In the autumn of the year preceding their
flowering, mix up this Compoſt. Take
five loads of rich black earth from a moiſt
meadow : mix with it one load and a half
of mould from the bottom of an old ſtack
of faggots; one load of rotted cow dung,
half a load of pond mud, and two barrows
of clean fand. Stir theſe together, and turn
them now and then in the heap.
WHEN the Geums are in flower mark
thoſe which have the moſt vigorous aſpect,
and the doubleſt bloom. In Auguſt make a
bed of this mould four feet thick; and plant
in it thoſe Geum roots at a foot and half
diſtance. Put them in five inches doep ;
and keep the bed well cleared from weeds.
Water it often; and largely in dry ſeaſons.
THE plants will be very fine the next
year, and probably that ſeaſon or the ſuca
ceeding, will give proliferous flowers from
abſolute culture. Theſe will exceed greatly
what wild nature offers ; becauſe they will
be double as well as proliferous.
The ſame courſe of culture may be eaſily
adapted to all the other kinds, which we
already know to be ſometimes proliferous ;
and may be extended to many new ones;
ſelecting always polyandrous plants.
Τ Η Ε Ε Ν D.
DIRECTIONS to the BINDER.
Plate 1. to face page 6.-Pl. 2. p. 10.- Pl. 3. p. 14.- Pl. 42
p. 18. -- Pl. 5. p. 22. - Pl. 6. p. 26.- Pl. 7, p. 30.



THE
S L E E P
L
Р
OF
PLANTS,
Α Ν Τ S,
A N D
CAUSE of MOTION
IN THE
SENSITIVE PLANT,
EXPLAINED.
By J. HILL, M. D.
In a LETTER to
L I N N Æ U S.
The SECOND EDITION.
LONDON:
Printed for R. BALDWIN, in Pater-nofter-row,
M.DCC.LXII.

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arts o simbolibs sed digniw do noil
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ilman al bas eneq goigooll sdi ballisa
BODO-Staald und Sloooote vo
buotomobiv bost 1000 yas de ba
wod
is

Advertiſement.
TH
HE public will pleaſe to excuſe any par-
ticularity of ſtyle in the ſucceeding pam-
phlet ; ſince its appearance is accidental in this
form. I promiſe myſelf ſo much indulgence
from their candour, when they ſhall know it
was originally intended to be no more than
the title expreſſes ; a private Letter to a foreign
Naturaliſt.
There is a freedom of ſtyle, and aſſured
manner peculiar to this kind of correſpond-
ence, which would be too aſſuming in works
addreſſed immediately to the public; and
might not unnaturally draw upon the author a
cenſure of ſelf-ſufficiency and vanity. This
explanation, I hope, will defend me from ſo
unfair a charge : for indeed no one knows
more the narrow limits of human knowledge;
or entertains an humbler opinion of the returns
for years of application.
That the experiments which were the occa-
fion of writing it, have added their mite to the
ſtores of ſcience, will be allowed; for it has
not before been known, that thoſe changes
which are brought on by night, in what are
called the ſleeping plants, and in the ſenſitive
by a touch, could be at our pleaſure occaſion-
ed at any hour; and without the touch, or any
other motion.
As
A 2

iv ADVERTISEMEN T.
As this depends ſolely on removing the
cauſe which kept them awake (ſo it is the fa-
fhion to ſpeak), and expanded, it will be al-
lowed alſo that cauſe, though hitherto undiſ-
covered, is known.
This is the utmoſt of the diſcovery; and
from this I perſuade myſelf nothing can be
taken.
The word Sleep, uſed on this occaſion, will,
I am afraid, appear to the judicious Britiſh eye,
an affected, as well as improper term: but the
application of it lies at another's charge ; and
perhaps the manner of the country where he
is native, will excuſe it. Having thus diſ-
claimed the word, I ſhall be pardoned for
uſing it in the following diſcourſe, when the
reader conſiders it as a private letter, written
to the perſon who firſt adopted the expreſſion.
The preſerving that term, and publiſhing
the whole with the particularities which gave
occaſion to this apology, has been owing to a
ſtrict regard to truth; which prompted me to
lay the letter before the public unaltered, ra-
ther than amended: nor has the publication of
it in England, where the taſte of ſcience is
not general, any other motive, than to ſave
the tediouſneſs of tranfcribing, for the uſe of a
few, who have been pleaſed to flatter me by
their deſire of preſerving the diſcovery in its
original form.o's ned odio si do svod I
Tobias ao vd boonsulaimu yllsups : 2911
boonebs de soneio eodiei 1.1897
)
Roomad om mig lliw uov bos
ir ons hood To

ти a Neg 1) лауа
so gaivomor no ylelo abasgob id
home home
次
​TOT D
lion 0119 021060 690 Osowo
wone bonovo
Bibe
bns To THE CELEBRATED
aid
od to gain son balio eidt to
LINN Æ U S.
Ι Ν Ν
cepe din suobiboj od
iboi odtog birt
ga bisits to
adidud
យ
1000T 15 was bons te
se T is not ftrange to you to be addreſ-
I fed from remote countries ; nor in
El
ms the cauſe of ſcience can it be unwel.
bancome. ad llant blow 50 bumiclo
Probably you have leſs expected this from
me than any other; but I will not ſuppoſe you
have leſs deſired it: The ſame purſuits have a
long time engaged our attention; and it could
not be that I fhould paſs over your great name
in filence. If our opinions have differed, 'tis
upon a fingle point ; your arrangement of
plants. In regard to that much greater article,
the eſtabliſhing their diſtinctions, and aſcer-
taining their characters, I have always admired
and reverenced you: to diſpute your determi-
nations chere, were to deny the characters of
nature. 1913 o balcolo ad avec odw.ws
.
Free in the tribute of applauſe on this head,
I have on the other been as open in my cen-
ſures ; equally uninfluenced by envy, and by
fear. It is thus ſcience may be advanced ;
and you will permit me to ſay, thus men of
candour ſhould treat one another. In this
light I perſuade myſelf you have always ſeen
my

( 6 )
)
my conduct toward you : that you have read
with the fame equal temper the cenſures of the
Britiſh Herbal, wherein it came before me to
examine fyftems; and the juſt applauſe of
Eden, where the characters of genera, and di-
ftinctions of ſpecies were moſt to be conſider-
ed; and that you will receive theſe impartial
thoughts with more ſatisfaction, than all the
little flattery of your pupils, or ignorant ap-
plauſe of thoſe who have not underſtood your
writings.
Syſtems are vague and unſubſtantial , but
thoſe diſtinctions are invariable and everlaſt-
ing: and many diſtributions may be formed
upon the diſcoveries you have made of them.
In this eſſential part of botany you have alone
done more than all who wrote before you :
and I am convinced you will entertain no en.
mity againſt me, who with equal freedom
point out theſe excellencies, and what have
appeared to me your imperfections; that you
will read thoſe cenſures with no more reſent
ment than I wrote with malice; and will ſee
what foundation to build your fame : for ]
have often ſaid, and the world will ſay it,
your fyſtem is repugnant to nature, although
your characters are her own. wod 1 W
This is the opinion I entertain of you, and
in this confidence addreſs to you the preſent
treatiſe : an attempt to explain the cauſe of a
quality in vegetables, whoſe effects none has
obferved with ſo much diligence or accuracy
as yourſelf.
teguinca dinding lot aniovla
SE C
on

( 7 )
bsored SECTION 1. wbros var
alt 10 29 so od samo toup,
om din
lo
os That the leaves of certain plants aſſume at
night a diſpoſition different from that of the
day, has been long known; Acoſta records it
of the Tamarind; Alpinus of that tree, and
of the Abrus * ; and from theſe, all who fol-
lowed : Alpinus extends the obſervation to re-
veral other of the Egyptian kinds; and
you
have carried it much farther among the Eu-
ropean.
Iu That Author conceived it a proviſion of na-
ture for the defence of the nobler parts, the
flowers and fruit : and he particularly obſerves
of the Tamarind, that its leaves embrace the
tender pods.
This opinion Ray diſclaimed, though he al-
lowed the fact : but you have adopted it. I
think it will appear upon a ſtrict examination,
that the change itſelf is a natural effect, reſult-
ing from the common properties of bodies,
and their operations upon one another; and
that the author of nature has in many in-
ſtances made it effectual to that great purpoſe;
though in others it happens equally, without
anſwering ſuch end.
We fee how far the obſervations of earlier
writers carried the diſcovery; how much far-
ther your own: and I perſuade myſelf you
will accompany me with ſatisfaction in a more
deep reſearch.
?
* Glycine foliis pinnatis conjugatis, pinnis ovatis ob-
longis, obtufis.
You

( 8 )
You have deſerved greatly of the world in
this and other inſtances, by tracing nature's
ſteps, and recording thoſe obſervations. To
relate theſe facts is to give the hiſtory of na-
ture: but there is ſomething more within our
reach: The human mind, daring, though
weak, and inquiſitive under all its limitations,
ſeeks, and fometimes not unhappily, their
cauſes.
not to
There have not been wanting from the time
when this property in vegetables was firſt re-
garded, ſome who have fought its origin; but
all yet unſucceſsfully. Thoſe who ſuppoſed it
the effect of heat and cold, might for a long
time ſeem to have judged rightly; but when
we find the fame thing happen with equal re-
gularity in ſtoves, where there is no change in
the temperature of the air, we are convinced
that opinion cannot be juſt.
They were as far from truth, who ſuppoſed
the health or fickneſs of the plant of any con-
ſequence in this reſpect; nor can I affirm that
I have found nature in all inſtances confirm
your obſervation, that it is more obvious in
young plants than old.
It will appear from the following trials, that
the ſleeping and the fenfitive plants are natu-
rally allied; that their motions, though differ-
ently brought on, are dependent on the ſame
principle; that many of the ſleepers approach
to the quality of the ſenſitives; and that all
the ſenſitives have theirs.
This will ſhew the ſubjects are connected,
and the principal experiments will prove, that,
e
with

Di bhrow aile 3 ( 9 ) by
with this connection, the principle of their
motion is alſo found.
If I can cloſe the Abrus leaves at noon-day,
and open them again at pleaſure, you will
own, I know the principle of their change of
pofition.
If I can throw down, as well as cloſe the
leaves of the ſenſitive plant, without a touch,
by removing the power which keeps them
erect, and expanded, you will acknowledge
the latent principle of their motion is alſo un-
derſtood.
We always know the cauſe of thoſe effects
we can ourſelves produce; and experiments
are the true teſt of reaſoning.
a
of
SECT. II.
We ſee a great number of plants cloſe their
leaves at evening. The fact is as obvious as it
is ſtrange : but we know every effect has its
cauſe; and we are to ſeek this, not by vague
conjecture, but in the eſtabliſhed properties of
bodies, and their known influence, in differ-
ent caſes, upon one another.
The ſtructure of plants we may eaſily know;
and of no part more perfectly than of the
leaves : for a good microſcope ſhews their
ſmalleſt veins.
Between the two ſkins of the leaf, which
are continuations of the outer rind of the ſtalk,
there run innumerable fibres of a larger kind;
with cluſters of more minute ones, in various
forms among them.
B
The

( 10 )
ز
power.com
The large veſſels are of a woody ſubſtance ;
hollow; and ſmaller all the way from the baſe
of the leaf: they are collected together in a
compact manner in the footſtalk; with deli-
cate cluſters at its baſe : and they are originally
ſent from the ftem. V bem
They ſerve to ſupport the leaf in its proper
poſition; and therefore whatever external or
internal cauſe affects them, will change that
poſition bilo to lovsw os fod
This is the conſtruction of the part to be in-
fluenced; the queſtion remains, what it is that
affects it; and to know that we are to examine
whatever may have ſuch power.
Leaves thus conſtructed are always fur-
rounded by the air ; and they are occaſionally
and variouſly influenced by heat, light, and
moiſture: The air alſo itſelf being in a conti-
nual ſtate of variation, its alterations are to be
conſidered as poffible ſubordinate cauſes of
change.
Steroaldiggol
Theſe things, and theſe only, come within
contact of plants, or within the ſphere of in-
fluence. Bodies do not affect bodies, but on
contact, or within that ſphere : therefore the
cauſe of the change of poſition in leaves, is to
be fought among theſe agents, and no other.
They are naturally complicated, and they
act on moſt occaſions together. We are there-
fore to obſerve, firſt, what effects reſult from
their mutual combinations in a ſtate of nature :
and having aſſigned in theſe caſes the effect to
the proper and particular cauſe, from this
power of that agent, whichfoever it is, that
acts
a

( II11
)
acts thus in concert with the reſt, we may de-
duce its operations fingly.
dago beralloon
ob diw SECT. III.
lledigiro ou adi base
Pinnated leaves, ſuch as are compoſed of
numerous lobes, or ſmaller leaves placed on a
common foot-ſtalk, are moſt remarkable for
their change of pofition: it will be therefore
beſt to wave all other conſideration here; and
obſerve ſolely the condition of theſe.
The four agents we have named are univer-
fal; but we ſhall find their operation differs in
various climates. In theſe temperate king-
doms, our native plants which have pinnated
leaves, naturally hold the lobes nearly hori-
zontal, and ſhew but a moderate ſenſibility in
this reſpect; in the hotter regions of the Eaſt,
the uſual poſition of the lobes in theſe plants
is turning upwards, and they are extremely
ſuſceptible of change of poſture ; in Ægypt
moſt of all: in the more northern nations, on
the contrary, they ſcarce ever reach an hori-
zontal poſition, and they ſhew very little
change on any occaſion.
As we fee different appearances in theſe
parts of plants in hot, temperate, and cold
climates; obfervations of a like kind ſhew,
they are not leſs variouſly affected in the ſame
kingdoms in rainy and fair ſeaſons. In thoſe
places where there are regular periods of rainy
weather, the change in the face of the pin-
nated plants is very great, and certain : Thoſe
which in the fair months carry their lobes in
B2
an

( 12 )
an obtufe angle upwards, conſtantly hang them
obtuſely downward in the time of the rains.
Theſe are the obſervations of curious voy-
agers; and they have been confirmed by the
immediate notice of botaniſts in thoſe places.
The firſt would ſeem at once to give the effect
to heat; and the other to moiſture: but far-
ther obſervation fhews it is otherwiſe. You
have juſtly obſerved, that the ſame thing hap-
pens to plants in the ſtove, where there is no
alteration in point of heat ; and I have found
by careful trial, that moiſture has in the ſame
reſpect no effect: I have for this purpoſe wa-
tered ſome plants almoſt to deſtruction, and
left others of the ſame kind dry; and no al-
teration has been made by this: They all ex-
pand, or raiſe their leaves in the morning, and
drop them in the evening;' at the ſame hour
and in the ſame degree. dom stad
Two of the four natural agents, heat and
moiſture, are therefore excluded from any
ſhare in this effect : the air is too univerſal,
and its changes too much depend on theſe, to
be admitted in the reſearch. The attention
therefore falls on light alone: and I have
found by many experiments, that the change
of poſition in the leaves of plants at different
periods of the day and night, is owing to this
agent and no other. This is the diſcovery I
perſuade myſelf I have made, and I ſhall en-
deavour to fhew, that it is founded on reaſon,
and ſupported by experiments.
Nor is there any thing ſtrange in the effect,
when duly examined. By excluding the fup-
pofed cauſes, we have diſcovered the real, for
there

(13)
3
there remained no other: and in examining
the ſubject, on the principles here laid down,
we ſhall find not only that no other power
could produce the effect; but that light inevi-
tably muſt. effiod to siton sibam
Theſe are the diſcoveries on which the ever-
lafting feal of truth is ftamped; which reaſon
dictates; and which experiments confirm.
-ged gaidia sch
on ai 9750 SECT. IV. na on
brwol syed I bossed to Og i motit
9. We have propoſed to ſearch the latent prin-
ciple of this change in the qualities of bodies,
and their natural operations upon one another.
We have fhewn what is the ſtructure of
leaves in general; and it will now be proper
to fix on ſome one in particular: Let us chuſe
for this purpoſe an Egyptian plant, ſince thoſe
fhew the effect moſt of all; and among theſe
none can be more proper than the Abrus, ce-
lebrated for it by the earlier writers.
The leaf of this plant conſiſts of thirteen
pair of lobes, fixed by very ſhort and ex-
tremely flender footſtalks to the middle rib;
and this to the main ſtem of the plant. otstan
Examining its internal ſtructure by the mi-
croſcope, we find a number of delicate fibres,
riſing from the central part of the main ſtem,
and continued in a courſe obliquely upwards,
through the intermediate parts, and to the
out-fide of the rind. Here they ſwell ; and
run into ſeveral regular cluſters, ſpreading
downward and on each fide ; and thefe form
(under the continued covering of the ſtem) the
oso ottavo
baſe
a

( 14 )
From this part
baſe of the common footſtalk, or middle rib of
the leaf.
From this part they are carried in a ſmall
compacted bundle, ſtrait forward to the ex-
tremity of the rib; and there, as there is no
odd lobe to cloſe the leaf, they terminate in a
point, covered by the common integuments.
From each ſide of this middle rib riſe the
footſtalks of the ſeparate lobes. They are
formed of a multitude of delicate vefſels,
ranged cloſe together, and confined by the
covering, which is the common rind of the
plant continued to that part.
At the baſe of each lobe there is another
complex cluſter of fibres.
they are protended forward, ſtrait to the end
of the lobe; and they ſend out only flight
branches into the ſeveral parts of the leaf.
This is the particular fabrick of the Abrus
leaf, as ſeen upon a careful diſſection, and
with a good microſcope: it agrees with the
general conſtruction, we have given before, as
the common courſe of nature in theſe parts ;
and it will regularly explain the change of
poſture in the lobes, under the different influ-
ence of light.
Light is fubtile, active, and penetrating; by
the ſmallneſs of its conſtituent parts, it is ca-
pable of entering bodies; and by the violence
of its motion, of producing great effects and
changes in them. Theſe are not permanent,
becauſe thoſe rays which occaſion them, are,
in that very action, extinguiſhed, and loft.
Bodies may act on light without contact ;
for the rays will be reflected when they come
extremely

( 15 )
are loft.
extremely near: but light can act on bodies
only by contact; and in that contact the rays
The change produced in the poſition of the
leaves of plants by light, is the reſult of its
motion occafioned by its rays among their
fibres : to excite this motion, the light muſt
touch thoſe fibres; and where light touches, it
adheres, and becomes immediately extinguiſh-
ed.
ز
SECT. V.
و
Theſe are the everlaſting and invariable
properties of light: and, according to theſe,
the change we attribute to it, being once ef-
fected, muſt be continued as naturally and as
neceſſarily as it began, ſo long as the light con-
tinues, and no longer.
The raiſing of the lobes in theſe leaves will
be owing to the power of thoſe rays which at
any one inſtant fall upon them : theſe become
extinguiſhed; but others immediately ſucceed
to them, ſo long as the air in which the plant
ſtands, is enlightened. It ought therefore to
be ſeen, that in full light, the lobes continue
in their moſt raiſed pofition; and that they
droop from that in proportion as the light
becomes leſs.
This which appears neceſſary from the
powers of light, and the conſtruction of leaves,
is true alſo in fact,
We have ſeen that the footftalks of theſe
lobes, are cluſters of fibres protended from the
center of the ſtem; that they are continued
through
3

( 16 )
through the lobes; and that they ſupport them
in their poſition, whatſoever it is.
The effect of light upon theſe fibres is the
putting them into an inceſſant vibration : This
happens neceffarily from the continual impul-
fion and extinction of the corpuſcles, of
which light is compoſed, and the freſh im-
pulſion of others, upon the extinction of the
firft.
It cannot be, but that a cluſter of delicate
fibres, affected inceſſantly by theſe concuſ-
fions, muſt be put into a vibrating motion ;
and this will be greater, as the light is more,
and weaker as it is leſs.
This vibration is fimple in the expanded
fibres; but it operates as variouſly as diſtin-
guiſhably on thoſe cluſters of them which are
placed at the baſes of the main rib, and of the
ſeveral footſtalks of the lobes.
It is on the operation of light upon theſe
interwoven cluſters of fibres, that the motion
of the leaves in gaining their different pofi-
tion depends; and confequently, the motion
itſelf is various, according to the conſtruction
of thoſe cluſters.
In the Abrus they are large, and of a lax
compoſition; confequently the lobes are capa-
ble of a drooping, an horizontal, and an ob-
lique upward poſition : in the Tamarind, and
the broad-leaved Robinia, they are more com-
pact, and hence all the motion of which thoſe
leaves are capable, is an expanding open, and
a cloſing fideways; which the direction and
courſe of the fibres alſo favours; in the Par-
kinſonia they are ſmaller, and yet more com-
pact

( 17 )
pact; and the conſequence of this is, that its
lobes have no farther poffible motion, than the
expanding and cloſing upwards.
Hence the effects of a full light are differ-
ent on various of the pinnated leaves ; raiſing
the lobes of fome, as the Abrus, and opening,
or expending thoſe of others, as the Parkinſo-
nia.
The impulſe of light, and the vibration it
produces, are the ſame in all theſe inſtances :
but the direction of that motion into which
the lobes are thrown, is according to the
courſe of the fibres; and the quantity of it, in
equal degrees of light, to the conſtruction of
thoſe reticulated cluſters.
This univerſally appears on examination of
the cluſters of fibres by a microſcope, and ob-
ſervation of the motion of the lobes: that
motion being univerſally of greater extent,
where the cluſters of fibres are longer, and
more looſely interwoven; and of lefs, where
they are ſhorter, and more compact.
The effect of light upon bodies we ſee is
to put their parts into a vibrating motion ; the
conſtruction of pinnated leaves is ſuch as na-
turally admits and propagates that influence ;
and the cluſters of fibres are as a kind of
joints on which their lobes are capable, under
the influence of light, of a certain limited
motion.
As the ſtate of water uninfluenced by heat
is ice, the natural poſition of the lobes in
theſe pinnated leaves is drooping. This is
their poſture of repoſe : but in this they were
not intended by the author of nature to re-
с
a
main;

( 18 )
main; for vegetation is very imperfectly per-
formed, while they are in it.
The effect of light is this vibration, and the
alteration of poſition in thoſe lobes. This is
the doctrine here advanced, and this is ſup-
ported by the following experiments.
SECT. VI.
I removed a plant of the Abrus from a
ſtove, in the evening of the ſeventh of Au-
guft, and placed it in my ſtudy, where it
could have the effect of moderate day-light,
without being expoſed to the immediate ac-
tion of the ſun.
This might be conceived the moſt natural
and equable degree of light; and therefore
fitteſt for the firſt experiments.
The lobes of the leaves were at evening,
when the plant was brought in, fallen perpen-
dicularly from the middle rib, and cloſed to-
gether by their under fides.
Thus they continued during the night ; in
a ſtate of perfect repoſe. Half an Hour after
day-break they began to ſeparate; and in a
quarter of an hour after fun-riſe ſtood hori-
zontally; flat, and perfectly expanded. Long
before ſun-ſet they began to droop again ; and
toward evening they were cloſed underneath,
ز
as at firſt.
Next day the plant was ſet in a room where
there was leſs light. The lobes were raiſed in
the morning ; but not to a horizontal ſituation;
and they drooped earlier at evening,
The
ز

( 19 )
3
The third day it was ſet in a ſouth win-
dow, open to the full fun. Early in the
morning the leaves had attained their horizon-
tal ſituation ; by nine o'clock they were raiſed
conſiderably; and they continued in this ſtate
till toward evening, when they by degrees
fell to the horizontal ſituation; and from that
drooped gradually to the uſual ſtate of reſt.
The fourth day the plant ſtood in the ſame
place, but the ſun did not appear. The lobes
obtained early their horizontal ſituation, but
did not riſe beyond it; and in the evening
cloſed as uſual, below.
SECT. VII.
Theſe experiments ſhew the effects of va-
rious degrees of light : at the ſame time, that
they prove the whole change to be occaſioned
by light only.
The effect of moderate light, that is, the
light of a bright day out of the fun-fhine, is
to raiſe the lobes to an horizontal poſition :
Leſs than this places them at an obtuſe angle
downwards : more, at an obtuſe angle up-
wards.
The fifth day the plant was ſet in a leſs en-
lightened room : and the leaves had obtained
by nine o'clock their poſition at an obtuſe
angle downward : it was then brought into
the lighter room, and they roſe to the hori-
zontal ſituation in a quarter of an hour. It
was then removed to the window, where the
fun fhone, and the lobes were elevated as
C2
before ;
a

( 20 )
5
before ; and being thence carried into the leſs
light room, they drooped again. All theſe
changes were produced between the hours of
nine and two, the weather the ſame, and only
the place of the plant changed.
On the ſixth day it remained in moderate
light; and kept its leavés horizontal.
On the ſeventh I made the final experi-
ment.
It appeared to me, that if light were the
fole cauſe of the motion, and change of pofi-
tion in the leaves, then denying the plant the
benefit of light at any time, muſt bring on
that change: that it would not be difficult to
darken the place where the plant ſtood, at
any time: and that the conſequence of this
muſt be, if the principles already laid down
were true, a bringing on of the change at any
time of the day. This experiment appeared
as a juſt proof of the foregoing reaſonings :
if darkneſs would at any time throw down the
lobes, the ſyſtem of that motion before deli-
vered muſt be true; if not, that all the reaſon-
ings muſt be falſe.
The aſſent of the world muſt alſo depend
Deductions of reaſon may be dif-
puted, but it will be allowed certainly, that
we underſtand the cauſe of a change we can
produce
In the evening of the fixth day I ſet the
plant in a book-caſe, on which the morning
fun fhines ; and throwing open the doors,
left the whole to nature. The ſucceeding day
was bright. The lobes which had met in
on this.
their

( 21 )
their drooping poſition at evening, and conti-
nued ſo during the night, began to open
early in the morning, and by nine o'clock
they had paſſed their horizontal ſituation, and
were elevated in the uſual manner.
I then ſhut the doors of the book-cafe :
the plant was by this left in darkneſs; and on
opening them an hour afterwards, the full
change had happened: the lobes were all drop-
ped, and it was in the ſame ſtate that it would
have ſhewn at midnight.
On the opening of the doors the change
began very ſoon: and in twenty minutes the
lobes had obtained their elevated ſituation.
This experiment I have fince many times re-
peated, and always with the ſame fucceſs.
It is in our power therefore to bring on this
ſtate of repoſe at pleaſure ; and by the ad-
miſſion or excluſion of light, to make the
plant at our own time put on all its changes,
from the drooping to the moſt elevated poſi-
tion of the lobes.
We know that in theſe experiments, light
alone is the cauſe : we are therefore certain,
that what is called the ſleep of plants, is the
effect of the abſence of light alone, and that
their various intermediate ſtates are owing to
its different degrees.
SE C T. VIII.
This being explained, a ſecond diſcovery
follows naturally. The motion of the ſenfi-
tive plant, at the cauſe of which no philofo-
pher

( 22 )
pher has hitherto ventured a conjecture, is in
a great meaſure owing to the fame principles :
and the explanation of it, which before the
effect of light upon the leaves of plants was
thus ſhewn, muſt have been inveloped in im-
penetrable obſcurity, may now be regularly
purſued.
The fenfitive plant, beſide its fingular qua-
lity of cloſing and dropping its leaves upon
the touch, is ſubject to the ſame changes with
the Abrus, and thoſe other kinds, we have
named from the effect of light.
Thefe natural, as well as the accidental
motions on the touch, I have traced regularly
in the common ſenſitive plant: but before we
enter on the detail of thoſe obſervations, it
will be proper to remark, how nearly ſome
other plants approach to the quality of this,
and the other ſpecies of ſenſitive ; which
they have been hitherto ſuppoſed to poſſeſs
alone.
This ſurprizing quality is a power of motion
in the lobes and their footſtalks. No change
of poſition can be made without motion of the
parts, therefore the Abrus, and all theſe other
plants have alſo motion.
They agree with the ſenſitive in diſplaying
this motion from the power of light; and all
that remains particular in the ſenſitive is, that
it is capable of the ſame motion from another
cauſe. This is an accidental ſhock of its
parts.
SECT

(
23 )
SECT. IX.
a
a
Even that is a quality common to fome
other kinds, though in an inferior degree :
for a Tamarind tree has lately under my ob-
ſervation, cloſed its leaves on motion.
A flouriſhing plant of this, a yard high, be-
ing brought from Mr. Lee's nurſery at Ham-
merſmith, to me in St. James's Street, in the
middle of the day, came in with its leaves
cloſed, as it naturally has them at midnight,
and as the ſenſitive plant on being touched.
An Abrus ſuffered no change under the
like circumſtances.
Hence we infer, that the ſame conſtruction
of parts, which gives the ſenſitive plant the
power of motion, is in the Tamarind tree,
though leſs delicate ; ſo that a ruder ſhock is
required to bring on the change.
It is in a lower degree alſo in the Abrus,
for light has that power, though the effect
cannot, ſo far as we have yet ſeen, be pro-
duced by a ſhock.
Plants which ſuffer this change from the
effect of light, may, though they do not uni-
verſally, ſhew it alſo from motion ; and all
plants which are capable of this change by
motion, ſuffer it alſo from the abſence of
light.
Light gives their leaves that poſition, from
which they are to be thrown by a touch : and
the abſence of light takes the ſame effect with
that touch; though in a flower manner.
The

( 24 )
31
The ſenſitive plant at noon-day has its
leaves raiſed and expanded. The footſtalks
make an acute angle with the main ſtem, and
the two leaves which grow on each of the
firſt or lower ones, ſtand remote from one an-
other. The lobes which compoſe theſe, are
about twelve pair to each, and theſe alſo ſtand
in an horizontal direction.
Thus the young plant appears in the mid-
dle hours of day. At the approach of even-
ing, the lobes begin to draw themſelves toge-
ther upwards, as in the Parkinſonia ; and the
middle rib of each approaches toward the
other: at night the lobes are as entirely ſhut
upwards, as thoſe of the Abrus downward,
the two ribs are placed cloſe to each other;
and the footſtalk which ſupports them both,
hangs down.
This is the ſtate of repoſe of the ſenſitive
plant: into this it falls every night naturally ;
and into this it may, in the ſame manner as
the Abrus, be thrown at noon-day in a dark-
ened place.
و
3
S E C T. X.
As we have ſeen the cauſe of this change
in the Abrus to be light, and have traced the
manner of the operation ; it is eaſy to follow
it alſo in the ſenſitive plant, through the ſame
courſe of enquiry.
At the baſe of the footſtalk, where it joins
the main ſtem, there is a cluſter of complex
fibres : Theſe have riſen from the inner part,
and pierced the woody ſides,
From

(25)
و
From this complex cluſter, the fibres proceed
in a ſtrait line up the foot talk, till at the head
of that, where the two leaves riſe, there is
another ſuch cluſter : thence the fibres run
ſtrait the length of the main rib, and ſend out
on each ſide other cluſters at the baſe of every
lobe. From theſe more minute fibres run
ftrait through the leaf, and ſend out lateral
ſhoots.
This the microſcope diſcovers plainly; and
this ſhews that not only the natural motions
of the ſenſitive plant are the ſame with thoſe
of the Abrus and others, but that the con-
ſtruction alſo is the ſame in its kind, though
more complex.
In the night the ſenſitive plant is not capa-
ble of the common motion on the touch, for
the leaves are already in the condition whereto
they would be reduced by it. In the day
they riſe and ſpread : and 'tis then the ſtrange
effect appears on touching them.
Light expands the lobes, ſeparates the ribs,
and raiſes the footſtalks. It does this, by
putting all the parts of them in a vibrating
motion. This we have ſeen in the Abrus, is
principally effected by means of thoſe cluſters
of fibres which are placed at the baſes of the
footſtalks. In this plant, as there are no leſs
.
than three ſets of thoſe cluſters, the effects of
the ſame principle are naturally much greater
than in the Abrus, where there is only one.
The vibration of the parts is that which
keeps the leaves of the ſenſitive plant in their
expanded and elevated ſtate: This is owing
to a delicate motion continued through every
D
fibre

( 26 )
33
fibre of them. When we touch the leaf, we
give it another motion more violent than the
firſt: this overcomes the firſt: the vibration is
ſtopped by the rude ſhock: and the leaves
cloſe, and their footſtalks fall, becauſe that
vibrating motion is deſtroyed which kept them
elevated and expanded.
That the power of motion in the ſenſitive
plant depends upon the effect of light on the
expanded ſurface of the leaves, is certain; for
till they are expanded, they have no ſuch
power. The young leaves, even when grown
man
to half an inch in length, have no motion on
the touch, though rough and ſudden.
To propagate the motion when the leaves
are in a ſtate to ſhew it, there requires a per-
fect and confirmed ſtate of thoſe cluſters of
fibres lodged at their baſe. This is evident :
for when the young leaf has firſt come into
the ſtate of vibration, a touch will make its
lobes cloſe ; but the effect is not continued
down the footſtalk, till it is more confirmed.
No ſhock on the young leaf will affect the
footſtalk before it is expanded : hence the
cluſters of fibres at the baſes of the lobes firſt
acquire their due condition for motion; and
afterwards thoſe at the head of the main foot-
Italk.
Costa 90
As there requires a due firmneſs to give the
cluſters of fibres the ſuſceptibility of motion,
and power of propagating it farther; there
needs alſo a concurrence of favouring circum-
ftances, to preſerve them in that delicate
ſtate wherein they are capable of exerting theſe
powers.
de arme
The
ز
:

( 27 )
sol
10.
The cold air hardens the fibres and impairs
their fuſceptibility of motion. The ſenſitive
plant becomes more languid in this reſpect
when removed out of the ſtove.
hos
Pori
The correſpondence between this motion,
and what you have called the ſleep of plants,
or their natural cloſing of their leaves at
night, appears alſo
alſo in this inſtance: for as the
ſenſitive by being removed out of the ſtove,
loſes in fome degree the quality of cloſing its
leaves on the touch, the Tamarind by the ſame
change loſes in great part its quality of cloſing
the leaves at evening. This is probably ow-
ing to the juices ftagnating in the cluſters of
fibres, and to the contraction of the bark by
cold.
fois
The communication of motion is leſs from
the lobes to the footſtalk; and greater from
the footſtalk to them. The greateſt ſhock is
given to the plant by a rude touch of the
ftem : but even this does not affect the unex-
panded or young leaves.
The analogy between the effect of a ſudden
30.00
motion, and of the abſence of light is con-
firmed alſo by this; for as light decays natu-
rally at evening, or artificially by ſhutting up
the plant, the lobes firſt cloſe, and the foot-
ſtalks afterwards fall.
asuna
The power of abſolute darkneſs is greater
on the ſenſitive plant, than that of the rudeſt
touch. The rudeſt touch will only cauſe the
lobes of the ſeparate leaves to cloſe, and the
footſtalks to hang down: the two leaves will
remain far aſunder. The effect of abſolute
darkneſs exceeds this ; for the two leaves
D2
clofo
03
a

( 28 )
.
clofe alfo abſolutely together, and it appears
as if the footfalk fupported only one. This
proves that the expanſion of thoſe parts de-
pends ſolely upon the effect of light; and
that although it may be diſturbed by a ſuper-
added and ruder motion, yet it can be taken
away abſolutely only by darkneſs; by the de-
fect of that to which alone it was owing. div
bn Theſe experiments every one may eaſily re-
peat : : the obſervations will be familiarly made
by any who have ſtoves: They are conſtant
and invariable ; and the concluſions from
them are certain ; for no other cauſe inter-
venes.
Saoirsday
The effect of light is continual while the
light continues. The plant therefore whoſe
leaves have been thrown down, and cloſed by
this rude ſhock, is immediately affected by the
light, as at its firſt appearance in the morning,
or as on its admiſſion, when the leaves had
been cloſed by artificial darkneſs. The vibra-
tion begins; and if the light be at its full
ſtrength, the expanſion and elevation of the
lobes is ſo quick, that one may almoſt look
upon the plant, and fee it. A few minutes
often perfects it. bation from ots vad:
That the touch of the leaves no other way
affects them than by a motion greater than
their own internal vibration, is plain from this,
that if they be touched with a finger in ſo de-
liberate and gentle a manner as not to move
them, no effect is produced : and on the other
hand, if they be any other way moved, the
full effect follows.
13 thelas
If

( 29 )
tebna
If the pot be ſhook, though no part of the
plant be touched, the leaves cloſe, and their
footſtalks fall : or if the wind blow them, the
effect is the ſame. od volo lebo
Hence it is certain that the expanſion of the
lobes, and elevation of the footſtalks in theſe
pinnated plants, is occaſioned ſolely by that
vibrating motion, in which their parts are
kept by the continual impulſes of light : and
conſequently that in all of them they col-
lapſe or fink on the abſence of light; and in
the more delicate kinds upon the ſhock of any
ruder motion, which for the prefent ſtops that
vibration.
Hence alſo the different appearance of pin-
nated leaves in various climates is underſtood;
and may be aſſigned to its true cauſe, which
the different degree of light.bodo sbord
In the Eaſt the lobes are expanded, not be-
cauſe of the heat, but becauſe the light is
ſtrong: In the northern kingdoms they droop,
not from cold, but becauſe the air is leſs en-
lightened. In the rainy ſeaſons they alſo
droop, but it is not from the moiſture, but
the darkneſs of the weather and in Ægypt
they are moſt raiſed of all, not becauſe it
never rains ; but becauſe the light is con-
ftant.19
zid The Abrus placed in a ſouth window per-
fectly ſhews this; for the expanſion and ele-
vation of its leaves is proportioned always to
the degree of light, and conſequently it is af-
fected by the cloudy or clear weather, though
the plant remain in the ſame place.
The

(30)
The lobes begin to riſe before the ſun is
above the horizon, becauſe the air is enlight-
ened in a proportioned degree; and they begin
to cloſe again long before it ſets, becauſe in
the ſouth window the ſhadow of the building
darkens the air about them.
In the rainy weather which we have now late-
ly had, the leaves wore the ſame appearance
they would have done in a plant native of a
country where there are ſeaſons of rain ; they
never at any time of the day reached the ho-
rizontal poſition, and they drooped much ear-
lier in the afternoon, and began to expand
much later in the morning.
The ſenſitive plant which was placed near
the Abrus, was affected in the ſame manner :
and by repeated and careful examination, I
have always found, that in both theſe and
in all others, the degree of elevation or ex-
panfion in the lobes, is exactly proportioned to
the quantity of light; as it is ſolely dependent
When the ſenſitive plant has been kept out
but
of a ſtove ſome days, and has loſt fome part of
its power of motion, if the leaf be touched
ſoftly, and the force encreaſed gradually, it
will bear a great deal without drawing up
the
lobes ; but at the ſame time a much leſs pref-
fure given with a ſudden ſtroke will occaſion
their cloſing
In this manner we may alſo trace the extent
and progreſs of the motion according to the
force ; a ſlighter ſhock raiſing only the lobes
that are touched, a harder the oppoſite ones,
and ſo the whole.
Os 51 103
on it.
23
This

( 31
31 )
3
This quality in the leaves of plants, as
their general ſtructure is the ſame, and the
ſame agent operates univerſally, ought to be
found in all; though in various degrees, ac-
cording to the conſtruction of their parts. In
this, as all the preceding inſtances, juſt ob-
fervation confirms the principles deduced from
reaſon. In ſome it is greater, in others leſs;
in many obvious to the common eye, in
others difficultly perceived by the moſt accu-
rate ; but on a ſtrict and cloſe examination,
I have not found any plant or tree wholly
deſtitute of it.
oil
53st donc
SECT. XI.
bon boorld
Bus S
mm
Std A
That the curious who ſhall chuſe to repeat
he experiments mentioned in the preceding
pages, may find no difficulty in that reſpect, I
Thall give the particulars of the plants, and ap-
paratus with
which I made them.
The Abrus, Senſitive, and Tamarind, I
obtained, in pots, from the nurſery of Mr.
Lee, near Hammerſmith: a perſon whoſe in-
duſtry and knowledge in his buſineſs, will
ſome time make him known, to his advan-
tage. u onimabuo
The microſcopes were thoſe of Mr. Cuff.
ado
The Abrus was a flouriſhing plant, of two
feet and a half high: the Tamarind ſome-
thing taller. The Senſitive was a young one ;
in which ſtate there are only two pinnated
leaves
upon
each footſtalk.
A plant of this growth is moſt manageable
out of a ſtove, and was preferred for that rea-
ਹੈ।
fon ;

( 32 )
fon; but the ſame experiments made on thoſe
of larger growth, anſwer in the fame man-
3
ner.
The place where they were kept, unleſs
when removed for the particular experiments
which required it, was a ſouth window.
The Abrus will live very well in ſuch a
fituation at this ſeaſon of the year; and the
Senſitive, with due care, may be kept in to-
lerable perfection in the ſame manner, a fort-
night or three weeks; though much more ten-
der than the other.
The apparatus for the experiments, beſide
the microſcope, conſiſts only of a fine pen-
knife, and a flat board, covered with a piece of
cork, fix inches long, and three broad.dol
In order to trace the courſe of the fibres,
and ſee their cluſters diſtinctly, a leaf of the
Abrus muſt be pulled off, by flipping it down-
ward. This brings away its baſe entire, and is
neceffary for obtaining in perfection the cluſter
which is ſituated there.
The leaf muſt be laid flat upon the cork,
and fixed down by a ſmall pin, thruſt through
the middle rib, a little above the place where
the firſt pair of lobes are inſerted.
There muſt be a good light, and a careful
ſteady hand, and the point of the penknife
muſt be kept ſharp and clean.
It will be eaſy to let this in at the middle of
the rib, a little above the inſertion of the firſt
lobes, and to ſplit the rib thence equally to
the baſe.
The object is neither too minute for the
hand, nor the eye; nor does it require thoſe
powerful

( 33 )
powerful magnifiers, which are often needful,
in the more delicate reſearches.
The cluſter of the fibres at the baſe of the
main footſtalk, will be thus feen: they will
appear cut more or leſs exactly in two, accord-
ing to the diviſion of the ſtalk, and their courſe
and interwoven texture afford a pleaſing ob-
ject.
This is the firſt expermiment to be made ;
and it is very happy that the conſtruction is
ſeen without great difficulty, for it leads the
way to the reſt, which being minute, require
a more ſtrict ſcrutiny.
The courſe of the fibres along the middle
rib, and their cluſtering at the baſes of the
lobes, may be purſued by ſplitting the foot,
ſtalk farther up: but as this is not eaſily done,
I have been uſed to cut off the upper and un-
der part of the leaf, and leaving only a piece,
which has one pair of the lobes, and to cut it
acroſs in the centre of their baſes.
This requires a careful eye, and a very re-
gular preſſure of the penknife ; but with ſo
much caution, it may always be done ſucceſs
fully.
At the baſe of each lobe there will be ſeen
a cluſter, in all reſpects reſembling the firſt,
only more delicate ; and from that the fibres
will be found continued in a ſtrait courſe along
the middle rib, as they are in the ſame way
along the footſtalk, from the firſt cluſter.
This way the eye perceives that there are
ſuch fibres, that they are ſo cluſtered, and that
their courſe is regular from thence. The fact
is ſo aſcertained, but to admire duly the con-
E
ſtruction
i

(34)
in water.
3
weight.
JO
itruction on which this motion depends, the
fibres muſt be ſeparated from all ſurrounding
matter, and laid before the double microſcope
.
ada no babags 29sel edt bois
basqxs ons
The method is this : 101 boftib as enig
Let a leaf be pulled from the Abrus, as be-
fore, and in the fame manner cut into two or
three ſhort pieces; two lobes remaining with
each : let the footſtalk be ſplit firſt at the baſe,
and afterwards croſswiſe at each joint ; thro'
the baſes of the two lobes, and into the centre
of the middle rib of each. nodibnog odT
- Let the ends of the lobes be cut off; and a
number of theſe pieces be put into a laucer of
water, keeping them down by fome little
O nom Jasmin
They muſt lie in this water two or three
-B
days, according to the warmth of the weather;
and at the end of that time they muſt be preſ-
fed gently againſt the bottom of the faucer,
with a piece of mullin tied to the end of a
pen, or other ſuch implement. b sladt
,
This muſt be done with a delicate hand,
and repeated often. They will be thus cleared
from all furrounding matter. The firmneſs
of their own texture will preſerve them. They
muſt be afterwards put into freſh water, and
left four or five hours to ſwell and recover
their firſt diſpoſition ; and then laid in water
before the double microſcope. The courſe of
their fibres in their fimple and cluſtered ſtate,
will be thus perfectly ſeen, and the mechaniſm
by which the motion in the lobes is performed
eaſily underſtood.
The
OF
j

( 35
;
so The method with the Senſitive plant is to
be exactly the ſame. The footſtalk ſupporting
the two leaves, muſt be torn off downwards,
and the leaves expanded on the cork with
pins, as directed for the other. The baſe of
the footſtalk muſt firſt be ſplit with the pen-
knife; then the baſe of each leaf on the head
on
of this ſtalk, and after that the baſe of each
lobe. The conſtruction in this part is very ob-
vious, for it ſwells up extremely, and appears
as a kind of joint, to ſerve the motion.
The condition of the cluſters of fibres when
the footſtalk is juſt ſplit, is more or leſs di-
Ieftinctly feen according to the age of the plant,
the place of the leaf, and the degree of nou-
riſhment. It is moſt diſtinct in a leaf taken
from the lower part of a young plant; but not
the loweſt, or any placed ſo low as to be fade
ing: and in the ſame manner the conſtruction
at the baſe of the lobes is beſt feen in the ſe-
cond pair from the baſe of the footſtalk.
Theſe directions will be uſeful to thoſe who
will not be at the pains to clear the parts in
be water : but that way there is no difficulty in
a bringing the whole plainly and perfectly to
view. I am, Ishq lliw Xo1 wo sis:
bas 1918W 19tointi og abwisits ad fort
1910997 With great reſpect, svit 10 mot 19
1915W ai bisland becoiloqlib finals
20 suo ar SIR, lotim alduob or stoled
91 bsrful
Your Humble Servant,
mil London, mert 591 VOS 119 am ad llw
borRept. 7, ei asdol ar ai nodon da birlwind
$757
bootlebo
OT
JOHN HILL
E 2

INDEX of the Sections, with their
CONTENTS.
1.
OF
F the ſleep of plants, p. 7.
2. Of the ſtructure of leaves in gene-
ral, p. 9.
3. Obſervations made in different kingdoms on
ſleeping plants, p. II.
4. The ſtructure of a leaf of the Abrus, p. 13
5. The cauſe of the change in plants, called
fleep, p. 15.
6. Experiments on a plant of the Abrus, p. 18.
7. More particular experiments on the ſame
plant, p. 19.
8. Of the motion of the ſenſitive plant, p. 21.
9. Of the alliance between the ſenſitive and
fleeping plants, p. 23.
10. The ſtructure of a leaf of the ſenſitive
plant, and the cauſe of its motion, p. 24.
11. The manner of making the experiments,
p.31.
FINI S.



VALERIAN.
OR,
The Virtues of that Root
IN
NERVOUS DISORDERS;
AND
The CHARACTERS which diſtinguish the
TRUE from the FALSE.
By JOHN HILL, M. D.
Illuſtrated with FIGURES.
THE THIRD EDITION.
CxXx
sk h
LOND ON:
Printed for R. Baldwin in Paternoſter-row.
MDCCLVIII.
[ Price One Shilling.)


2016
BET
296
sk ste
sk sk
Meske
V A L Ε R Ι Α Ν.
DI
INTRODUCTION.
***HYSICIANS find uncertainty in the
* P effects of Valerian; and the medicine
V ya
暴龙
​has loſt fome part of its credit: I beg
they will hear the following reaſons.
When the cauſes of that uncertainty are ſhewn,
the remedy will be eaſy.
By the application to theſe purpoſes botany
becomes uſeful to mankind : and 'tis a misfor-
tune the ſcience is ſo little cultivated in Eng-
land. Some ſhould enquire into the ſtate of
drugs; and determine with equal freedom againſt
ignorance and fraud: but this cannot be ex-
pected from the phyſicians; for the ſuperior
care of health does not allow them leiſure: the
age is not deficient in HIPPOCRATES's; but
there wants a Cratevas.
:
C H A P. .
of the Nature of the Root.
BY VALERIAN, we underſtand the root of the
large wild plant of that name : its ſuperior
virtues having baniſhed the other kinds. This
grows on heaths, by rivers, and in woods: but
does
B 2

( 4 )
does, not in all theſe places, equally poſſeſs
its virtues. When in perfection, it is highly
aromatick: we know that quality depends in a
great meaſure, on ſun and air ; and is impaired
always, and often is deſtroyed utterly, by ſhade
and water; therefore the roots of Valerian
which grow upon dry hills and ſun - burnt
heaths, poſſeſs its virtues in the higheſt degree;
and ſuch only ſhould be uſed in medicine. Un-
happily the plant is more common by waters ;
and the roots are in wet places larger, and
more eaſily taken up. A pound of theſe is
brought into the ſhops for a dram of the other:
and as they are greatly inferior in their quali-
ties, the phyſician is diſappointed who depends
a
on them.
Not only the virtues, but the ſtature, colour,
and whole aſpect of the plant are altered by
this watery nouriſhment: and though in reality
the two kinds are only varieties, occaſioned by
the different foil, yet they are ſo conſiderable,
that Ray and others have given the mountain
Valerian, a diſtinct place in their catalogues,
accounting it a different ſpecies from that grow-
ing by waters.
In woods it affumes a form diſtinct from
both; and properly is of a middle kind between
them. Its virtues are alſo of a middle charac-
ter: inferior to thoſe of the heath, and ſuperior
to thoſe of water Valerian.
The excellence of Heath Valerian is ſuch,
that no other ſhould be uſed; and there is
enough of it for the demand. The diſtinc-
tion is obvious, as will appear by the ſucceed-
a
a
a
ing

Pl.I.
LULU
TRUE WILD VALERIAN

ONI
OF
MICH

( 5 )
ing characters: and as the term wild belongs
equally to the wood and water kinds, as well
as to the true, it may be proper to diſtinguiſh
that hereafter, by the name HEATH VALERIAN.
CH A P. II.
Deſcription of the Plant, and of the freſh Root.
THE root is compoſed of many fibres
joined to a ſmall oblong head. The
ſtalk is erect, round, jointed, hollow, and to-
ward the bottom, reddiſh. The leaves ſtand in
pairs; and each is compoſed of many leſſer
leaves joined to a long rib, with an odd one at
the end. The flowers are ſmall and reddiſh;
and they ſtand in large tufts at the tops of the
ſtalks and branches. Each flower is formed of
one piece; and is tubular at the baſe, ſwelled
out on one ſide, and cut into five parts at the
rim. It has no cup: and each is followed by
a ſingle ſeed.
This is the form of the plant in whatever
foil it grows. The diſtinctions of the heath
from the water Valerian are theſe.
The HEATH VALERIAN is about two feet
and a half high. The ſtalk is of a duſky green,
and lightly hairy: the leaves are ſmaller than
in the water kind; and the little leaves of
which each of the larger is compoſed, are nar-
rower, and of a deeper colour: theſe are alſo
covered with fine white hairs. The flowers
are of a brighter red; and the cluſters of them
are ſmaller. The feed alſo is leſs.
The

( 6 )
.
WATER VALERIAN is four feet high. The
ſtalk is of a pale green, and thick; the leaves
are large, ſmooth, and broad, and they are alſo
of a freſh pale green. The flowers are paler ;
but in larger cluſters than the other; and the
ſeed is larger and ſofter.
This is the diſtinction of the plants at full
growth : but as the beſt time of gathering the
roots is before the ſtalk riſes, 'tis neceſſary they
ſhould be known alſo in that ſtate. The
place might indeed be a fufficient direction :
for no one would go to gather the root by a ri-
ver, when he has been told the Water Vale-
rian is of leſs value. But that ſuch as have
not opportunities of taking it upon themſelves,
may have ſome mark by which to know when
it is genuine, it may be needful to add, that
many
ſuch leaves as we have deſcribed on the
ſtalk, riſe alſo immediately from the root;
and the ſame diſtinction is preſerved in them:
theſe in the Heath Valerian, are compoſed of
narrower parts, and are hairy and duſky in
colour; in the Water Valerian, they are bright,
fimoother, and pale.
The great diſtinction is in the root itſelf.
This in the true heath kind, is of a fine brown
colour, tending to olive; and conſiſts of long
flender fibres, which have a multitude of ſmal-
ler threads growing from their fides in the man-
ner of ſhort curled hairs.
The root of the Wood Valerian is of a taw-
ny, or deep browniſh yellow.
The

P1.7
WATER VALERIAN
H

SO

( 7 )
a
The root of the Water Valerian, is of a pale
brown tending to yellow; and is compoſed of
thicker and more naked fibres. There is lately
introduced alſo a kind which has grown in
abſolute water: This is white, and is worſt
of all. The root of the Heath Valerian is firm
and tough; the root of the water kind is ten-
der and more eaſily broken : the Heath Va-
lerian root has a freſh aromatick ſcent, with a
very little fætidneſs. The water kind has no-
thing of this freſhneſs in the ſcent, and little of
the aromatick; but is in a manner heavy and
fætid only.
By theſe characters the plants will be known
in whatever period of growth; and even the
roots when brought without any part of the
herb. But ſince many have not opportunities
of ſeeing theſe when freſh, it will be proper to
obſerve alſo their condition dry, at the drug-
giſts.
Theſe are ſupplied with it by perſons who
want knowledge, and often honeſty: there is
therefore no dependance, except upon the ab-
ſolute aſpect of the root. The diſtinction in
this article is the more neceſſary; becauſe the
plant muſt be wild to have its virtue. Gar-
den culture debaſes it almoſt as much as a wa-
tery nouriſhment abroad. This I have found
by trial. Where a drug muſt be received from
ſuch hands, as uſually deal in Valerian, it is
neceſſary to be very well acquainted with its
genuine characters.
СНА Р.

( 8 )
CHA P. III.
The Hiſtory of the Valerian of the Druggiſts.
a
ΤΗ
HE Valerian ſold at our druggiſts is col-
lected by certain itinerant medicine-mon-
gers, whom, from the principal article in
which they deal, we call VIPER-CATCHERS:
theſe people who travel over the kingdom in
ſearch of thoſe animals, bring in alſo Valerian
roots, and ſome other articles.
As they find a hundred plants of the Water
Valerian for one of the Heath kind, that is,
the root they uſually collect: if the other falls
in their way, and will come eaſily out of the
ground, as it will in the looſer heath ſoils after
rains, they mix it with the reſt: if not, they
let it alone entirely. So that we ſometimes
meet with great quantities of the water kind
only; and ſometimes a mixture of one and
the other. The firſt ſhould be refuſed en-
tirely; and the latter carefully picked. Be-
fides this mixture, they put in alſo the roots
of a ſmall Meadow Valerian, a diſtinct ſpecies :
and other kinds leſs pardonably. I have rai-
ſed a plant of the ſmooth water crowfoot,
which is poiſonous, from a root fold among
Wild Valerian.
Even this is not all the diſadvantage. The
time when roots have their full virtue is before
they ſhoot up a ſtalk; but the plant is moſt ob-
vious when in flower: the root alſo at that time
a
is

( 9 )
is looſer in the ground, and the ſtalk is a han-
dle by which it is eaſily drawn up. For theſe
reaſons a great part of what is brought into the
ſhops has been taken out of the earth when
the plant was in flower ; and is therefore, even
though the kind were right, unfit for uſe in
medicine. Of all theſe imperfections the drug-
gift ſhould beware; for his care will make the
gatherers honeſt: if he be negligent, the apo-
thecary ſhould refuſe to take ſuch as is bad into
his Thop: and in caſe of both theſe being care-
leſs, the patient may examine the root himſelf,
according to the following characters.
CHA P. IV.
Deſcription of the falſe Valerian Root when dry.
TH
HE WATER VALERIAN ROOT dried is
brittle and of a pale brown, approaching
to yellow : it is compoſed of many rounded
fibres, which are often entirely naked or at the
beſt hung with a very few threads; and at the
head there are commonly ſeen the remains of a
ſtalk, with a hollow equal to that of a gooſe
quill. Among the true fibres of the root, are
alſo ſeveral long and thick ſtrings of a paler co-
lour, and jointed as it were; with a kind of
dent at each joint. Theſe are the creeping ap-
pendages of the root, by which it runs under
the ſurface: they have nearly the nature of ſtalks,
and are as deſtitute of virtue as ſtraws. When
the real fibres of this root are taſted, they are a
little acrid, but faint, and a fætid ſcent is per-
C
ceived
a

( 10 )
ceived in them while chewing. If they are
broken, they appear hollow in the midſt, or at
the beſt dark and blackiſh. In the firſt caſe, the
pith of the root is conſumed, which is the com-
mon ſtate of it after the plant has flower'd; the
other is the natural condition of it in watery
places; and is a certain ſign of its wanting
ſtrength. The ſubſtance which ſurrounds the
pith in the Valerian root, contains its greateſt
virtue. This is fpungy and woody in the Water
Valerian, but in the heath kind, it is firm, and
contains a ſubſtance approaching to the nature
of a gum-reſin. This a watery nouriſhment
cannot fupply; and therefore that part in the
Water Valerian is perishable, whereas in the
other it is permanent.
a
CHAP. V.
Deſcription of the true Heath Valerian Root
when dry.
TH
HE TRUE HEATH VALERIAN ROOT is
compoſed of long and ſlender fibres: it is
tough; and of a duſky brown, approaching to olive
colour ; and the fibres are hung about with
numerous threads: when broken, they have no
hollow in the centre, nor any blackiſh circle
there, but appear full and bright; and if the
root has been gathered in perfection, there is
a circle of a greenish or pale hue ſurrounding
the pith.
The taſte differs from the other much more
than the colour, or form : it is acrid, ſpicy, and
pleaſant;

(11)
pleaſant; and after it has been chewed ſome
time, there is perceived a ſlight bitterneſs, and
ſome aftringency. It may be always known by
this from the falſe; which is vapid and ſweetiſh,
ſcarce at all aromatick, and deſtitute entirely of
this latent bitterneſs and roughneſs.
Its virtues depend wholly on the principles
which give this taſte and flavour; and they can-
not be found in the other diſagreeable and of-
fenfive kind.
This is the root, and this only, which ſhould
be gathered for medicinal uſe, and it is indeed
a very valuable medicine.
A phyſician of di-
ſtinguiſhed abilities, one of the late cenſors of
the college *, has told me, that in a ſearch,
they found this true Valerian Root at one, and
only one ſhop in London ; the powder was of
an olive brown, and the ſcent aromatick and
agreeable: at other places, the powder was of
a yellowiſh brown, and the ſcent offenſive.
This true kind is liable like the falſe, to have
runners mixed among the real fibres; and
they ſhould be ſeparated: it may be eaſily ſeen
whether the plant has been in ſtalk at the time
of its being gathered, and if it have, the root
ſhould be rejected. "Tis only in perfection
when preparing to ſhoot a ſtem: and whoever
will gather it at that time, will find this king-
dom affords drugs equal to thoſe of the warmeſt
climates.
a
Dr. CONYERS.
C 2
СНАР,

( 12 )
C H A P. VI.
Farther Trials of the two Roots.
j
VA Alerian root is ſometimes altered a little
in colour, from the foulneſs left about it
at the time of gathering; or from ill manage-
ment in drying. In this caſe, let fome of it
be put into cold water, and ſtand twenty-four
hours. This never fails to diſtinguiſh the wa-
ter from the heath kind; for the Water Vale-
rian root becomes yellower, as it ſwells; and
the other gets more of the olive brown than it
had while dry.
The ſcent of the two roots alſo diſtinguiſhes
them; if they have not lain together. The true
is fragrant, though with a mixture of the fætid
kind; the other abſolutely ſtinks, and has ſcarce
any thing of the aromatick ſcent.
Cats, who have much more diſtinguiſhing
organs of ſmell than we, perceive this. There
are certain ſcents which affect them, and they
are principally of the fætid kind; though this
is not without exception: they will buſy them-
ſelves extremely about the Water Valerian root;
but ſhew little regard to the other.
a
CHA P. VII.
Of gathering the Root.
TH
"HESE are the characters by which the true
Heath Valerian is to be known from the
falſe ; which is uſually ſold under its name.
When

( 13 )
When a parcel of the right kind is purchaſed,
before it is uſed, it ſhould be picked and clean-
ed: thoſe roots which ſhew they have borne
a ſtalk, ſhould be rejected; and the runners,
or jointed and light ſtrings muſt be ſeparated
from the true fibres. Thus the druggiſt may
be ſure he ſells what the doctor preſcribes : but
there ſtill may remain a doubt about its value.
The high flavour of the Valerian root is loft in
keeping; and the virtue in great part goes
with it.
This root ſhould never be uſed when it has
been long kept; and the ſeller's word is not to
be taken on this account, for he is always in-
tereſted to call the old new.
Under theſe diſadvantages, to which the pur-
chaſe of Valerian is ſubjected on all hands, no-
thing can be ſo rational as the patient's collect-
ing it for himſelf. Where that cannot be done,
let him be guided by the ſame rules in the
purchaſe, that he would obſerve in collecting
it: let him buy it freſh ; at a right ſeaſon
of the year; and in the perfect ſtate and con-
dition: this he will know by the following
rules.
Roots poſſeſs their virtues in greateſt per-
fection when they are ready for ſhooting up a
ſtalk, but have not yet made the effort: 'till
that time they are imperfect, becauſe they have
not obtained their full maturity; and after that
they are exhauſted. The ultimate end of na-
ture in the growth of plants, is the formation
of the ſeeds : when theſe are perfected the
root is no longer uſeful, it becomes a ſtick:
and

( 14 )
root.
and while the ſtalk is in its growth, the rich
juices are ſent up ſo faſt to it, that the root is
in great part drained of them. Therefore, nei-
ther when the plant is in flower, nor when it is
about to flower, ſhould its root be gathered for
medicinal purpoſes. While it has only the ra-
dical leaves it may: but the beſt time of all is
juft when the bud of the ſtalk is forming.
The growth of the Valerian is this. In
July it flowers ; in Auguſt the ſeeds are ripe ;
and the winds carrying them off, they ſtrike
The rains of autumn favour this; and
a ſmall cluſter of leaves is formed: theſe, with
the root, continue growing till the fevereſt
froſts; or in mild winters through the whole
ſeaſon.
About the time when the feeds fall, thoſe
runners before-mentioned, riſing from the head
of the old roots, ſpread themſelves juſt under the
ſurface, or ſometimes upon it; and, taking root,
they alſo form new plants. Each ſhoots up a
cluſter of leaves, and ſends fibres into the earth,
juſt as the ſeedlings.
Among the roots we find at druggiſts, fome
are large and light; others ſmall and more
firm : the large ones are uſually ſuch as have
been pulled up by the ſtalk, at, or after the time
of fiowering, which are therefore in a great
degree exhauſted: the ſmall ones are the roots
of ſeedling plants, and of thoſe propagated by
the runners, which have been taken up late in
autumn, or early in ſpring: and theſe having
been in their earlieſt ſtate of growth, have not
:
their

( 15 )
a
their full virtue. This is the condition of the
ſingle roots brought to fale ; and in the cluſters
of them, there is the greateſt uncertainty: the
larger part being exhauſted, and often rotten;
and the reſt imperfect.
The true ſeaſon for gathering Valerian is the
middle of May, and the fineſt roots are thoſe
of ſeedling plants. Theſe are known by
ſtanding ſingle ; thoſe from runners being al-
ways near old roots. Theſe feedlings have
had the autumn and winter for taking their
firſt growth. The warmth and moiſture of
ſpring have now given them their full bigneſs,
and the rudiment is new formed, which is to
Thoot
up
into a ſtalk. The root is full of its
richeſt juice : and that is the proper ſeaſon for
gathering it.
In the fyftem of vegetation, this is an uni-
verſal truth: the root which has produced
a ſtalk, and ripened flowers and ſeeds becomes
an abſolute chip; and has neither medicinal
qualities, nor any other value. The purpoſe of
nature is anſwered, and the whole plant uſually
dies. The MusA will live a century if it does
not flower, but when it has once bloom'd no
art can preſerve it from immediate decay. The
MOUNTAIN PALM, will live thirty or forty
years barren; but if it flowers it inſtantly pe-
riſhes; and the TREE LAVATERA, which bears
our winters even for many years, till it blows,
dies as ſoon as that is over. Even annuals, by
preventing their flowering, may be kept alive
thro' winter.
In bulbous plants the root decays viſibly;
and

( 16 )
and in the fibrous it has the ſame fate, though
lefs obſerved. The carrot which has run to feed,
is an inſipid ſtick: and in the potatoe, though
freſh roots are produced abundantly, that which
was put into the ground in ſpring, and which
has borne the ſummer ftalk is uſeleſs.
The gardener thinks he takes up in July the
fame bulb of the tulip, which he planted the laſt
November; but hedeceives himſelf. That which
he fets in autumn furniſhes the flower in the
fucceeding ſummer; and, as it feeds the ſtalk,
decays. Another bulb is formed during this
time, which contains the rudiment of the next
year's flower: this encreaſes as the other wi-
thers; and having attained its full growth by the
middle of ſummer, the gardener takes it up,
and ſuppoſes it to be the ſame he planted.
What we call a bulbous root is nothing more
that a covering of the rudiment of the plant ;
like the bud upon a tree : and the coats of the
bulb, like the films which compoſe that bud,
when they have performed their office decay,
and are renewed no more. The rudiment of
the Valerian plant is a bud in the centre of the
head of the root; of the ſame kind with the
other two: and the root itſelf has the like fate.
It naturally periſhes in the winter, when the
plant has perfected its feeds; and others are
formed round about it, which ſupply its place.
All this is tranſacted in the bofom of the
earth, and at a time when roots are never taken
up by the judicious: therefore it is little feen:
but it is the abſolute courſe of nature. The
off-ſets of bulbs, and the encreaſed parts of
fibrous
a

( 17 )
fibrous roots, which the gardener ſeparates in
parting them at autumn, are all formed in this
manner; containing the rudiments of other
plants, and ſupplying the place of the old ones
which decayed in flowering.
It is neceſſary ſo much ſhould be known, to
direct us in the proper gathering of roots; and
thus the philoſophy of plants may ſerve the
poſes of medicine.
pur-
CHA P. VIII.
The manner of curing Valerian Root.
VALERIAN is in its greateſt perfecction
when freſh dried: but the curing of me-
dicinal roots, is a ſubject we do not rightly ma-
nage in England. The Ginſeng of the Eaſt-In-
dies, and the Salep of the Turks, are inſtances
that others have an art unknown to us.
We cannot preſerve any root as they do Gin-
ſeng; and with regard to Salep, our own Or-
chis would perfectly anſwer its purpoſe, if we
had the ſame method of curing it. This is not
ſo difficult as may be thought; but it would be
wandering from the preſent purpoſe, to ſpeak
farther of the matter here.
When the Valerian roots are gathered, let
the dirt be fhook from them, but not by
ſtriking them againſt hard ſubſtances. It will
ſeparate with little violence; and they muſt
neither be bruiſed nor waſhed. Let the leaves
and runners be cut off clean without wounding
the head of the root, and then lay the whole
D
parcel

( 18 )
parcel in a heap in a dry place, where the fun
does not come: cover them with a blanket, and
leave them thus three days : then ſtring them
up on long threads at ten inches diſtance root
from root, and hang theſe threads acroſs an airy
room.
When they are perfectly dry, put them up
in boxes, preffing them cloſe together, and co-
ver them carefully.
If any think laying the freſh root in heaps,
before it is hung up to dry, a ſtrange practice,
they may be reminded of the cuſtom in regard
to fruits, whether intended for keeping, or for
wine. Thoſe who underſtand their manage-
ment, always give them a ſweating of this kind,
for heightening their flavour, and improving
their natural qualities.
The gardener lays his pears in a heap, and
covers them with flannel, before he ſpreads
them to keep for winter: and in the cyder coun-
tries, apples are treated in the ſame manner be-
fore preſſing; and in the vineyards, grapes.
A flight fermentation is thus brought on by
the warmth of the ſubſtances; and their flavour
and virtues are exalted and improved. I don't
know that the ſame practice has been applied
to roots before, but the effect is ſimilar; and
thoſe who have not been accuſtomed to Valerian
otherwiſe than as ſeen in the ſhops, would ſcarce
ſuppoſe this the ſame medicine: it is highly
aromatick, quick, and pungent on the tongue,
and the peculiar flavour in it, which we call
fætid, ſcarce deſerves ſo coarſe a name.
The
3

( 19 )
а
ز
The root of Heath Valerian in this ſtate pof-
ſeffes all the virtues which have been aſcribed to
it by authors. It is a ſovereign medicine in ner-
vous diſorders; and in particular exceeds all the
remedies commonly uſed againſt that worſt of
head-achs, which ariſes from attention.
It has alone cured epilepſies: and of late
has been uſed very ſucceſsfully in hyſteric com-
plaints; and in that terrible diſorder the con-
vulſive aſthma: It allevates pain in the man-
ner of the more gentle opiates; and is found
highly effectual in fits proceeding from the ob-
ſtructions of the menſes; not only taking off the
fymptoms but removing the cauſe. Perhaps
this root may be found, on experience, one of
the beſt of our emmenagogues; and I would
requeſt thoſe who have more opportunities, to
try it farther in that intention.
A very large doſe of the freſh root will
purge;
but this is its leaſt uſeful quality. I have or-
dered it lately in that troubleſome diſeaſe the
nightmare; and in two inſtances, wherein I
have had fair opportunities to try its virtue, have
found it a perfect cure.
A very good method of taking it is freſh dri-
ed in the way of tea, a dram of the root for a
doſe, with half a pint of boiling water; ſweeten-
ed, and ſoftened with a little milk: but of all
the preparations, a tincture fully ſaturated with
the ingredient is the beſt. The root poſſeſſes its
full virtue only when it is freſh dried, after it has
been taken up at the ſeaſon juft named. At that
time of the year it is excellent in powder, or in
the
а
D 2

( 20 )
the tea-infuſion; but no method of keeping
will preſerve it long in the fame perfect ftate.
therefore the beſt recourſe is to this form : and
proof fpirit is capable of receiving fo ſtrong a
tincture from it, that a ſmall doſe will have
great virtue. I have this year obtained from
different parts of England a large quantity of
the true root, and have found that an excellent
tincture may be made from it in the following
proportions.
Cut a pound and four ounces of the root juſt
dried into ſmall pieces, and bruiſe it in a mor-
tar; put this into a gallon of proof-fpirit ; let
it ſtand four days, ſhaking it every day; then
ftrain off the liquor, preſſing it hard. Put to
this à pound of the root, bruiſed as before, and
let it ſtand a week : after that ſtrain and filter
ter the tincture. A table ſpoonfull is a doſe. It
ſhould be taken in a ſmall glaſs of water, or of
mountain wine once or twice a day.
I have made a quantity in this manner, which
is at the ſervice of my friends, or of the faculty;
the reſt of the root I have given to Mr. Tom-
fon, a very worthy young man, who propoſes
to make it for the publick.
One farther improvement it is proper I name
here, though fufficient experience has not yet
confirmed me in its full uſe: this is an ACID
TINCTURE OF VALERIAN. I have made this by
adding two ounces of oil of vitriol to a pint of
the preceding tincture, and have found it excel-
lent: the acid exalts the flavour of the Valerian,
and this tincture ſtrengthens the ſtomach, cre-
ates an appetite and always prevents that difor-
der

( 21 )
der of the head, to which nervous perſons are
ſubject after eating. The doſe of the Valerian
being in this form limited by the acid, the plain
tincture may be alſo taken at other times,
The roots fold by druggiſts differ extremely
in colour, taſte, ſmell, and qualities; as they
have been gathered in more or leſs favourable
ſituations and foils: the difference between the
falſe and true, is that the one has grown in bar-
ren and dry ground, and the other in wet and
muddy; and in conſequence there are as many
degrees of excellence or defect in the drug, as
there are of foils between thoſe two.
There are ſeveral parts of England, where the
true kind is to be had in plenty. On the great
heath called Hind-Head, in the road to Portſ-
mouth, I have ſeen a vaſt quantity of it; and
Ray names it upon ſufficient authority near Aſh-
wood, by the Buxton-wells, in Derbyſhire ; at
Parnham, between Brindale and Orford, in
Suffolk, and on Ilford Common.
The chief places whence the roots are brought
to London for ſale are four ; the neighbourhood
of Cambridge, the foreſt of Dean in Glouceſter-
ſhire, Oxford, and the near part of Kent. The
Cambridge and Kentiſh Valerian generally have
a mixture of good and bad ; for they pull up
fome from the heaths and high grounds, which
they mix among the water kind: what I have
ſeen from about Oxford, has more of the Water
Valerian ; and from the foreſt of Dean comes
the pureſt and beſt our druggiſts have: but this,
like the reſt, though the kind be better, is com-
monly taken up at a wrong ſeaſon.
'Tis
3
3

( 22 )
a
'Tis ſaid none is imported: but I have found
among parcels of Valerian ſome roots of a kind
differing in colour from almoſt any of the Eng-
liſh forts; and alſo the tuberous white roots of
the nardus montana radice olivari, which is a
Valerian, not native of this kingdom; therefore
thoſe parcels of the drug probably came from
France, and could not but be worſe for the
keeping. It does not appear that any part of the
world produces this drug in greater perfection
than our own country, provided the ſoil and
ſituation be proper.
That ſoil, and ſituation, can make ſo confider-
able a difference in the virtues of plants, ap-
pears from various inſtances in nature; and as
plainly from the effects of culture. Lavender
and otheraromatick herbs, are ſweeter, and fuller
of virtue in thoſe kingdoms where they grow
wild, than with us who raiſe them only in gar-
dens; and many which we have wild in com-
mon with the ſouth of France, are yet greatly
fuperior in their qualities there.
Culture renders the common garden plants
larger and more ſucculent; but it takes off their
taſte and qualities : and the difference between
the Heath and Water Valerian is very like that
of a wild and garden herb; the ſituation in the
muddy bank of a ditch, giving abundant moi-
fture, and nouriſhment.
We ſee the ſame plant is more richly fia-
voured when it grows in a dry foil, and
more infipid when in wet; and we find the
higheſt aromaticks are natives of dry and
a
warm

( 23 )
warm land: indeed to know the effect of
abundant moiſture and rich earth, we need look
no farther than the common lettuce. In the wild
ſtate, wherein it lives on dry, parched, and barren
ground, its juice is acrid and bitter, and its vir-
tue highly narcotick; fo much as to have ob-
tained it the name of poiſonous : in gardens
where it has rich mould, and abundant moi-
fture, it becomes mild, pleaſant, and innocent.
Nor does the form differ leſs : when wild the
ſtalk is woody, and the leaves are prickly:
when cultivated the ſtem is tender, and the
leaves are unarmed. So the auſtere crab of the
common, becomes the mellow apple of the
orchard; and the bitter almond ſweet.
The caſe is the fame in all theſe inſtances;
the virtues or the qualites of the herb, root,
or fruit, depend upon the natural and moderate
quantity of juices elaborated, undiſturbed in
its veſſels; and well concocted by the ſun. This
gives the taſte, ſcent, flavour, and medicinal
qualities. When nature throws its ſeeds in a
rich wet foil, or human induſtry removes them
to the garden, the character of the plant is al-
tered, the effective particles are debaſed or
drowned in the additional quantity of juice,
and the whole becomes in the end taſteleſs,
ſcentleſs, inefficacious, and inſipid.
On theſe principles the culture of the Va-
lerian in gardens muſt never be attempted ; and
in its wild ſtate ſo much depends upon the na-
ture of the ſoil and ſeaſon of the year, that
it is happy the characters of excellence and
imperfection
a

( 24 )
imperfe&ion are marked ſo ſtrongly on the root
itſelf.
Thoſe who neglect to obſerve them will be
diſappointed in their expectations from this
drug, though in reality it poffeffes all the virtue
that has been aſcribed to it; and deſerves more
commendation than has been given it even
by its warmeſt advocates.
THE END
CXXX
Directions for placing the PLATES,
PLATE I. to face page 4.
Plate II. to face page 6.
co



****
F*XXXXXXXXX
AN
A C C O U N T
OF THE
MUSHROOM-STONE.
Illuſtrated with FIGURES.
[ Price One Shilling and Sixpence. ]
shes
"SR k k k k k k k k
2 dl k dh se sk sl sed &

TV ODDA
TOTUM
о
DS

AN
A C C O U N T
OF A
S Τ Ο Ν
T
NE,
IN THE
Poſſeſſion of the Right HONOURABLE
the EARL of STAFFORD;
Which on being WATERED
PRODUCES EXCELLENT MUSHROOMS,
With the HISTORY of the
IOLITHOS, OR VIOLET-STONE
OF THE GERMANS.
By JOHN HILL, M. D.
Illuſtrated with FIGURES.
Yaa
Soft
Колоралери
204
1 Ο Ν D ο Ν:
Printed for R. BALDWIN in Paternoſter-row. .
M DCC LVIII,
1758


**************** 84 * *
st sk sk tsk tsk tsk tsk tske sesk sesk ske sk Irsk
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE
EARL OF STAFFORD.
MY LORD,
*F there be any addition to
I the knowledge of nature in
the obſervations which the
following ſheets contain, 'tis fit that I
acknowledge the world owes them
to your Lordſhip, who gave me
opportunities of making the experi-
ments.
DUTY

(vi)
Duty, as well as inclination, enjoin
me therefore to lay the treatiſe at your
Lordſhip's feet: nor can I ſuppoſe, you
will conſider, as unworthy of your no-
tice, the leaſt enquiries into the bo-
fom of nature; ſince they are to
the glory of that Almighty power
whom your Lordſhip’s heart adores
with more than common reve-
rence; and whoſe greatneſs, will be
always the more diſtinctly ſeen the
better his works are underſtood.
It were eaſy to exhauft the
IT
whole ſtore of dedicatory eloquence
in an addreſs to your Lordſhip :
for, to name the STAFFORDS, and
the HOWARDS, your great Ance-
ſtors,

(vii)
ſtors, were to ſum up all that is moſt
ancient and moſt noble ; but nei-
ther does your Lordſhip's ear deſire
this tribute; nor have I the heart,
or the deſigns, of thoſe who offer
it. If I ſhould praiſe your Lord-
ſhip, it would be on another ſcore;
your virtue, and your piety: and
I muſt be permitted to ſay, that if
I may judge the thoughts of others by
my own, your Lordſhip is of all men
the moſt to be envied ; paſſing the
autumn of Life in honourable eaſe,
removed from all connections with
a bad world, but that of doing good
to the wretched; and enjoying that
ſuperior happineſs, which riſes from
true goodneſs.
MAY

(viii)
May it continue long!
I HAVE the honour to be with the
greateſt deference and reſpect,
My LORD,
Your LORD SHIP's moſt
obedient, and moſt
humble Servant,
PALL-MALL,
Auguſt 18, 1758.
J. HILL
AN

***********225 25 25 25
༼༼ 000000
三​米
​ST
se or de HR ks s SR St Desk SK se da ste se se SR
AN
А с соu NT
OF THE
MUSHROOM-ST O N E.
INTRODUCTION.
XHXHE Italian naturaliſts mention a
T
Yester
ſtone which on being wetted pro-
duces muſhrooms; and from their
writings an account of it has paſſed into
thoſe of other nations, under the names of
LARIS FUNGIFER, and the MUSHROOM-
STONE. Some who have been in Italy
have alſo ſeen it; and we have been
ſurpriſed with their accounts of its effects:
but as theſe have not been regarded with
fufficient accuracy, nor the ſubſtance itſelf
perfectly underſtood, it may not be diſagreea-
ble to the curious to receive a plain account of
B
the

( 2 )
the ſtone and its productions from one of
them now in England, which fully anſwers
what has been related of thoſe in Italy.
THE COUNTESS OF STAFFORD, in whoſe
poſſeſſion it is at this time, has given me op-
portunities of examining the courſe of its
productions; and valuing a diſcovery of the
truth, more than even the curioſity itſelf, has
permitted me to make experiments upon it
with all poſſible freedom.
With theſe advantages I have endea-
voured to find the true nature of the ſub-
ſtance; and hitherto without injuring the ſpe-
cimen itſelf: the vegetable principle is ſo
ſtrong in the ſtone that it has perfectly reco-
vered the rough treatment which has been
neceſſarily given it in the courſe of this en-
quiry; and probably will continue to yield
its valuable growth many years.
es
СНАР,

( 3 )
CH A P. I.
OF THE NATURE OF THE STONE.
ALT
#HE Italians deſcribe the Lapis fun-
gifer as a coarſe and looſe kind of
Se ſtone : they ſay, that it retains
always the quality of affording muſhrooms
when watered : and that the ſubſtance now
in poffeffion of lady STAFFORD is the ſame
they mean, is evident from its appearance,
conſtruction, and qualities. It is a hard heavy
maſs, of an irregular ſhape, and granulated
furface, like ſhagreen leather ; in colour
brown with a tinge of reddiſh, and very diffi-
cultly broken. This is its appearance in the
maſs when dry. The piece of it now in.
England is fourteen inches in diameter:
when broken it appears rough and gritty,
full of ſmall glittering particles, fome
black, others white, like grains of diffe-
rent coloured ſand; and among them are
ſome flakey ſubſtances of the nature of
the foliated talks. Theſe are connected toge-
ther by a browniſh matter, with ſtreaks of
white ; and the whole maſs has, when freſh
broken,
Ba

(4)
broken, fomewhat of the appearance of thoſe
coarſe granites, which we call, from the
place where they are found, Guernſey peb-
bles, and with which the ſtreets of London
are paved. If a knife be haſtily drawn over
this it yields fparks of fire; and tho' it has
not nearly the hardneſs of the ſtones whoſe
conſtruction it reſembles, yet the ſmalleſt
particle of it is not eaſily broken.
a
a
On putting a piece of it into hot water
innumerable air-bubbles riſe from all parts of
it, like ſmall round bladders. After ſome
time the ſubſtance ſwells a little, but looſes
nothing of its form; and if there have
been upon the piece thus uſed, any part of
the original ſurface of the maſs, 'tis eaſy to
perceive by the naked eye, that it is covered
with a kind of ſkin, or coat. The maſs, when
kept under ground, and often watered, be-
comes ſofter, but it never moulders away;
nor do the pieces thus foaked in hot water
ever crumble or fall aſunder, like earthy ſub-
ſtances.
The ſtrongeſt acids, even aqua fortis,
makes not the leaſt impreſſion upon it. It
lies

( 5 )
lies in them unaltered as in water, only ſend-
ing up a few air-bubbles.
A STRONG fire conſumes a part of the maſs;
and leaves the reſt in form of a looſe various
coloured ſand.
a
These are the experiments by which ſtones
are uſually tried; and by theſe the preſent ſub-
ſtance appears to be a congeries of cryſtalline
and talky particles. But as part of the maſs
burns away, that is plainly not of a ſtony na-
ture; and its ſmell while burning ſhews that it
is not bituminous : we are therefore to look
for it in the vegetable kingdom; and from this
part alone we ſhall find the muſhrooms pro-
duced from the ſtone ariſe.
On examining a piece of it freſh broken
with an attentive eye, the ſurface reſembles
in miniature that of a piece of the PUDDEN-
STONE when roughly broken. There ſtand
out in many parts ſmall tubercles or grains
of the gritty matter, ſome white, ſome black,
fome cryſtalline, and others talky; and be-
tween and among theſe are little hollows, out
which other pieces have fallen.
WHAT

( 6 )
a
What the unaffiſted eye thus diſcovers,
a microſcope perfectly explains to us. On
looking over the various parts of ſuch a piece
of ſtone, we find the original ſurface covered
with a thin coat. Pebbles have their cruſt;
and many kinds of ſtone their coats, of a dif-
ferent colour from the reſt of the ſubſtance;
but theſe are flinty. On the other hand, the
kind of ſtony maſſes which this reſembles have
naturally no coat or cruſt; and this covering
which for that reaſon only we might reaſon-
ably judge to be adventitious, is not of a ſtony
but a fungous nature. It coats the ſurface
with a thin expanded tough ſubſtance, and
infinuates itſelf from the outſide inward in
thinner plates into all the natural crevices of
the ſtone. As this is compoſed of a mere
looſe grit, there are interſtices and cavities
in every part : the ſeveral particles of the
Stone are ſo looſely thrown together that there
is room for this ſubſtance to infinuate itſelf
any where between them; and even to ſur-
round them. This it does in courſe of time,
and of conſequence the inner part of the ſtone
appears a kind of fungous bed, incloſing a mul-
titude of gritty particles; or as if by any art a
a
piece

(7)
piece of ſpunge could have all its cavities
filled perfectly with ſtone.
This holds the naturally looſe particles of
the ſtone firmly together; and lines the
beds or hollows out of which others have
fallen.
This conſtruction appears ſtill more plainly
when we examine a piece of the maſs which
has lain ſome time in water; for the fungous
matter ſwelling with the moiſture fhews itſelf
thus, yet more diſtinctly. The coat or outer
covering of the ſtone appears whitiſh on its
inſide; immediately under this we ſee an-
other expanſion of greater thickneſs, which has
a perfect fungous aſpect; and from this we
may trace the ſame ſubſtance running in ir-
regular plates in every crevice, and furround-
ing every particle of the ſtone.
This tough and fungous ſubſtance is the
perennial root of a peculiar ſpecies of muſh-
room, different from the common kind, and
greatly ſuperior to it. To this ſubſtance is
owing the continual production of the muſh-
rooms; and as all plants have their proper
place of growth, this ſtone is that of the pe-
culiar

( 8 )
culiar muſhroom, which we ſee riſe from the
root thus ſpread thro'it. See PLATE I.
С НА Р. ІІ.
OF THE NATURE OF THE MUSHROOM
PRODUCED FROM THIS STONE.
w
హంంంంవత
a
96%% E know by the preceding experi-
ments diſtinctly and certainly that
the Lapis Fungifer is a ſtone, com-
poſed of cryſtalline and talky particles, and
penetrated every way by the roots of a pecu-
liar muſhroom, which are permanent and full
of vegetable life, which require this nidus or
place of growth, as others do the ſtumps of
trees; and which are ready to ſhoot up per-
fect muſhrooms by the aſſiſtance of moi-
ſture.
The name of a muſhroom with a peren-
nial root may appear ſtrange to ſome; but it
is not peculiar to this ſpecies : ſeveral of the
Agarics which grow on trees riſe from laſting
roots, which penetrate the rotten parts of the
wood, and in the ſame manner remain many
years.

PL1
Page 8.
THE MUSHROOM STONE
13
A PIECE Ofit MAGNIFYD.
3
THE VIOLET STONE.
H

OF
ܛܽܓܢ

(9)
years. Theſe reſt unſeen in the body of the
tree during the ſummer ; but the rains of
autumn which eaſily get at the part where
they lie, ſet the muſhrooms to growing.
An inſtance of this ſhewed itſelf very conſpi-
cuouſly many years in the wood near THORN-
Don in Effex: where every October there
appeared upon the trunk of an old afh, in a
part where a large limb had been long be-
fore torn off by the wind, a cluſter of that
kind of fungus which Dillenius calls the
Liver-agaric, Agaricus poroſus rubens carnofus
hepatis facie. This I ſeveral years fuccef-
ſively obſerved, in company with that great
ornament of Botany, the late excellent lord
PETRE: we found that theſe muſhrooms con-
ſtantly aroſe from the ſame ſpot; that when
they were decayed there remained always a
fungous ſubſtance in the place, like the coat
of this ſtone, from whence we could trace
numerous broad and flat fibres inſinuating
themſelves into all thoſe interſtices of the wood
which the decay had made ; and alſo between
the wood and the bark. Theſe roots were
in all reſpects analogous to that fungous fub-
{tance which runs over the ſurface, and into
с
the

( 10 )
the cavities of this ſtone; and like them
wanted only moiſture to ſend up perfect
muſhrooms of their kind. Dr. Vütner has
obſerved the ſame annual production of aga-
rics from certain ſpots of trees in the Harts
foreſt in Germany; and Buxbaum in Ruſſia:
In London we had for many years an annual
fungus of vaſt fize, and of a very peculiar
form, from the block of a ſmith's anvil in
the Hay-market; and Tournefort has given
a like inſtance of one on a beam in one of the
churches in France, which has, I believe, ever
ſince appeared at the ſame ſeaſon.
If the ſpots whereon theſe ſeveral muſh-
rooms grew had been examined with ſuf-
ficient attention, I perſwade myſelf, the
ſame kind of perennial roots would have
been found as I have ſeen in the aſh at
Thorndon, and in the muſhroom-ſtone:
thoſe two are perfectly ſimilar in their na-
ture; and differ only in form; as their pro-
ductions do in management.
The root of the aſh agaric was flat and
ſtringy; that of the rock-muſhroom is irre-
gular

( 11 )
gular and ſpongy. The aſh produces its
agarics in autumn when water naturally
falls upon the place, or when the damp tem-
perature of the air ſupplies its office. The
rock yields its muſhrooms at any time, be-
cauſe it is watered at pleaſure.
The ſtones which afford theſe muſhrooms
are found in the mountainous parts of Italy
toward Piedmont ; and alſo in Sicily and
ſome other places. They lie in irregular
maſſes from one to twenty, thirty, or forty
pounds in weight upon the ſurface, or juſt
covered : many of them only in part buried
in the ground; and ſome of them, though
not all, are covered with this fungous coat.
Those which lie wholly on the ſurface are
often irregularly overſpread with it; but they
rarely produce any perfect muſhrooms. Theſe
riſe principally from ſuch as are an inch or
two within the mould, and they appear to
grow out of the earth till they are traced
to the root. Thoſe ſtones which are in part
buryed and part expoſed to the air, often
crumble away unleſs they are covered with
this

( 12 )
this fungous ſubſtance; and in that caſe the
muſhrooms uſually riſe from the part juſt
within the ſurface.
If thofe which lie altogether expoſed, and
are covered with the imperfect fungous mat-
ter, be by any accident, or purpoſely, covered
with mould, there will riſe from them perfect
muſhrooms; and any of the ſtones thus covered
being put into mould, will produce them.
**
***
CH A P. III.
OF THE GROWTH OF MUSHROOMS IN
GENERAL.
T
**** HE courſe of nature in the produc-
tion of muſhrooms has not been yet
W fufficiently explained. Linnæus com-
plains with reaſon, that the want of a due pre-
ciſion in their arrangement is the great op-
probrium of the ſcience : perhaps what is
ſeen in this and the other parallel inſtances,
may lead to the better underſtanding
them.
THAT

( 13 )
That muſhrooms produce ſeeds is now
well known ; and they are in this peculiar
ſpecies very conſpicuous. From thoſe ſeeds
other muſhrooms are produced, as in all plants;
and there is the ſame diſtinction among muſh-
rooms as other vegetables, fome being an-
nual, and others having perennial roots. As
among plants, ſome will live only on a dry,
and others on a moiſt ſoil ; ſome on clay,
ſome in water, and others among gravel ;
ſo among the muſhrooms each has its
appro-
priated bed, out of which it will not grow;
and even upon which it will not arrive at
perfection without a concurrence of other
circumſtances.
The annual muſhrooms riſe, and when
they have perfected their feeds periſh like an-
nual plants: no part of them remaining but
the ſeed which retains the principle of life to
the next ſeaſon. The perennial rooted muih-
rooms riſe in the ſame manner from ſeeds, and
perfect feeds again: the muſhroom then fades,
but the root remains and grows, as is the
cafe in the perennial plants. The firſt is ob-
vious in many inſtances ; and may be ſeen
diſtinctly in every paſture ground in autumn.
BUT

( 14 )
But tho' there are certain muſhrooms of
the earth which have alſo laſting roots; this is
principally the caſe with thoſe which grow
on ſtones and trees: and the reaſon is plain,
It is but by mere chance a ſeed of a proper
kind of muſhroom can be brought into fuch
a place; and nature therefore gives the plant
a laſting principle of life that it may continue
there.
ز
ز
The ſeeds of muſhrooms are very ſmall
and light; they are produced in vaſt num-
bers; and they become the ſport of winds :
they float in the air like thoſe atoms we ſee
in a ray of light received into a dark room ;
and millions periſh for one which falls upon
a proper place for growth.
A COMMON agaric which ſtands to ripe-
neſs upon the trunk of an old tree produces
many millions of theſe minute ſeeds; which
being diſengaged from its ſpongy ſubſtance
when ripe, ride thus in the air. The great-
eſt part are loſt, and often all of them: for
none will ſtrike root unleſs it falls upon a
part of a tree where there is rottenneſs and
moiſture.
WHEN

( 15 )
When a ſeed is received into ſuch a place
it ſhoots principally outward; and a muſhroom
like the other is produced. This may be
eaſily pulled off from the tree; and there is
ſo little baſis or root to be ſeen, that it appears
wonderful how the great bulk was fed. This
is the caſe in the agarics of the firſt year ; but
it is otherwiſe afterwards: they adhere more
firmly: they are difficult to be removed;
and there appears abundant root for their
nouriſhment.
In the generality of plants raiſed from feed,
the part above ground, and the root increaſe
proportionably to one another; and it is ne-
ceſſary they ſhould ſince the root is to ſupply
the nouriſhment: but it is otherwiſe in the
muſhroom kind. They are nouriſhed in a
great meaſure from the air, therefore leſs root
is neceſſary; and this part which is ſmall at
firſt, increaſes afterwards, becauſe its great
uſe is to continue the principle of growth for
ſucceeding productions.
ز
When a new-fown agaric has ſtood to
ripen, and has decayed undiſturbed, the root
immediately increaſes. As ſoon as the ſeeds

( 16 )
are ripe no more nouriſhment being required
to the plant, all is employed there: the fibres
enlarge and thicken ; they ſpread out in
breadth, and inſinuate themſelves into every
crevice of the wood; and wherever they
become expoſed to the air, they enlarge into
a tough, firm, and irregular maſs which bears
the injuries of the weather, and at a proper
ſeaſon ſhoots up new agarics. Such a fun-
gous lump is always produced where the firſt
agaric was rooted, and wherever elſe the ex-
panſions of the root are naked; and in all
theſe places agarics riſe the ſucceeding ſeaſons;
as alſo wherever the coat of bark is cracked
or diſeaſed. This I have obſerved diſtinctly
in two or three ſpecies of the true agarics ;
and probably it will be found the fame in all
that kind.
If the variety of nature in the production
of other muſhrooms be regarded, there will
be leſs cauſe to wonder at theſe. Ray names
a peculiar kind which never grows but on a
dead horſe's hoof: the French Memoirs de-
fcribe another ſpecies growing on the ban-
dages of wounds and ulcers in their hofpi-
tals: and the Ephemerides of Germany, a
minute

( 17 )
minute kind riſing from naked flint: nor is
the growth of milletoe, a perfect plant, from
the branch of a living tree, leſs wonderful.
The rudiments of the common muſhroom
are almoſt univerſal on the dung of horſes,
tho' they will not riſe to maturity unleſs it
be covered with earth, and kept moiſt and
warm. The old Greeks ſay, they may be
obtained the ſame way from the bark of the
poplar ; and mouldineſs, which conſiſts of
muſhrooms, is in a manner univerſal. The
difference in fize is of little confideration;
for the diminitive muſhroom that grows on
dead leaves is as perfect as the cart-load aga-
ric of Hungary.
All theſe ſpecies owe their origin to ſeeds
of muſhrooms of like kind, which are utterly
loft when they fall upon ſubſtances improper
to nouriſh them; and when they are received
on ſuch bodies as can ſupport them, under
certain circumſtances, they yet remain in
form of roots, or imperfect rudiments till
thoſe accidents occur which favour their full
growth
D
IT

( 18 )
It is no otherwiſe in this muſhroom of the
rock, ſtrange as its origin appears : ſeeds of
the IMPERIAL MUSHROOM are received upon
it, and like thoſe of the common kind on
the dung of horſes they form a root; from
which, in the ſame manner, when it is treated
properly, perfect muſhrooms will riſe. What
has given moſt the air of fingularity to this
is, that it was not obſerved muſhrooms might
have perennial roots: but that is far from being
peculiar to any one kind. Many of the muſh-
rooms which we ſee in woods, and which
ſeem to riſe from the ground, grow really
out of pieces of decayed wood under the ſur-
face; and theſe having perennial roots ſpread
into the crevices of that dead wood, the ſame
logs in thoſe circumſtances always produce
them. While this dead wood lies on the
ground, the ſeeds adhere to it, and ſpread
their roots in it; but they do not grow per-
fect from it till it is buried.
Wood thus filled with the perennial roots
of muſhrooms, may, eaſily, produce them,
in the very fame manner as the rock. A gen-
tleman now in England aſſures me, he faw
in the poſſeſſion of Mr. Trent at Rome, a
piece

( 19 )
a
piece of a root of a tree of the ſize of an ordi-
nary billet, a preſent from the princeſs of Bor-
gheſe, which being keptin a cellar and water'd,
produced every two or three days a crop of
excellent muſhrooms. This is a parallel caſe:
the kind of muſhroom indeed was not the
fame, nor was the ſubſtance the ſame wherein
the roots were lodged; but the proceſs of
nature in their growth is perfectly ſimilar.
CHAP. IV.
OF THE GROWTH OF THE ROCK MUSHROOM.
Q0N this principle, and in this courſe,
the growth of the rock muſhroom
30 may eaſily be underſtood. As the pro-
per ſeat of the agaric is in the cracks of rotting
wood, that of the rock muſhroom is the cleft
or crevice of a ſtone. One of theſe ripens upon
the Piedmont hills, or elſewhere, where the
proper ſtones are found : its innumerable
ſeeds are ſcattered in the air, and ſome of
them lodge in the cracks of this ſtone,
D 2
FROM

(20)
FROM ſuch feed a muſhroom like the
firſt is produced; which ſtanding its due time
upon n the ſtone decays. Then the root be-
gins to grow; it ſpreads over the ſurface; it
runs into the cracks; and in fine, it covers
the whole externally, and ſurrounds all the
particles within, with a tough ſpungy ſub-
ſtance. This is the proper baſe of future
muſhrooms of the ſame kind; and is in all
reſpects like the roots of perennial plants
whoſe fuperficial parts, ftalk, leaves, and the
reft decay, but whoſe roots remain ready
under proper circumſtances to produce thoſe
plants again.
The ſtones may be carried into other
parts of the world; and with tolerable
care the root will remain unhurt, for it is very
well defended : in this condition that was
brought into England which is now in poffef--
fion of the noble Lady, who gave me oppor-
portunity for theſe experiments; and the
root being in a ſtate of growth, only a pro-
per management is required to produce the
muſhrooms.
СНАР,

( 21 )
变​要求​实现​突突​突突​突​。
"X FELAKEELNE
要买
​CH A P. V.
OF THE MANAGEMENT OF THE MUSH-
ROOM-STONE.
a
а
HE muſhroom-ſtone when thus re-
ceived is to be brought to produce
them by a regular covering, and moi-
ſture. A box or garden-pot muſt be provided
of a bigneſs to hold it conveniently, and a hole
being made in the bottom and covered with
an oyſterſhell, about three inches thickneſs of
dry loamy earth is to be put in; upon this the
muſhroom-ſtone muſt be laid, and ſome good
mould taken from under the turff in a paſture
muſt be poured upon it to cover it an inch
and half deep: it is then to be watered ac-
cording to its bigneſs: from half a pint to a
quart of water is to be allowed every other
evening; and this muſt be given from a fine
garden-pot. From the end of Auguſt to the
beginning of November it ſhould be kept in
the garden in a warm ſheltered place; and
alſo from the beginning of March to the mid-
dle of May: and theſe are the ſeaſons in
which
ز
a

( 22 )
which it will bear the moſt, and fineſt muſh-
rooms: during the intermediate months it
may be kept in a cellar; and it will there alſo
yield occaſionally a great many. The quan-
tity of water muſt be increaſed when it
pro-
duces a large number, and diminiſhed when
there are fewer. In cold nights a covering of
dry ſtraw ſhould be laid over it; but no
dung ſhould ever be brought near it. It is
the peculiar quality of theſe muſhrooms not
to require it; and they are therefore of
a purer as well as a higher flavour than
others.
If the muſhrooms be covered with a hand-
glafs while they are taking their growth, they
will be the larger; but the open air gives them
a better flavour. Their great increaſe while
under cover of a glaſs is owing to the con-
ftant moiſture about them; for I have
obſerved they are in a great degree nou-
riſhed by the air: but the abundant wet
debaſes their value.
The rock-muſhroom is a peculiar kind;
and it is conſtantly this ſpecies and no other
which the Italian ſtone produces. It is not
covered with gills on the under part, but
pierced

( 23 )
pierced with innumerable little holes of a
ſomewhat angulated form; nor does the head
riſe to a point in the center, but ſinks inward.
The common muſhroom reſembles a hat;
but this a faucer or drinking-glaſs; and its
ſtalk is not exactly in the middle, but nearer
to one ſide. The upper part is of a mixed yel-
low and olive colour; and the ſurface is
broke in a wild, but beautiful manner, into a
reſemblance of ſcales and feathers. The
under part is white; and in the pores lie the
ſeeds. The ſubſtance of the muſhroom
within is firm and white as ſnow; and it is
of a delicate and high flavour, and is per-
fectly wholeſome.
All muſhrooms which are porous under-
neath belong to the BOLETUS kind, of which
there are ſeveral ſpecies beſide this that are
eſculent: tho' many of the ſame genus are
nauſeous; and ſome poiſonous. The rock-
muſhroom here deſcribed, differs from all the
kinds hitherto treated of by botanical writ-
ers; and may be called, Boletus ftipitatus ra-
dice perenni, pileo depreſſo ſcabro, poris fub-
angulatis. The old inhabitants of Italy were
well acquainted with its excellence : we
learn

( 24 )
learn from Suetonius that Nero called it CI-
BUS DEORUM, the food of the gods; and the
name IMPERIAL MUSHROOM, in the mo-
dern Italy, properly belongs to this rock-
kind.
و
BBQBDOBOOOOOOOOOOO
CH A P. VI.
OF THE INCREASE OF THE ROCK-
MUSHROOM.
92
APAPUA
YO
T
25
HE firſt notice I received of the
maſs, to which we owe the preſent
BE obſervations, was on the nineteenth
of June laft: Lady STAFFORD did me the
honour of acquainting me with it that even-
ing. The rock had been ſome few weeks
in her ladyſhip's poffeffion; and there was
then upon it the ſhoot of the firſt muſh-
room it produced while in that place: this
was a thick oblong lump. From that
day it continued increaſing till the twenty-
fourth, at which time I took it up; and it
then meaſured fix inches and a quarter on
the head, and weighed one pound and two
ounces.

Page 24
H.
4.2.
THE ROCK MUSHROOM.

UNIE
OF
Wicat

( 25 )
ounces. Lady STAFFORD who had herſelf
obſerved it during the whole growth, with
an attention and accuracy that would have
done honour to a philoſopher, found by mea-
ſuring it exactly every four and twenty hours,
that it increaſed pretty regularly at the rate of
an inch a day in the length, and nearly the
fame in the breadth of the head.
a
Its form when perfect I have endeavour-
ed to repreſent in the annexed figure; with its
ſimple and peculiar fructification. See PL.II.
A great deal of attention was uſed in gather-
ing it to fee in what manner it roſe from the
rock. The mould was removed, and its inſer-
tion made bare: it roſe from the plain ſurface
of the ſtone by a thick and irregular baſe,
which lengthened into a ſtalk, and thencepro-
ceeded to the expanſion of the head. No
roots were produced from this ſtalk in that
part under the mould: ſo that it drew no
nouriſhment from thence; nor were there
any roots iſſuing from it where it adhered to
the maſs. The muſhroom conſiſted of an ex-
panſion of that fungous ſubſtance which co-
vered the ſtone: nothing more. Nor had it
E
any

( 26 )
any peculiar fibres: that whole fungous
matter ſerved it asa root. The mould which is
ſpread over the rock is uſeful in our manage-
ment, and in the ſtate of nature equally, to
detain the moiſture which is given it: and
for no other purpoſe.
It has been long ſince diſcovered, that the
gillsin common muſhrooms contain the ſeeds;
and in the ſame manner they are lodged in the
pores of this kind. The parts of fructifica-
tion are like the feed itſelf, extremely minute,
but they are like thoſe of other plants in the
effential articles; and the microſcope readily
gives us a fight of them.
The eſſential parts of impregnation in ve-
getables are two: the Antheræ, containing a
fine duſt, in every particle of which is lodged
a minute plant * ; and the rudiment of the
ſeed which is to receive it. In the more
ſpecious plants theſe parts are ſurrounded
with gaudy leaves, and there is a ſtyle which
conveys the minute rudiment to the feed. In
many of the ſmaller plants theſe appendages
* See Outlines of vegetable generation, Octavo.
and

( 27 )
and ornaments are wanting ; but thoſe effen-
tial parts are deficient in none. The anthe-
ræ are called the male organs; the rudiments
of ſeeds the female: in the generality of
plants both are contained in the ſame flower,
as in the tulip; but in ſome the male organs
grow on one part of the plant and the female
on another : this is the caſe in the melon,
where the organs of each ſex, tho' ſeparate,
are ſurrounded by a flower; and it is the
fame in this muſhroom, where they are
naked.
a
The male part conſiſts of two filaments
riſing from an oval baſe, and each terminat-
ed by its anthera: the female part is a
naked rudiment of a ſeed crowned only with
an indented rim, which ſerves to receive
and detain a grain of the powder from the
anthera, till it burſts with the wet, and de-
livers the minute plant encloſed within it to
the feed; where it is lodged ſafely till it can
grow.
Both theſe parts are contained within the
pores of the under ſurface of this muſhroom;
many
E 2

(( 28 )
many of them in every pore: and they are
beſt feen in thin ſections of that part before
the double microſcope. The male parts fall
off as foon as the antheræ have burſt, but the
female remain, adhering to the inner fuface
of the pores, till the muſhroom begins to dry:
they then fall off and are ſcattered by the
winds, and all periſh except ſuch as fall upon
theſe ſtones, whoſe crevices afford them a
proper reception.
CHAP. VII.
OF THE VIOLET-STONE.
205
I
este sa
3 T is uſual, indeed, that in purſuing
1 one ſubject of this kind nature
opens to us another: and it may not
be foreign to the preſent ſubject to enter upon
an article of natural hiſtory, as ſingular,
and hitherto as little underſtood as this,
which the fame enquiries may perhaps ex-
plain ; and which may be found very inti-
mately connected with it.
THE

( 29 )
The muſhroom-ſtone has been underſtood
as a body of the mineral kind, and what is
called the violet-ſtone, as another. This laſt is
not ſo named from its producing violets, but
from its having a ſmell reſembling thoſe
flowers. The German naturaliſts have called
it LAPIS VIOLACEUS, and LAPIS ODORE VI-
OLÆ.
ANY ſcent in a mineral not bituminous
would be ſtrange; and in an abſolute ſtone
moſt of all. The account always appear-
ed ſtrange to me; and I employed the
correſpondence with which I was favoured
in the HARTZ, to enquire into the fact, and
tranſmit me ſpecimens. I received two: one
a ſparry, and the other a harder ſtone, whoſe
baſis was cryſtal, both covered on a partof their
ſurface with a coatof a fungous ſubſtance, very
like that of the rock-muſhroom; See Pl. I.fig.
3. and in colour reddiſh. They had at this time
no ſmell; but the account which came with
them aſſerted, that they were fragrant when
firſt taken from the ground. 'Twas evident
the ſtones could not have afforded this ſcent;
for they were of utterly different kinds : and
there remained only this coat of vegetable
matter

( 30 )
а.
matter to yield it. Micheli and Guettard
Linnæus and Van Rayen, all deſcribe a Ger-
man moſs, a Byſſus as they name it, which
grows on ſtones that have been thrown fome
years out of the mines : Micheli ſays this has
the violet odour ; and Linnæus gives the Jo-
lithus of Schwenkfield as one of its fyno-
nyma.
a
WHAT theſe authors name a Byſſus, and
conſider as a plant of a different claſs, I
have great reaſon to believe is the peren-
nial root of the rock-muſhroom. If they
had met with opportunities of examining
the muſhroom-ſtone, ſuch as I have been fa-
voured with, I think they would have found
what they call a moſs in this inſtance, to be
exactly of the ſame ſubſtance and contexture
with the external covering of that maſs, which
I have ventured to call the perennial muſh-
room root : nor is the muſhroom-ſtone, de-
ſtitute of fragrance, tho' it is perceived only
occaſionally, as it is in what is called the violet-
ſtone. I have obſerved that at certain times,
and particularly in the evenings of hot days,
when the ſtone at lord STAFFORD's has been
newly watered, that as I ſtooped down to the
box

( 31 )
a
box I perceived a fragrant and aromatic
ſmell. Not imagining the ſtone poffefſed this
quality, I attributed it to a multitude of pinks
which were then in full flower along the
fides of an adjoining walk; but a piece of
the maſs which I cut off, and brought home
with me had the ſame ſcent ſtrongly for two
days. 'Twas evident therefore the fragrance
was in the thing itſelf. Not in the ſtone, for
that's incapable of it, but in thegrowing root of
the muſhroom. The ſmell is a mixture of the
violet and the clove-ſpice; and it went off
gradually in the piece I had, as it dried.
This agrees with the accounts I received
from Germany of what is there called the
Violet-ftone: for 'tis faid, that does not af-
ford the ſcent at all times; nor all the pieces
of it; that it has none when in the mine,
and occaſionally diſcloſes it on lying in the
air. This is abundant proof that the quality
is not in the ſtone itſelf. The feeds of this
muſhroom fall on it, and perhaps where the
circumſtances do not favour for the growth of
the perfect fungus, the vegetative power of
the

( 32 )
the feed ſpends itſelf wholly in forming this
cruſt. Perhaps alſo compleat muſhrooms of
this ſpecies may appear on ſome, tho' the too
light attention of the obſervers does not ſhew
them, they owe their riſe to that ſubſtance
which they have ſuppoſed to be itſelf a per-
fect plant.
Thus the Violet-ſtoneand Muſhroom-ſtone
will probably be found, on more examination,
to be no other than two ſtates of the ſame ſub-
ſtance; and what has appeared ſo wonderful
in their hiſtory will be found owing not to
the ſtones themſelves, but to a vegetable fub-
ſtance which grows upon them,
The courſe of nature in their production
appears to be this.
THE feeds of the muſhroom here deſcribed
falling on ſtones which are kept moiſt, by
being in part immerſed in the ground, ſtrike
root; and according to the various, more or leſs
favourable circumſtances of the ſtone, they riſe
to greater or leſs perfection. Where all per-
fectly favours, they produce at once a mulh-
room like that from whence they ſprung,
which

( 33 )
which after having ripened its feeds alſo,
ſpreads at the root, while the elevated part de-
cays ; and filling the porous ſubſtance of the
ſtone, as well as covering its ſurface, lies for
years in this ſecure place, as the roots of
common agaric in a rotten tree; and is ready
upon any occaſion that favours, to ſend up
new muſhrooms.
When the ſame feed falls on a ſtone leſs
favourable to its growth, it is not able to pro-
duce a perfect muſhroom, but riſes only
into a coat or cruſt of a fungous fubſtance :
and when there wants on the ſtone whereon
it has fallen both moiſture and poroſity, it
forms even that coat imperfectly: inſtead of
a tough fungous ſubſtance it appears duſty or
filamentous; and though it preferves a vege-
tative life in this ſtate, it never can produce
muſhrooms.
In all theſe conditions it is the ſame ſub-
ſtance, and the production of the fame feed;
F
and

( 34 )
and in all of them it has occaſionally ſome-
thing of the violet ſcent,
In the firſt named ſtate it is called the
Muſhroom-rock, and in the laſt the Violet-
ſtone; and there is no wonder that its aſpect
in that condition has been miſtaken by bo-
taniſts; or the plant itſelf overlooked wholly
by thoſe who ſtudyed minerals: it was
too inconſiderable for the notice of the one,
and too imperfect for the information of
the other.
aulo
cats
СНАР,

( 35 )
CH A P. VIII.
OF THE VARIOUS APPEARANCES OF THE
MUSHROOM-KIND.
* HAT Fungus's of many kinds as
T 3
well as this are capable of retaining
张亚​距​张
​their vegetative power without their
perfect form, is evident from numerous in-
ſtances. I obſerved the fungus Spongioſus
maximus aqueus of Dillenius four years in
that ſhapeleſs condition, upon an old aſh-tree
near Denham; but the fifth ſeaſon, on the
tree's decaying farther, and more moiſture
lodging in the part, it ſentoutthree perfect aga-
rics, of that ſpecies called by Caſpar Bauhine,
fungus anguloſus pediculo exiguo : and in this
preſent year the fungus tenuis niger ramofus of
Ray, at my own lodgings, ſhot up four fine
plants of the fungus ramofis niger compreffus
apicibus albidis of the fame author.
F 2
WE

( 36 )
We have inſtances of a like nature in other
ſpecies, upon the credit of Buxbaum, which
are beyond diſpute; and farther exact obfer-
vation, I doubt not, will give more of a like
kind in England
a
a
In all theſe caſes we find, there may
be circumſtances which will occaſion the
feed of a muſhroom to ſhoot, and will keep
it alive in the condition of an expanded root
for
many years, without ſhewing its diſtinct
and proper form: and alſo that freſh occaſions
will at any time bring up the perfect plants.
Often ſhelter is wanting: often moiſture :
and ſometimes air: of this there appeared
in the year 1756, a particular inſtance at
WESTBOURN-GREEN.
An agaric of the common great yellow
kind grew annually from a wounded part of
the ſtem of an old Elm: a fungous ſhapeleſs
maſs covered the place the reſt of the year,
and

( 37 )
and flat roots ran from it between the bark
and the wood downward. Theſe had not ſhot
out new agarics, becauſe they were covered ;
but ſome boy in play having driven a large
nail a little depth into the tree where theſe
roots ran, the ſucceeding autumn the ru-
diment of a new agaric appeared ſurrounding
the nail ; the root having puſhed out into
growth all about it,
As I lived near the place I had opportunity
to obſerve the progreſs of this fingular vege-
tation ; a perfect agaric was by degrees formed
round about the nail ; and it
grew to maturity
with the iron in its center
This may explain the appearance of com-
mon muſhrooms with a ſtraw, or blade of graſs
growing thro' them. It is not that the graſs
has grown quick; and pierced them: the
ſtraw has no growth: it is that the muſh-
room has ariſen from ſome part of a perma-
nent root, which having been lodged near the
ſtraw

( 38 )
E
OTIS S nova
ſtraw, or the blade of graſs has grown round
it, and encloſed it.
BorovOO SHOW od
ALL theſe inſtances tend to the ſame proof:
and even the ſubſtance which gardiners call
Gorlice
the ſpawn of muſhrooms, and which they
gather in paſtures where they have grown,
is no other than an unſhaped and perma-
nent part like thoſe we have named; which
is ready under the favouring circumſtances
of heat and moiſture, to ſhoot up perfect
muſhrooms.
-029
I
THE END.
-
Gvaa



A
N E W Μ Ε Τ Η Ο D
Of PROPAGATING
FRU I T-TREES,
Α Ν D.
FLOWERING SHRU BS,
From their Parts :
WHEREBY
The common KINDS may be raiſed more
expeditiouſly; and ſeveral curious ExoTICS
increaſed, which will not take Root from
CUTTINGS or LAYERS.
Confirmed by ſucceſsful and repeated Experience.
By THOMAS BARNES,
Gardener to WILLIAM THOMSON, Efq;
at Elſbam in Lincolnſhire.
From Experiments propoſed by Dr. HILL.
The THIRD EDITION.
LONDON:
Printed for R. BALDWIN, in Pater nofter-row ; and
J. JACKSON, in St. James's Street,
M.DCC.LXII.

lo
Sono brzo
ptgohib H
Traduzi
2 ។
sto se
Isulu bado
to go on?
od on buco
aero
WS
STEET
201
ellist git
gril
vlago Sol
to

А
N E W M E T H O D
Of PROPAGATING
TREES and SHRUBS.
C H A P. I.
The Occaſion and Purpoſe of this Work.
#HE difficulty of propagating fome
T
Ihrubs in the common way, and the
ſmall increaſe that can be made from
others by the uſual methods, brought
it into my thoughts to try whether ſome expe-
ditious manner could not be invented of raiſing
a large number.
EVERY NURSERYMAN will be glad to know
this : for if he can, when he has got a new
ſhrub, raiſe twenty or thirty inſtead of three
or four, it will be a great increaſe for his pro-
fit: and in the ſame way, a GENTLEMAN,
when ſuch a thing falls into his hands, will be
better pleaſed to ſupply all his friends at once,
than a few at a time, and not oblige all under
the compaſs of many years. I thought the
thing might be done, and that made me re-
folve not to be diſheartened at one or two
trials : and my honoured maſter has encou-
raged me, by giving me opportunities to make
A 2
the
a

( 4 )
the experiments, and looking upon their pro-
greſs himſelf. bruoz
Grabnuotayswls and
It is about a year ſince I began the trials;
and between that time and this, I have made
them various ways upon four-and-twenty forts
of trees and ſhrubs of the fruit and flowering
kinds; not truſting to one or two famples of
each, but uſing ſeveral dozens of every kind,
and trying them in all the different conditions
of culture, according to their nature, from the
ſtove to the open air. By theſe means the ex-
periments amounted to many
hundreds;
and
as I kept a conſtant journal of them all, which
I have here faithfully tranſmitted to the pub-
lick ; every one will ſee how far each me-
thod ſucceeded, and which deſerves the pre-
ference.
og cell av
Foto dibud gril
and donde
CHA P. II. To ti bri
OF PROPAGATION by the Bud.
10 sted
TH
HE propagation of trees by layers and
cuttings, thews, that if a piece of any
kind be planted in the ground in ſuch man-
ner that it takes root below, the upper part
will ſoon furniſh all the reſt, and become a
perfect tree. If roots can be thus obtained,
the reſt follows in the courſe of nature. But
this is not univerſal ; for ſome trees will not
take root in either of theſe ways: and if they
would, ſtill the number is but ſmall that can
be obtained by them, becauſe it is but a certain
part of the branches a tree can ſpare for that
purpoſe.
ON
Bud. bumpul
SUOTES
3
a

( 5 )
a
On examining the cuttings which have
failed, I have always found that the miſchance
happened by the rotting of that part of the
cutting which was expected to ſend forth the
roots; for the danger is where it had been
freſh cut, and has no bark to cover it. I
thought it natural, that if a method were uſed
to keep that part from decay, all thoſe cuttings
would grow, which we uſually fee fail : and
communicating my thoughts to a gentleman
of knowledge *, he not only confirmed my
opinion by his own, but gave me a receipt for
preſerving the ends of cuttings from rotting :
and deſired me to try it afterwards upon ſmaller
pieces than ſuch as are commonly uſed; and
upon ſingle buds.
Every leaf upon the branch of a tree or
ſhrub, has uſually a young bud in its boſom 5
and it is certain each of theſe buds has in it
the rudiment of a tree of the ſame kind :
therefore it appeared reaſonable to think that
every branch might afford as many new plants
as there were leaves upon it; provided it were
cut into ſo many pieces, and this fame dref-
fing could prevent the raw ends of each piece
from decaying. The advantage of ſuch a
practice appeared very plainly, for it muſt
give many plants for one, and the thing ſeem-
ed ſo agreeable to reaſon, that I reſolved to
try it.
MANY mixtures of refinous ſubſtances have
been propoſed on this head, under the names
# Dr. Hill
of

(6)
of cements and vegetable mummies, by Agri-
cola and others; but the very beſt, upon care.
ful and repeated experience, I have found to
be that juſt named, which is made thus :
Melt together, in a large earthen pipkin,
two pound and an half of common pitch, and
half a pound of turpentine. When they are
melted, put in three quarters of an ounce of
powder of aloes; ſtir them all together; and
then ſet the matter on fire ; when it has
flamed a moment, cover it up cloſe, and it
will go out: then melt it well, and fire it
again in the ſame manner. This muſt be
done three times: it muſt be in the open air,
for it would fire a houſe; and there muſt be
a cover for the pipkin ready. After it has
burnt the laſt time, melt it again, and put in
three ounces of yellow wax fhred very thin,
and fix drams of maſtich in powder. Let it
all melt together till it is perfectly well mixed;
then ſtrain it through a coarſe cloth into a pan,
and ſet it by to cool.
When this is to be uſed, a piece of it
muſt be broke off, and ſet over a very gen-
tle fire in a ſmall pipkin : it muſt ſtand till
it is juſt foft enough to ſpread upon the
part of the cutting where it is wanted, but
it muſt not be very hot. It is the quality
of this dreſſing to keep out wet entirely.
The part which is covered with it, will ne-
ver decay while there is any principle of life
in the reſt; and this being ſecured, nature
will do the buſineſs of growing. This
I have found true in practice: and by re-
peated trials, in more kinds than one, I have
found

Page.6.
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be
od 20
Propagation by the Buland by the Branch

29
Evo
sobo
barpowrs you
borvos bas
od as basale
Maison
Sair
be and lots om
Saldocolectores de
al se lo dit di gainst
bocah 10 got
is do ano e most bobulox.
sods so won an ad borans
lola reve bola on bud
og om
- bude
og TV
puis oor of nails
bodo
1900
OF
CHI
1939
La buong bloom
od od 100 308
ats 192bread and
st svo a cabo
a solo i deb shade
oregain is gabona la svoltad
blusa

(()
77)
found that I could raiſe from any piece of a
branch, as many good plants as there were
leaves upon it.
NOVEMBER the third, 1757, I took off
four dozen leaves of the common LAUREL,
with the Bud entire in the boſom of each
leaf; and every thing being in readineſs, I
cut the wounded part ſmooth, whiped it dry,
and covered it with ſome of the dreſſing.
I planted them in four pretty large pots, one
dozen in each. The mould in theſe pots
was made extremely fine; and I planted
them by making very ſmall openings, and
letting in the baſe of the leaf juſt ſo far that
the top of the bud might not be wholly
excluded from the benefit of the air. I ga-
thered the fine mould carefully about each
bud, and preſſed it every way cloſe, to keep
the bud in its upright poſition, and prevent
the air from coming too eaſily to the part
whence the growth of fibres was to be ex-
pected. This was the management of the
buds in all the pots.
One pot I ſet up to the rim in garden
mould under a warm ſouth wall; another
I ſet in the ſame manner, but without that
ſhelter ; the third I ſet in the green-houſe,
and the fourth in the ftove. The intent of
theſe different places, was to ſee what effect
ſuch variation would take in the growth;
the ſtove naturally inclining all things to ſhoot
ſooner.
I gave every one of them the ſame care
and attendance that it was natural to allow
to young plants; and no other. They had
waterings

( 8 )
a
ز
waterings in the common courſe, and thofe
in the open air were ſheltered by peas-ftraw
in the ſeverity of the winter.
I examined them JANUARY the fourth.
Every bud in the pot which was in the ſtove
had formed a good plant two inches high,
and with ſufficient roots.
Those in the open air were alive, but had
made ſmall progreſs. I examined theſe laſt
again APRIL the 12th, and almoſt all of them
had made ſhoots, and had got good root, and
were in a fair growing condition.
THESE plants require only the common care
afterwards. They are to be removed into
a nurſery-bed at ſeven inches high; and they
will thus make, by a quick growth, ſo many
handſome ſhrubs.
THUS I found that as many plants might
be obtained as there were buds upon the
branch. The experiment may be uſed to
hardy trees of more value ; and the benefit of
it is very plain.
MARCH 5, 1757, I took off a branch of
a white poplar, on which were a great many
buds. I cut this into as many pieces as there
were buds upon it, cutting the branch through
at equal diſtances between every two buds.
I thus had a great many pieces of it, each
about an inch in length, with the two ends
raw, and with a bud nearly in the middle
between them. I ſmoothed the wounded
ends of theſe, and having ſome of the dreſſing
ready melted, I wiped them very dry, and
ſpread it all over the cut part of each extre-
mity, leaving the reſt of the piece, which was
covered
a

(9)
covered with the bark, naked. I planted
them in pots in the ſame manner as the buds
of laurel.
APRIL 29, I examined theſe, and found
they had produced ſo many excellent and
healthy plants; every plant was upright, ſtrait,
well-looking, and three or four inches high ;
and they had all very good roots.
It is eaſy to ſee how this experiment may
be extended ; and perhaps there are very
few hardy ſhrubs which will not ſucceed hap-
pily by it. The laws of vegetation are the
ſame, whether the plant come from an Eng-
liſh ditch fide, or the edge of an American
lake; from the hills of one of theſe coun-
tries, or the mountains of the other : nor
is there any reaſon to ſuppoſe thoſe from
warmer climates will refuſe this courſe of
propagation in the ſtoves wherein we keep
them.
If this prove true upon experience, which
I have happily found in ſome late inſtances,
here is a method of increaſe which may be
extended to all trees and ſhrubs that have
buds, and we ſhall be able to raiſe much
greater numbers, and with much more eaſe,
than by any way that is yet known. It became
me to try the experiment itſelf upon the eaſieſt
ſubjects, and ſuch as were moſt likely to fhew
its ſucceſs: for the enquiry was, whether this
could be brought about in nature. Others
may aſſiſt in the extending the experiments to
more kinds: 'tis certain the principles of ve-
getation allow of it,
B.
AT

( 10 IO
)
! AT THE SAME TIME that I prepared there
buds of the poplar juſt named, with the
parts of the entire branch, I took off fome
others with only ſo much of the wood as
was ſufficient to keep them entire ; not cut-
ting the branch through, but only taking
the buds from the fide of it with a ſmall
piece of the bark and wood. I ſmoothed
theſe parts, wiped them dry, covered them
with the dreffing, and planted them in pots,
in the ſame manner, and with the ſame care
as the others. They had all the ſame advan-
tages, but the ſucceſs was not equal. Some
of them made very good plants, but others
failed: nor were the plants produced from
thoſe which ſucceeded, nearly ſo fine as thoſe
from the others.
FROM THIS OBSERVATION, I lay it down
as a rule, ſo far as theſe experiments can ſup-
port a general maxim, that when buds are to
be planted, it is beſt to allow them the whole
thickneſs of the branch, however ſmall the
piece may be.
I LAID theſe pieces horizontally, with the
bud, uppermoſt; and the ſucceſs was as I
have mentioned : it may be worth trying
what would be the effect with the pieces
planted perpendicular or obliquely, to give
the bud a different direction from what it had
in my pieces.
MARCH 10, 1757, I took off fome heal-
thy branches of the COMMON WILLOW and
the WHITE WILLOW : part of theſe I cut into
lengths as the poplar, with one bud in the
center of each piece; and from the other part
و
a
I cut

( 1 )
I cut out the buds with a piece of the wood
to each. I wiped the wounded parts of both
dry, covered them with the dreſſing, and
planted them in the ſame manner as the pop-
iar in all reſpects.
DOW
The intent of this was to confirm the for-
mer experiment by other inſtances; and as
the whole point was to try whether this power
was or was not in nature, I again choie ſub-
jects the moſt likely to ſucceed.
This experiment anſwered exactly as the
former : all the buds which had pieces of
the entire branches grew; and moſt of the
others. It appeared plainly, that this power
of producing trees and ſhrubs from ſhort
pieces of their branches, in each of which
there is a bud, is not repugnant to nature,
nor limited to one kind : and this ſhewed
farther, that the obſervation made in the
other inſtance reſpecting the manner of the
operation is true, namely, that the way to
ſucceed beft, is not to cut the buds out of
the branches, but to cut thro' the branches,
and allow each an entire piece, tho'it be ever
fo ſhort.
These were the experiments I made in the
laſt Autumn, and the preſent Spring, in the
propagation of trees by buds; and I invite and
requeſt all Gardeners to join with me in pro-
ſecuting theſe trials upon ſcarce and otherwiſe
valuable kinds.
ALTHO' this practice be new, it is founded
in the moſt plain manner on reaſon and the
nature of things. There is no more wonder
that a bud ſhould produce an entire plant,
than
B 2

( 12 )
a
3
than that a ſeed ſhould grow. Each of theſe
contains the rudiment of an entire plant of
its kind, and there requires only a proper care
in the culture to ſet it to growing. We do
not wonder that the little lumps upon the
ſtalks of the Dentaria, the White Saxifrage,
or the Scarlet Lilly, ſhould grow when put
into the ground, and there is the ſame reaſon
that theſe buds ſhould, for they contain, in the
very
ſame manner, the originals of future per-
fect plants.
We do not enough regard the uniformity
of nature ; and it is thence our wonder riſes.
But there is yet another inſtance in the courſe
of the Gardener's profeffion, which agrees
more exactly with the growth of the bud,
than either the ſeed or the little lump upon
the ſtalk; this is the common claſs of bul-
bous roots. In all theſe what is called the
bulb, is not a root, but a rudiment of a plant
ſurrounded with a great many coats, or 2.
thick ſubſtance, by way of defence from the
injuries of the air. The roots of the plant
are thoſe fibres which grow from its baſe.
The bulb is formed every year, and a new
one always ſucceeds that which had furniſhed
the ſtalk and flower of the preceding ſeaſon.
A bulb is an embryo plant, covered with
films, and fleſhy matter, formed under ground
upon the baſe of the root of a plant ; a bud
is an embryo ſhrub or tree, covered with
films and ſcales, in the ſame manner, and
formed in the free air upon the branches of
the ſhrub. They are the very ſame in their
nature and conſtruction, and in the end they
а
are

( 13 )
a
ز
are to ſerve. We ſee the bulb ſhoot up a per-
fect plant, without ſurprize ; why then ſhould
we wonder that the bud will have the ſame
fuccefs? Cuſtom has made the one familiar to
us; the other at preſent is new; there is no
other difference.
NOTHING could appear ſo ſtrange as the
producing plants from cuttings, when Lau-
remberg firſt propoſed it to the world, yet
what is now more familiar? The growth of
cuttings is of the ſame nature with this which
is here propoſed; and there is reaſon to be-
lieve, that the propagation by ſingle buds will
ſoon be as common: and probably with pro-
per care it will ſucceed as well in all other
trees and ſhrubs which have buds of a proper
kind, as in thoſe here inſtanced. Many trees
and ſhrubs are deſtitute of buds entirely ; in-
deed thoſe from the hotter countries almoſt
without exception; and in others there are
ſome buds which are deſtined to the produc-
tion of ſome one part of the tree alone, not of
the whole : therefore they will not anſwer
the purpoſe. The Alaternus and the Olean-
der, the common Syringa, and the Tamariſk,
the Savin and the Senſitive Plant, are inſtances,
among many others, of trees and ſhrubs
which have no buds at all, and therefore do
not come within this courſe of propagation.
The Alder has buds for leaves, which contain
no rudiments of flowers, and therefore perfect
plants could not be produced from them.
In the poplar there are diſtinct buds for the
flowers, and others for the leaves; therefore
if

( 14 )
)
if the flower buds were taken, no ſucceſs
could be expected. The Hazel has its buds,
containing leaves and female flowers: the Pine
and Fir male flowers and leaves together: how
theſe buds would ſucceed, is a ſubject of great
curioſity, and is worthy trial : but in general,
the bud of a tree contains the rudiment of the
perfect tree, and therefore a perfect tree may
be produced from it.
This is the uſual condition of buds, and
therefore in the generality of kinds, trees
may be produced by this practice with great
eaſe, and in great abundance. There is alſo,
as I think, another very conſiderable advan-
tage from this method, though the limited
number of experiments I have named, does
not permit me to affirm it with all the cer-
tainty of the other facts. This is, that the
trees produced from buds will naturally be
handſomer and more vigorous than thoſe
raiſed any other way, except from ſeeds : for
in layers there is a great interruption of
the courſe of the juices; and in cuttings it
is uncertain whence the principle of growth
will begin to act, ſo that nature is diſturbed
in her progreſs, and the juices receive a
check in their current, either of thoſe ways ;
the effect of which in nature, we ſee plainly
in the growth of the Pine-apple, and many
ſuch inſtances : whereas when the bud is
planted, the ſucceeding tree riſes ſtrait from
its natural place, and there is no turn given
to the juices, nor any check in the growing.
From the time the rudiment begins to grow,
it

( 15 )
it continues growing; and while it lies in
the bud, it is as much at reſt as the plant
in the ſeed, till nature ſets it to ſhooting.
Art does the ſame in this proceſs, and the
effect is no way different; the tree grows
juſt as the ſhoot would have grown on the
branch. So many buds as there are on a
tree, ſo many perfect trees of the ſame kind
may be produced, if the Gardener takes care
of them ; for each is a young tree, and no
other.
AT a certain diſtance from the root, the
rudiments of leaves, inſtead of forming ſe-
parate leaves, like thoſe below, coaleſce in
their origin, and form a cup; and at the
ſame time, and by the fame power, what-
foever it is, (for 'tis hidden from us in it-
ſelf, tho viſible in the effects) the rind and
pith of the ſtalk, inſtead of continuing the
growth in that form for the farther increaſe
of the branch, break out into broad thin
coloured parts and thready ſubſtances, and
form the reſt of the parts of fructification :
a flower is form’d, and feeds follow : that is,
the plant ceaſes to grow in heighth and
length of branches, for nature has given in
that reſpect a certain law to all; and where
its parts ceaſe to extend themſelves in length,
they terminate in the rudiment of a new plant,
called a feed.
This is the courſe of natural vegetation.
Now art taking its place, produces from
the ground that ſhoot, by planting the bud,
which in the common courſe of things
would have been ſent from the ends of
the
a
a

( 16 )
the branches. It would have produced
flowers and ſeeds when it had grown to a
very ſmall length in that ſtate, becauſe the
heighth of the ſtem, and the length of the
branch whereon it grew, would have placed
it at a due diſtance from the root : but
when it is removed from this ſituation, and
raiſed by planting the bud immediately in
the ground, inſtead of forming only a ſhort
branch, it produces an entire tree, becauſe
the rudiments of leaves will never coaleſce
into a cup, nor will the rind and pith form
flowers and feed veſſels until the allotted
diſtance from the root is once obtained.
LINNÆUS, who adopts from Loeffling this
doctrine of the ſtate of buds, fays, He will
give a great addition to the ſcience, who
fhall ſay what it is that influences the extre-
mities of the plant to burſt out into flowers,
and to form ſeeds. If I may offer my hum-
ble opinion, it is this : Nature has allotted to
every plant, as to every animal, a certain
growth or ſtature which it ſhould not ex-
ceed ; and the cauſe of difference in that
ftature in various plants the placed in their
roots.
EVERY root, I imagine, has ſo much
power as is neceſſary to carry up a plant to
a certain heighth : 'then it ceaſes; and there-
fore there ends the immediate growth of
the plant. When the branch can extend no
farther, its parts all terminate; not ab-
ruptly, for that is not the courſe of nature
in any thing, but each part, according to
its kind, terminates in ſome one of the or-
gans

(17)
gans of the flower, and the reſult of all is a
ſeed ; which being put into the ground will
again grow and extend itſelf, becauſe it gets a
ز
new root.
a
The plant can grow no higher, becauſe its
root can furniſh no more force for the aſcent
of ſap; but the termination of the parts is by
a ſeed, that is a rudiment, which muſt be put
into the ground, and will then get new root,
and therefore grow again.
Art, and the practices of the gardener,
may interrupt and diſturb nature in theſe
operations, and produce vegetable monſters ;
but this appears to be her regular courſe ;
and thus it is that a bud, which if it had
opened on the tree, would have produced
only a ſhort flowering branch, will, like the
feed when planted in the ground, grow to
the heighth of the original tree: for the power
of the root it gives, is ſufficient for that pur-
poſe.
A ROOT is required for this, becauſe only
the power of that organ can extend and in-
1
creaſe the parts; but nothing more is wanting;
for roots, like the polypes and certain worms,
have power even when cut to pieces to re-pro-
duce the ſeveral parts.
FROM theſe conſiderations may be under-
ſtood all that appears wonderful in the pro-
duction of plants from the bud, and conſe-
quently from their other parts : and we ſhall
fee that what appears to be production or
propagation, from the parts in general, is
the ſame thing under another form : and
that the raiſing plants by cuttings, is another
с
way

(18)
a
way of operating by the bud, though not
ſo regularly. If this be proved, it is certain
that the taking a bud itſelf will be preferable
to the ſetting it loaded with a part of a branch.
The rudiment of a root will ſtrike more rea-
dily, when the bud wherein it is contained
is placed immediately in the ground; and the
courſe of the fap will be plainer, ſhorter,
and eaſier, than when it is to run through a
long though uſeleſs branch. This is in ſome
degree reducing the Gardener's art to its
principles; and we ſhall always ſucceed the
better, the more perfectly theſe are under-
ftood.
If it be true, according to theſe remarks,
that a bud is nearly of the nature of a ſeed,
there can be no doubt of its ſucceeding the
better, the nearer we bring its management
to the feed culture. Indeed there is in nature
fomething like an inſtance of it in the plant
Biſtort. This produces bulbs upon the ſtalk,
which are a kind of buds; and theſe uſually
fall off, and take root; but ſometimes they
will ſhoot upon the ſtalk. In the firſt caſe
they produce perfect plants of the ſame kind,
but in the latter always poor, irregular, and
imperfect ones.
C Η Α Ρ. ΙΙ.
Of the dreſing of cuttings with this cement.
AVING ſeen the good effect of this
dreſſing upon the wounded part of theſe
pieces of branches ; that it certainly prevented
H
their

( 19 )
their rotting in the ground, and by that means
gave nature time to operate in the upper part
of the branch; I reſolved to try its effect
upon ſome cuttings of thoſe tender exctics
which are found commonly to fail. It ap-
peared to me, that the only cauſe of this was
the rotting of the lower part of the cutting ;
and conſequently, that if this dreſſing could
prevent that, it would ſecure the growth of
the ſhoot.
MR. MILLER, in his Gardener's Dictio-
nary, ſays, " Some have afferted the coffee
tree would grow from cuttings; but that
« in all the different trials he had made, he
never could obtain one plant that way."
Nobody will doubt this author's experience, or
that he knew how to manage his cuttings per-
fectly well: for this reaſon I fixed upon the
:
coffee-tree for the kind I ſhould firſt try in my
56
ز
new way
NOVEMBER the third, 1757, I took off
ſome cuttings of the coffee-tree in the uſual
way; I wiped the wounded part very dry,
and dreſſed it with ſome of the cement juſt
melted ſo as to run. I planted theſe cut-
tings in pots in the common way, and ſet the
pots up to the rim in the bark bed in the
ftove.
As this was a point of importance, as well
as curioſity, I did not think it juft to riſk the
whole upon one trial; therefore,
NOVEMBER the 28th, I took off ſome more
cuttings from a coffee-tree, dreſſed them with
the ſame care, and planted them in the ſame
manner
a

( 20 )
manner in pots, plunging them into the bark
bed in the ſtove.
APRIL 20, I examined theſe cuttings, and
found they were in a very healthy condition.
May 16, I again examined them, and they
had ſhot fix inches in heighth, and had got
very good roots.
On the 12th of DECEMBER I took off ſome
Slips of the coffee-tree, wiped the wounded
part, and dreſſed them with cement. I
planted theſe in the ſame manner as the cut-
tings, and gave them the ſame care; they
ſucceeded as well, but not at all better than
the cuttings. They all furniſhed very good
and healthy plants.
From theſe experiments it appears, that
thoſe tender and precious ſhrubs and trees,
which will not grow in the common way
from cuttings, may be brought to ſucceed
in this manner: and this is a very conſider-
able uſe of the dreſſing here deſcribed. It
is a nice and difficult article to hit the right
ingredients and juſt proportions : many have
failed in various operations, who uſed ſuch
mixtures as were ill made up ; but ours
will certainly anſwer this and the former pur-
poſes, as well as many others, to be named
hereafter.
That this effect of the dreſſing upon the
cuttings of tender plants, might be confirmed
or refuted by more inſtances,
APRIL 17, I took off fome cuttings of the
orange and lemon trees in the common me-
thod uſed in cuttings : I wiped the raw ends
very dry, and dreſſed them with the cement.
I planted

( 21 )
I planted theſe in pots, and plunged them in
the bark bed in the ſtove.
MAY 28, I examined them, and found
they had began to ſhoot.
JUNE 20, they had ſhot three or four
inches, and got very good roots.
APRIL 6, to confirm this practice by ano-
ther inſtance, I took off fome cuttings of the
DOUBLE OLEANDER: I wiped the wounded
parts, covered them carefully with the dreſ-
fing, planted them in pots, and plunged them
in the bark bed in the ſtove.
MAY 29, I examined theſe: they had all
done very well; every cutting had ſhot fix
inches, and they had all got very good roots.
APRIL 12, 1758, I took off ſome cuttings
of the coffee-tree, wiped the raw part dry, and
covered it carefully with the dreſſing; I then
planted them in pots, and plunged them in
the bark bed in the ſtove.
MAY 30, I examined the pots; I found
every one of the cuttings had formed a good
and thriving plant: they had fhot fix inches in
length, and had got good roots.
These experiments Thew, that the dref-
fing agrees equally well with the genera-
lity of plants, preſeiving the lower part from
decay, and by that means giving nature an
uninterrupted courſe for the nouriſhment of
the ſhoot above, and time to ſend out roots
from the part below in the ſame manner ;
for when nouriſhment is received, and the
vegetable principle is unimpaired, the ſhoot-
ing of roots from the part below the ſurface,
is

( 22 )
is as natural as the fending out of branches
from above.
It is plain this uſe of the dreſſing may be
of great benefit
, ſince it will cauſe many plants
to ſucceed by cuttings, which would not
otherwiſe do that way at all ; and will make
others ſucceed freely and generally, which
without this affiftance would anſwer but fel-
dom, and at the beſt but poorly. The pre-
venting the decay of the bottom of the cut-
ting is the great article ; for when that rots it
deſtroys the whole. The decay of this is like
a mortification in animal bodies, as ſoon as it
has ſeized the part, it ſpreads and infects, and
deſtroys all.
This decay in cuttings is occafioned by
the moiſture of the ground which affects the
raw parts; but if that be guarded from the
miſchief, nature does all the reſt. The
Gardener need only prevent the decay of the
cutting, the growth will follow without his
affiftance.
BUT though the effect of the dreſfing for
this purpoſe is general, it is not univerſal :
though it will anſwer with moſt plants, it
will not do with all. This I have found by
the like experiments, and it becomes me to
acknowledge it : phyſicians have done the
world as much ſervice by giving accounts
of diſeaſes wherein remedies failed, as of
thoſe in which they fucceeded; and I would
not ſerve this cauſe, even by filence, where it
failed.
APRIL 19, I tried it on the ſenſitive
plant. I took off fome cuttings with great
caution,

( 23 )
caution, being ſenſible how difficult it would
be to make them ſucceed : the pots were
ready with excellent mould, and the dreſſing
on the fire ; I wiped the raw ends dry, co-
vered them carefully with the cement, and
planting them with all poſſible care, plunged
the pots into the bark bed in the ftove. They
*all died.
WILLING to make another trial, that I
might be ſure wherein this method failed, as
well as where it ſucceeded, on the 28th of
May I dreſſed another parcel of cuttings of
the ſenſitive plant in the ſame manner, uſing,
if poſſible, more caution than at firſt, that they
might have every poſſible advantage. JULY
29, I examined the pots, and theſe were alſo
all entirely dead.
In experiments on raiſing the ſenſitive plant
by cuttings therefore, this method fails; but
it is the only plant on which I have hitherto
found it ineffectual.
IT is plain therefore, that the uſe of this
method will be extremely beneficial, not only
for the raiſing plants from buds, but alſo
from cuttings. That ſtrange writer, Agricola,
who firſt propoſed this kind of propagation,
has diſgraced his work by many falfhoods ;
and for that reaſon, what was true and uſeful
in it, was long neglected ; neither had he
the ſecret of a good cement, nor the great
advantage of ftoves : ſo that while, on the
one hand, he has ventured to affert much
more than is true, on the other he had not
opportunities of knowing all that could be
done by it.
THAT

( 24 )
THAT author has aſſerted that trees may
be produced from leaves. He ſays, the ten-
der part between the ribs decays, and the
fibres grow up into branches: he has even
given relations and figures of orange and lemon
trees, and many others, which he ſays he
raiſed in this manner. Though there was lit-
tle probability of truth in theſe accounts, yet
being upon the ſubject, I reſolved to give this
alſo a fair trial, uſing on ſome leaves of each
kind the cement he directs, and on others my
own. The reſult will be found in the follow-
ing chapter.
NOVE
CH A P. IV.
EXPERIMENTS on LEAVES.
(OVEMBER 3, 1757, I picked four dozen
healthy leaves of the common laurel : I
took them carefully from the tree, with no
buds joining to them: I ſmoothed the end
when they were pulled off with a ſharp knife,
wiped it dry, covered it with the dreſſing ;
and thus preparing them all, I planted them
in four middle-fized garden-pots, one dozen
in each. Two of theſe were expoſed to the
air, the one under a ſouth wall, the other
without that ſhelter, and both ſet up to the
rim in mould; a third I ſet in the green
houſe, and the fourth pot I plunged in the
bark bed in the ſtove. This laſt place was
choſen to promote the ſhooting of the fibres,
nothing having ſo great power for that pur-
poſe.
THAT

( 25 )
of orange
THAT the determination of this point
might not reft upon one ſet of experiments
made at only one ſeaſon, APRIL 12, 1758,
I took off two dozen more leaves of laurel,
with the ſame precaution: I dreſſed them in
the ſame manner, and planted them in a ſhady
border.
MAY 29, 1758, I took off a third parcel of
laurel leaves, and dreſſing them as the others,
planted them alſo in a ſhady border.
At the ſame time I examined thoſe of the
NOVEMBER planting, and found them all dead
in all ſituations.
APRIL 19, I took off fome healthy leaves
and lemon trees ; cut the raw ends
ſmooth, wiped them dry, covered them with
the cement, and planted them with all poſſi-
ble care in pots of good mould, and plunged
them in the bark bed in the ſtove.
FROM time to time I gave theſe all poſſible
advantages for promoting their growth.
MAY 29, I examined them; they were
all dead, without any attempt to ſhoot out
fibres.
MAY 30, I ſelected another parcel, pre-
pared and planted them with the ſame care,
and gave them all the poffible advantages for
growth,
JULY 29, I examined them, and found
them all dead; no one having made any ats
tempt to ſhoot out any fibres.
That this might not reft upon one ſpecies
in the ſtove, I determined to try alſo the cof-
fee-tree,
D
APRIL

( 26 )
a
APRIL 27, I took off ſome very fine and
freſh leaves from a healthy coffee-tree, ſmooth-
ed the raw ends, covered them with cement,
and planted them in pots. I ſet theſe in the
bark bed in the ſtove, gave them all the ſame
advantages with the others, and on ſearching
them, MAY 30, I found them all dead.
DURING the courſe of this experiment, on
the 16th of May, I took off another parcel of
the coffee-leaves, dreſſed them with the ſame
care, and planted them in the ſame manner.
JUNE 27, I examined them, and found
them all dead.
ALL this time the laurel-leaves of the ſeve-
ral Spring plantations remained in the ground;
and I beſtowed on them the common care,
being determined to omit nothing that might
give fair play to the experiment; nor to take
up any leaf till it ſhould be evidently dead.
AUGUST 26, 1758, I examined carefully
thoſe leaves which had been planted in APRIL,
May, and JUNE, removing the mould a little
from them. It is certain ſome of them have
ſhot a few fibres from the lower part of the
foot-ſtalk. What will be the reſult, is im-
poſſible to ſay, the proſpect of ſucceſs is very
little; but the queſtion is not fully decided.
a
Since this I have found by trials at Bayſwater that Lady-
Smock will grow from the leaf, and there are ſome others.
J. HILL.
С НАР.

(27
CHA P. V.
OF PROPAGATION of Trees by parts of the
Roots.
FRO
ROM the ſucceſs of the method of propa-
gation by ſmall pieces of the branches of
trees, it is natural to conceive that ſmaller or
larger pieces of the roots will anſwer the pur-
pofe ; and the fame author who has treated of
the laſt experiment, mixing truth with falſe.
hood, has named alſo this.
REASON is very fairly on the ſide of the
experiment. We ſee that roots, wherever
they reach the ſurface of the ground, ſhoot
up into young trees; and we find, by ma-
nifold experience and obſervation, that the
difference between roots and branches, is
little more in nature, than that the one are
buried under ground, the other kept above
it. This new method of propagation de-
pends upon one principle, namely, that the
rudiments of new plants are lodged in all
parts of the old, and are ready to grow
from them to perfection, whenever they
have proper advantages. Therefore it ſhould
appear to reaſon, that if a piece of a root
can be kept from decaying in the earth, it
will produce one or more new plants. This
I propoſed to try by the following experi-
ment :
NOVEMBER 3, 1757, I raiſed carefully by
opening the ground, a large horizontal root
of the WILLOW-LEAVED BUCKTHORN. I
trimmed
D 2

( 28 )
trimmed off all the ſide ſhoots; and cutting
the two ends ſmooth, wiped them perfectly
dry, and covered them with the dreſſing all
over the raw parts; not only the two ends,
but the ſeveral places alſo from whence I had
cut the ſide ſhoots and large fibres. I opened
a trench in a bed in the nurſery long enough
to receive the whole piece, and laid it in hori-
zontally, and covered it an inch deep with
mould, not raiſing a ridge over it, but keeping
the place on a level with the reſt of the bed.
APRIL 12, I examined this ground, and
found a great many ſhoots riſing up at dif-
ferent diſtances from the whole length of the
root.
APRIL 30, many of the ſhoots have got
fix inches high, and all appear very vigor-
MAY 20, ſeveral of the ſhoots are a foot
long, and promiſe to make very ſtrong and
fine plants.
JUNE 27, I took up the entire root, and cut
it into as many pieces as there were good
ſhoots : thus every young plant had a piece of
the large root for its baſe, and a multitude of
ſmall fibres newly ſhot.
I WIPED the two raw ends of every piece,
covered them carefully with the dreſſing,
and juſt trimmed the extremities of the new
fibres.
I planted them in a ſhady border in the
nurſery, and occaſionally watered them. I
have ſo many fine plants. Theſe ſeemed in
danger at the firſt removal, and I believe it
would
Ous.
a

( 29 )
و
would be better hereafter, when plants are thus
raiſed, to let them ſtand till the next Spring
before they are moved.
To try whether the roots of trees would
not produce new ſhoots as well when cut to
pieces, as in the entire length,
NOVEMBER 3, the ſame day with the firſt
experiment, I took up another root of the
ſame ſhrub, and cut it into pieces of two or
three inches in length; I ſmoothed the raw
ends of each piece, took off the ſide ſhoots,
and covered the two raw ends, and all the
ſmall wounds made by taking off the fibres,
with the dreſſing. I planted them, at the
ſame time, with the entire root in the nurſery,
and gave them the fame care. The ſucceſs
was the fame.
JUNE the 28th, they had all ſhot up one
or more new plants. I took them up, took
off all but the beſt ſhoot, and planted them
in the nurſery, where they are now growing-
That this experiment might not reſt upon
one trial, or ſeem appropriated only to one
plant; on the ſame day, NOVEMBER 3, 1757,
I took up two roots of a Virginian Acacia,
which was in good health, and could ſpare
them without danger. One of theſe I dreſſed
entire, the other I cut into pieces of two or
three inches long; and covering all the wounds
with the cement, I planted them in the ſame
manner as the others, in an open part of the
nurſery, laying them lengthwiſe in a ſhallow
trench, and covering them an inch with
mould.
IN
2
3

(30)
a
In froſty weather I threw a little peas-baulm
over the ground.
APRIL 24, I examined the ground, and
found young plants riſing from almoſt all the
ſmall pieces of the root, and a great many
from the entire one.
MAY 20, I had from theſe roots a great
many fine plants of a foot or more in height.
JUNE 27, I took up the large root, and
cut it into as many pieces as there were good
plants; I wiped theſe dry at the ends, and co-
vering them with cement, planted them out
in the nurſery. They ſucceed very well; but
required care at firſt. It will be beſt to let
theſe plants all ſtand till the next Spring be-
fore they are removed.
To try whether the root would ſucceed beſt
naked, or with the fibres about it, the fame
day, NOVEMBER 3, 1757, I planted a root of
the Sallow thorn, and another of the Virginian
Acacia with their fibres. Theſe are no hin-
drance, and they appear to me to be an ad-
vantage. The great point is ſecuring the root
from decaying at the two wounded ends ; for
if that be prevented perfectly, nature will do
all the reſt.
The preſſing down the mould about the
root when firſt planted, is a very neceſſary
caution; and in the courſe of the experiment,
the place muſt be kept moiſt with due water-
ings. According to the more or leſs hardy
nature of the ſhrub the root will require more
or leſs ſhelter and defence in winter; and with
this
management there is no doubt of perfect
ſucceſs.
AT

( 31 )
At the ſame time that I made theſe experi-
ments on the roots of European and American
ornamental ſhrubs, I was determined to try it
alſo on fruit trees.
NOVEMBER 3, 1757, I took up two long
pieces of the ſpreading roots of an apple-
tree, beginning at ſome diſtance from the
ſtem; and opening the ground all along,
that I might get up the extreme part of the
roots, with their ſmall diviſions. One of theſe
I cut into lengths, and the other I left entire,
not cutting off the fide ſhoots or fibres
from either. I fmoothed the wounded ends
with a ſharp knife, and covered them per-
fectly with the dreſſing or cement juſt made
warm.
a
I opened a trench in a bed of the nurſery,
and laid them in, covering them an inch over
the upper part, with mould preſſed well down
in every part about them. I allowed theſe
the ſame care as in the former inſtances, and
they ſucceeded as well.
APRIL 7, 1758, I examined the ground;
ſeveral young plants appeared both from the
entire roots and the pieces.
MAY 20, 1758, many of the new plants
had ſhot a foot high, and were very vigorous
and promiſing.
JULY 27, I took up the entire root, cut it
into as many pieces as there were good plants;
and wiping their raw ends dry, covered them
with cement, and planted them out in the
nurſery.
They prove very good plants.
THE
a

( 32 )
ز
The pieces of the root planted at the ſame
time ſucceeded alſo very well ; and having
been tranſplanted into the nurſery, are now
good plants.
AT the ſame time, NOVEMBER 3, 1757, I
took
up two handſome pieces of the root of a
pear-tree, and managed them in the ſame
manner exactly as thoſe of the apple-tree in
the former inſtance. They were planted in
the ſame manner, and had the ſame ſucceſs.
That which had been laid in the ground en-
tire, I cut in July into as many pieces as
there were good plants upon it, and the others
I trimmed of all ſhoots but one to each. The
wounded parts I wiped dry, and covered with
cement, and planting them in the nurſery with
the common care, they are all now thriving
plants.
THAT this experiment, which may be uſe-
ful to Nurſerymen, and all who deſire to raiſe
a great number of plants, might not reſt upon
fo few kinds, I extended it at the ſame time
to ſeveral other trees and ſhrubs.
NOVEMBER 4, 1757, I cut off ſome roots
of the Elm, the Oak, the Cherry, the Plumb-
tree, the common White-thorn, and the Pla-
tanus: ſome of theſe I planted in the whole
lengths, and others in each kind I cut into
ſhort pieces, covering with cement the wounded
parts, and planting them in the ſame manner
as thoſe before mentioned, and the ſucceſs was
alſo the famne.
APRIL 30, I examined the ground, and
found they had all ſent up vigorous ſhoots.
MAY

Puge,32
PL.2.
Propagation by the Root

OF
CH

( 33 )
MAY 26, moſt of them had ſhot a foot or
more in length, and were very promiſing.
Theſe I treated in the ſame manner as the pre-
ceding; and as many of them as I choſe to
preſerve, are now fine plants.
I AM of opinion, however, in regard of
theſe as well as the others, that if they had
been ſuffered to remain till the next Spring be-
fore they were removed, they would have done
better, and with leſs trouble.
CH A P. VI.
Of PROPAGATION by large BRANCHES.
THE
HE ſame kind of reaſoning, which led
us to believe that the roots, or pieces
of roots, would raiſe young plants, being
very naturally extended to the branches, I
was determined to try what would be the
ſucceſs upon experience. The difference be-
tween roots and branches being very little,
the ſame method may be uſed for one as for
the other.
NOVEMBER 12, 1757, I took off a branch
of an apple-tree, and rubbed away ſo many of
the buds, as to leave them only at three
inches diſtance, or thereabout, and as much as
could be all on one ſide of the branch. I
ſmoothed the end, wiped it dry, and covered
it with the cement, as alſo the places where
the buds had been rubbed off. Thus pre-
pared, I laid the branch in a trench opened
in the nurſery, in a bed of good mould, and
covered it an inch, preſſing the mould very
well about it.
E
APRIL

( 34 )
ing up
APRIL 27, 1757, I examined the ground,
and found a great many very fine plants com-
Horo
уоти
MAY 26, they had fhot fix or eight inches,
and got good roots. omil cebudod
JUNE 12, the plants being all very vigorous,
I took up the branch, cut it into as many
length as there were plants, covered both ends
with cement, and planted theſe in a ſhady bed
in the nurſery.
2790
JUNE 30, I examined the plants, by remov-
ing a little of the mould, and found they had
got freſh root. They ſucceed very well; but
probably would have done yet better, if left in
the ground with the entire branch till the fuc-
ceeding ſpring zasla dulced bar boor
At the ſame time that I began theſe laſt
experiments on the Apple-tree, I tried alſo the
Pear.
ams xi bi moody bonele
malls
NOVEMBER 12, 1757, I cut off a hand-
fome branch of a Pear-tree, rubbed off a part
of the buds, and ſmoothing the wounded end
with a ſharp knife, I covered it with the ce-
ment, as alſo the places where the buds were
rubbed off. I planted this in the ſame manner
as the other, and with the ſame ſucceſs.
JUNE 12, I took up the branch, cut it into
as many lengths as there were good ſhoots,
and planted them out in the nurſery, cement-
ing firſt the two wounded ends. They are all
now living, and are thriving plants.
To extend this experiment to other kinds of
ſhrubs and trees, I made choice of the Sallow
Thorn, Elm, and the Virginian Acacia. The
reſult
a

( 35 )
а.
3
reſult was different, and I ſhall give it ſepa-
rately
NOVEMBER 9, 1757, I cut off a branch of
the Sallow Thorn, or Sea Buckthorn, rubbed
off a part of the buds, ſmoothed the wounded
end with a ſharp knife, and covered that part,
and the places where the buds had been, with
melted cement,
I planted this in a trench in
the nurſery, in a bed of good mould, as the
others.
Yo so
APRIL 7, ſeveral very good plants appeared.
MAY 20, I cut the branch into ſeveral
pieces, each having a good ſhoot ; and cover-
ing the two wounded ends with cement, plant-
ed them in another bed. They are all now
good and healthy plants.
ha
APRIL 20, 1758, I cut off in the ſame
manner fome branches of an elm-tree, and
planted them with the ſame caution in a ſhady
border of the nurſery. SI
JUNE 29, I examined the ground: they had
all taken root, and there were a great many
good ſhoots from them.
tim quoddiy
NOVEMBER 15, 1757, I cut off a good
branch of the Virginian Acacia, ſmoothed off
the wounded end, wiped it very dry, and co-
vered it with melted cement. I planted this
in the ſame manner, and with the ſame care
as the other, covering the ground in froſts
with peas-haum, and removing it when milder.
APRIL 30, I examined the ground; no-
thing was feen coming up; but on removing
a little of the mould, the branch appeared to
be alive.
JUNE
3
و
E 2

( 36 )
.
3
3
JUNE 2, I examined it again: the branch
was quite dead, and there had been no appear-
ance of any ſhoot from it.
This method by the branches of trees, is
but a different way of raiſing by the bud, but
we ſee it is not univerſal; though it will fuc-
ceed with the far greater part of plants. The
Gardener may underſtand by this, that when
he would try a new method of any kind what-
ſoever, he ſhould not limit his experiments to
one ſort of plants, nor be diſcouraged at their
failing in one ſpecies. It is plain, that the
fame method may be ſucceſsful in one inſtance
which fails in others. 0. O boot blo
As to the branches and pieces of branches
laid horizontally in the ground, they will thus
produce plants of a good kind; ſo will at any
time pieces of them, cut to a proper length,
ſecured from rotting in the wounded parts,
and placed in an erect poſition with
FEBRUARY 6, 1758, I cut off ſome ſhoots
of an Apple-tree a foot long, and took a piece
of the old wood with them, I fmoothed the
raw parts, covered them with cement, and
planted them in a bed in the nurſery, at fix
inches diſtance, leaving only an inch of the
ſhoot above the ground. I gave them the
common advantages of new planted things,
and watered the bed at times.io
MAY 27, I examined theſe; they had all
ſucceeded perfectly well; they had taken good
root, and ſhot about fix inches in height.
MARCH 7, 1758, I repeated the experi-
ment upon ſome ſhoots of the Pear-tree. I
cut theſe off, in the ſame manner, at about a
foot

( 37 )
a
foot long, and took a piece of the old wood
with each. I ſmoothed the ends, covered
them with the cement, and planted them in
the ſame manner in a bed in the nurſery.
MAY 26, I examined them; they had all
fhot about fix inches in length, and had got
very good roots. They are now ſo many very
fine plants. aidd. vd bohobusem
THAT this experiment might not be limited
to the fruit kinds, I choſe the common Elm
for another inſtance. ad Tom doslo
FEBRUARY 6, 1758, I cut fome ſhoots of
the Elm in the ſame manner, with a piece of
the old wood to each : I ſmoothed the raw
ends, and covered them with cement, and
planted them exactly as the others, in a bed
in the nurſery. bil boog
MAY 27, I examined the ground, and
found they had all fhot five or fix inches in
height, and were ftout and flouriſhing plants,
having all good roots.
This tends to confirm the general doctrine
upon which theſe experiments were all eſtab-
liſhed which is, that any part of a tree
which can be preſerved from rotting when in
the ground, will ſend up a new plant of the
ſame kind; and that the danger of decay is
not in any of the parts covered with the bark,
but only in thoſe which have been new
wounded. It appears that the cement or dreſ-
fing here directed, will preſerve thoſe parts ;
and therefore that by its means trees and ſhrubs
may be produced from all their parts.
I SHALL cloſe this little work by a method
not altogether of the ſame kind with theſe ;
but

( 38 )
:
but as it will ſucceed in ſeveral caſes, where
the common way fails, it may not be unwor-
thy of the notice of Gardeners.
19.30 med
od to 270181 Tomos
CHA P. VII. vilnih
SISTIVAL
A Way of raiſing Trees from the Root.
ТО
O raiſe a new plant from the root of thoſe
kinds which will not take as layers, or
grow from cuttings, I uſe this method : I lay
open
pen the earth over one of the roots of a thriv-
a
ing tree, of half an inch diameter, or more,
according to the nature and growth of the
tree : in ſmall and tender trees, ſmaller roots
will do. I raiſe this out of the ground, cut-
ting it two-thirds through, and trim off all the
fide fibres for about fix or eight inches of the
root : then I dreſs all the wounded parts with
the cement juſt warmed, and keep the wound-
ed part of the root for about five inches length
out of the ground, ſupporting it by a forked
ſtick.
0163951 30
Ogu.m
Thus it has the advantage of its own fibres,
and of the general vegetation and growth of
the tree, all the time that it is thus kept up
,
above the ground. It has been faid before,
that the branches and roots of trees differ in
nature the one are un-
DIOCL way, the
der ground, and the other in the open air ;
and therefore this part of a root being raiſed
into the air, what grows from it will be of the
nature of a branch or ſhoot, not of a root.
The Spring is the beſt ſeaſon for doing this ;
,
and if due care be uſed, it will always ſucceed.
There
no
bot
S2
3
vegetation is thus kept
up
be

(39)
There will be young ſhoots produced from the
part that is in the air. Theſe ſhould ſtand till
the next Spring to be well eſtabliſhed, and
they may then be cut off, and will readily and
certainly fucceed.
I HAVE raiſed in this manner plants of the
Double Oleander, the Cotton-tree, and of ſe-
veral other kinds, the moſt difficult to be raiſed
by the uſual methods of culture.
Thus have I laid down what experience
has fhewn me, upon frequent and repeated
trials, relating to the methods propoſed by
others, and uſed in my own practice, for
raiſing valuable trees in abundance, and in
an expeditious method; and I hope my bro-
ther Gardeners will find the advantage. They
may indeed do much more ; for though the
experiments I have made amount to ſeveral
hundreds, yet they have been limited to only
a few ſpecies out of that almoſt infinite va-
riety nature has thrown before us. Theſe ex-
periments may be eaſily repeated, in theſe
kinds, and new ones may be made upon the
fame principles. Perhaps alſo the few I have
made unſucceſsfully, may, in the hands of
ſome others, be crowned with ſucceſs; for
nature is very various ; the event of ex-
periments frequently depends upon little cir-
cumſtances in particular caſes which are not
ſeen; and which, though they have prevent-
ed it in one place, may not occur in ano-
ther. Even the Senſitive plant may, perhaps,
riſe from cemented cuttings under ſome other
hand.
FINALLY,

(40)
FINALLY, the great queſtion relating to the
growth by leaves, is not yet decided. I ſhall
with care obſerve, and mark again thoſe
which at the publication of this little work
ſeem to give tokens of life, and ſhew fome
root. I ſhall alſo repeat the experiments on
various other leaves, and hope others will join
me in theſe trials. The thing ſeems ſtrange;
but who can ſay, what is, or what is not, in
the power of Nature !
F IN I S.



THE
PR A СТІ СЕ
OF
GARDENING.
By T. PERFECT,
A PUPIL of Dr. HILL.
LONDON:
Printed for M. COOPER, in Pater-noſter-Row, 1759.
[Price One Shilling and Six-pence.]


The PRACTICE of GARDENING
explained.
BO
a
INTRODUCTION.
STORE
od
OOKS of GARDENING are tedious ;
and difficult to be underſtood : and the
beſt of them are very expenſive. They are be-
yond the reach of many a working gardener who
wiſhes to improve himſelf; nor is it worth a gen-
tleman's while, who raiſes a few flowers for his
amuſement, to purchaſe them: neither would it
anſwer either his purpoſe, or the others, if they
did.
tad fra
THESE writers in general are obſcure; for two
reaſons: they do not chuſe to reveal the true fe-
crets of their art; for they are not willing to
make every body a gardener, tho' that is the
pretence of their writing; and even where they
are willing to be more candid, they expreſs them-
ſelves in ſuch a manner that a common reader
cannot underſtand them. They talk to thoſe
who want to learn the buſineſs, as if they had
already underſtood it; and therefore they are
uſeleſs.
wo
This is the reaſon why the practice of garden-
ing ſucceeds ſo poorly, while it is pretended to
be explained to every one: and for this reaſon
the preſent ſhort account is publiſhed: which
contains the whole without reſerve; and is fo
plain that any body may underſtand it.
A 2
С НАР.
ز

[4]
10
A
CHAP. I.
The Diviſion of a PLEASURE-GARDEN.
GENTLEMAN who has a pleaſure-garden,
ſhould confider it under four articles. He
is to have, 1. Hardy plants; and 2. Flowering
fhrubs; both which ſtand all the year in the bor-
ders:
3. Tender-annuals; which are to be raiſed
in hot-beds, and brought into the common bor-
ders during ſummer; and, 4. Choice flowers,
which are produced in ſeed-beds with great care,
and afterwards planted in particular beds.
Of the firſt fort, or hardy plants, that ſtand
the winter, are Campanulas, French honeyſuckles,
Hollybocks, Columbines, Sweet-williams, Wall-
flowers, and the like. Theſe are to be raiſed
from ſeed in a nurſery, and brought into the gar-
den the ſeaſon before they are to flower.
Of the ſecond kind, or ſhrubs, are Roſes, Ho-
neyſuckles, Lilac's, or the like, which are to be
raiſed from layers or cuttings, or from ſuckers,
in the ſame nurſery with the hardy plants.
Of the third kind, or Tender-annuals, are
French and African Marygolds, Balfams, Globe
Amaranths, and China-afters. Theſe are to be
removed from one hot-bed to another; till the
ſeaſon growing warm, and they gathering
ſtrength, they are at length planted in the bor-
ders; and thrive as if they had been raiſed there
from the firſt.
Of the fourth kind, or choice flowers, are
Auriculas's, Carnations, Tulips, Anemones, Ra-
nuculus's, and the like. Theſe are all perennial,
ز
5
and

[5]
and to have them in perfection, they muſt be
raiſed from ſeed in a nurſery, and in due time
brought into the garden.
UNDER theſe four heads may be comprehend-
ed the whole practice of common gardening; and
as each claſs of theſe has a particular courſe of cul-
ture, the buſineſs may accordingly be divided into
four kinds : 1. The raiſing tender annuals on
hot-beds in ſpring. 2. The raiſing hardy bien-
nials or perennials in the nurſery in the open
ground. 3. The management of choice and cu-
rious flowers: which differs no way from the
former, but in that it requires more time and
care : and,
4:
The
propagating trees and ſhrubs,
by cuttings, layers, or ſuckers. He that knows
how to do theſe four things, is qualified to take
care of any common garden; and when he right-
ly underſtands the culture of one plant of either
claſs, he will know how to manage them all.
Any plant in the world is reducible to one or
other of theſe four kinds; and therefore all gar-
dening may be compriſed within this moderate
compaſs. Thoſe who have extended it to large
volumes, have delivered ſeparately the culture of
every ſpecies: but this is only repeating, many
times over, the very fame directions.
2
CHA P. II.
Of the Diſpoſition of a GARDEN.
BEFORE the care of railing plants, there na-
turally comes the proviſion of a foil for them
to grow in. The garden muſt have good mould,
and

[6
and the proper conveniencies, elſe no art can give
it beauty.lv
If the borders be poor, bring in ſome old well
rotted dung, mixed with ſome rich and freſh
pa-
fure mould, and a good quantity of that rotten
earth which is found under old ſtacks of faggots.
Theſe ſhould be well worked together, and then
dug into the ground, in ſuch quantity as may
appear neceſſary : more when it is poorer, and
leſs when it is ſomething better.
Let the ground be open to the ſouth, ſouth-
eaſt and ſouth-weſt, but well ſheltered againft
the north and north-eaſt. If former ill manage-
ment has ſuffered trees or walls to thoſe quarters
where it ſhould be open, let them be lopped,
taken down or removed, and if there wants
ſhelter on the other ſides, let it be given by a
plantation of foreſt trees, or by walls.
This ground will feed and defend the choiceſt
plants which bear the open air in our climate.
The next requiſite is water. Ponds muſt be
ſunk in proper Places; and theſe ſhould be fhal-
low and clayed at the bottom. If nature has
given fuch, it is very fortunate; if not, they
muſt be made. Any water will do that has ſtood
ſome time in ſuch places; even pump-water it-
ſelf: for it foftens with the air and fun. In a
ground of ſome extent, there ſhould be two or
three of theſe ; becauſe the labour of carrying
water to a diſtance is very great, and when gar-
deners neglect it, the plants never thrive.
All that is required farther, is a nurſery, and
a place for hot-beds. A piece of ground about
an

[7]
a
a
an eighth part as big as the garden, will ſerve for
a nurſery; and one but half as big as that, will
be ſufficient for the other purpoſe.
The nurſery fhould lie to the ſouth-eaſt, and
be well ſheltered from the cold quarters. It ſhould
be hid from the garden, becauſe there is no
beauty in it; and there ſhould be a little of the
fame enriching ingredients allowed to the mould
in this place, that are uſed for the borders in the
garden. It muſt not be ſo much; becauſe the
plants will thrive better for being removed into
a ſomewhat richer foil: but yet there ſhould be
ſome. It is a cuſtom to let the nurſery have a
very poor ground, but that is wrong; as extremes
commonly are. Mr. North of Lambeth has a
nurſery where the ſoil is very rich; and upon
enquiry I find no plants ſucceed better than thoſe
which have been brought out of his ground. On
talking with that experienced nurſeryman, he
gave me the following reaſons: That if the ſeeds
be ſown in a poor foil, the firſt ſhoot will be
weaks and when they come to be removed out
of the feed-bed into a nurſery-bed, they are
hardly able to get over the check of it: whereas
if they are firſt raiſed in tolerably good ground,
the original ſhoot is ſtrong, and the power
of
vegetation foon gets over the check of that and
the other removals. This is agreeable to rea-
fon, and he found it true in many years practice:
ſo alſo have I. in ſhort, ſuch as the firſt foot is,
ſuch the tree or plant will be; and the old prac-
tice of keeping a nurſery poor, is wrong. But
moderation muſt be the rule; and though the
mould

[ 8
ޕް
mould of this ſpot ſhould be good, it muſt not
be equally rich with that of the garden.
The aſpect determines where the nurſery muſt
be placed ; but the ſpot for the hot-beds muſt
be choſen according to convenience. It ſhould
be a warm corner of the ground, near the bor-
ders, though hid from fight; and it muſt be
alſo near the ſtable, or the place from whence
the dung is to be brought. The cloſer it is to
the borders, the eaſier it will be to remove the
plants with good balls of earth to their roots;
and they will always take the ſooner, the better
the old earth is preſerved about them.
THERE is no piece of ground ſo ſmall, but
this diviſion may be put in practice: and ſetting
out right, all the reſt will be eaſy.
The ground being prepared, we may proceed
to the four methods of culture by which the
plants are to be raiſed.
SECTION 1.
The HOT-BED Culture,
HE flowers we raiſe for the latter end of
fummer and autumn, are moſtly natives of
warmer climates, and their roots periſh in win-
ter. They are to be produced every year from
feed; and as our early weather is too cold for
them, we are obliged to raiſe them with the af-
fiftance of heat and ſhelter early in the ſpring;
that they may be forward in the beginning of
fummer, ſo as to flower in autumn: and after
having decorated our garden for the two lateſt
months, may ripen their feeds before the froſt,
nips their roots. This is the reaſon of the hot-
bed culture, which is to be performed in the
following manner.
СНАР.

[9]
a
C Η Α Ρ. Ι.
The making of the HOT-BED.
TH
HE hot-bed is a bed of mould warmed by
the vapour of dung, and covered from the
air by a frame.
The mould ſhould be the ſame with that of
the borders of the garden, but it muſt be ſkreen-
ed very fine. And the firſt care is this: In the
month of January a fufficient quantity of this
fine mould muſt be brought into the hot-bed
quarter, and laid in a heap. There will be re-
quired for theſe plants a ſucceſſion of three hot-
beds; and there ſhould be as much mould firſt
laid in, as will be ſufficient for them all.
The frames are next to be prepared. The
number and bigneſs of theſe muſt be proportion-
ed to the quantity of plants intended to be raiſed;
but care muſt be taken they are well put toge-
ther; and that the glaſſes ſhut clofe upon them.
This will bring on the time to the middle of Fe-
bruary, and the dung ſhould then be got ready,
and the ground opened for the beds. Get in a
good quantity of coal-aſhes ſifted, but not very
fine, and ſave the cinders in another heap: then
bring in three or four loads of dung, more or
leſs, according to the ground. Let it come with
the litter among it; and the wetter it is with the
urine the better. Any dung of horſes will do,
but that of high-fed coach-horſes is beſt. It
ſhould be brought directly from the ſtable into
the ground. As this is wheeled in, ſome of the
fifted aſhes inuſt be ſprinkled over it. About
B
five

[ 10 ]
а
five pecks to a load of dung ſhould be thus add-
ed, and mixed in well among it.
When all the dung is made up into a heap
with this mixture, let it lye eight days to heat.
THEN mark out the place where the beds are
to be made. Dig out the mould one ſpade deep
in a long ſquare, of the ſhape of the intended
bed, and lay that away. Throw ſome of the
cinders into the trench, and ſpread them even
with a rake to cover the bottom about two
inches: then lay in the dung upon this bed of
cinders: take it up with a fork, and ſhake every
forkfull as it is taken from the heap. By this
ineans the longeſt ſtuff will come firſt; and the
ſhorteſt, which is the richeſt, will be left for the
laſt, to make the top of the bed. Spread the
litter even, as it is thrown into the trench, and
beat it down well at times with the back of a
{pade, to make the long ſtuff lie cloſe and com-
pact together. Raiſe the bed of dung in this
manner about a yard high, and ſpread the ſmall
ſtuff which comes laſt, and is almoſt all dung,
evenly upon the ſurface. COOL thiwt
Then bring on the mould from the heap laid
up for that purpoſe, and cover the dung five
inches deep
b5d
CHA P. II.
The Management of the PLANTS.
THE bed being thus finiſhed, the frame muſt
be put on, and covered with the glaſſes.
Thus let it lie four-and-twenty hours to ſettle,
5
and

[.11 I
a
]
and warm the mould: then lay the ſurface per-
fectly level, and ſcatter on the ſeeds moderately
thick: the Balſam, Amaranth, China-after, and
French-marygold, with the ſeveral other kinds,
may be all ſown together; for the ſame ma-
nagement will raiſe them: but it is beſt to di-
vide the bed into as many ſquares as there are
kinds, by drawing flight lines over it, and in
each ſquare to ſow one kind of feed.
When the ſeeds are all in the ground, ſome
of the ſame mould muſt be fifted carefully over
them, till they are covered a third part of an inch,
,
Some feeds require a little more depth than o-
thers; but this thickneſs in a hot-bed will an-
ſwer generally for all. The glaſſes muſt be rai-
ſed conſiderably in the day-time to let out the
fteam, and to let in freſh air, which is effential
to the ſeeds growing.well : in the night they
muſt be ſhut down; but not quite cloſe, unleſs
the weather be very ſevere indeed : and even in
that caſe they muſt be opened again in the
morning. The warmth and moiſture of the
mould will ſoon bring up the plants, and then
a new caution is required to preſerve them.
Where they have riſen very cloſe, ſome muſt
be pulled up. By this time the extreme heat
and ſteam of the bed will be abated : The glar-
ſes may be kept cloſe down all night; and there
will require only a moderate raiſing of them
for air in the warmeſt part of the day. Hot-
bed plants require a different management at
their various periods. In this ſtate they muſt be
kept pretty cloſe, for they are in no danger of
being
:
B 2

[ 121
being drawn up weak as yet ; and the ſeed-
leaves require but little air.
When the plants have a few days growth
they will be fit for renoving; and there muſt be
another hot-bed provided for them: this ſhould
be conſiderably larger than the firſt, becauſe the
plants muſt ſtand farther aſunder. Let the bed
be made up in the very fame manner, and let it
be covered, five inches and an half deep, with
the ſame fine mould as the firſt. Cover it with
the frame, and ſhut down the glaſs, and let it
ſtand three days, that this thickneſs of mould
may be thoroughly warmed.
Then in the beginning of the afternoon re-
move the plants. Open ſmall holes a finger's
length deep in the mould, at three inches and
a half diſtance every way from one another.
Take
up
the
young plants out of the firſt hot-
bed with the point of a trowel, and immedi-
ately ſet them in this, one plant in each hole.
Take care not to break the tender roots in tak-
ing them up; nor to double or cruſh them in
ſetting them in : bring the mould carefully about
them; and when they are all planted, give the
whole bed a very light and careful watering :
taking particular care not to beat down the
plants: then cloſe the glaſſes and leave them
for the night.
ABOUT nine o'clock the next morning raiſe
the glaſſes a little way; at noon cover them
with matts that the fun may not fcorch up the
leaves, and raiſe them a little higher ; toward
evening wipe the wet off the fides of the glaſſes,
that
a
3

[ az
that it may not fall back upon the plants, for it
is always injurious to them.
In this bed they muſt ſtand about three
weeks; and this muſt be their conſtant manage-
ment: the glaffes muſt be let down at night,
and kept up always a little in the middle of the
day. They muſt conſtantly be wiped before
they are ſhut down for the evening; and the
degree of opening during the day, muſt be
more or leſs according to the weather. The
plants muſt have as much of the free air as they
can bear without hurt, and the tender kinds
will ſoon fhew if there be too much allowed
them. If the mould grow dry, they muſt be
watered gently and carefully.
The heat of this bed will decline gently at
the end of about three weeks; and there ſhould,
at that time, be ſome freſh dung laid to the ſides
of it: for the plants are to be removed from this
hot-bed to another, and the mould of this muſt
therefore be kept in fome degree of warmth.
The plants having been ſown in the end of
February, will be by this time of ſome ſtrength;
the ſeaſon will alſo be growing toward ſummer:
another bed muſt be prepared for them about a
week after the dung is laid about the old one;
and this will keep them till they can bear the
air. This laſt hot-bed muſt be made in the
fame manner as the firſt, but with leſs dung and
more mould. It muſt be conſiderably larger
than the former, becauſe the plants will require
a much greater diſtance, and there muſt be a
depth of mould for the roots. The dung of
this

[ 14 ]
a
this bed ſhould be about two foot in height,
and the mould ſeven inches and a half deep.
WHEN it has ſtood covered one day and night,
open holes in it at ſeven inches diſtance, and lay
up the mould by the fide. Take up the plants
out of the former bed with large balls of earth
about the roots; and ſet them in this with a
great deal of care.
Sod
Draw the mould about
them, and give them a gentle watering. Cover
the glaſſes with mats, and raiſe them a little in
the middle of the day, but keep them cloſe at
all other times till the plants have taken perfect
root. Then let them be every day opened more
and more at noon, and left open longer. If
the plants be kept too cloſe, they will run up
weak, and be ill ſhaped. In this bed they muſt
ſtand till the latter end of May, and all that
time they muſt be watered frequently. The
glaffes muſt always be ſhut down at night; and
when the cold is ſevere, they muſt be covered
with mats. The more air is let into them in the
warm hours of the day the better.
TOWARD the end of May the hardier kinds
may be removed out of this hot-bed at once in-
to the borders of the garden ; chuſing the even-
ing of a mild day. Large holes muſt be opened
for them, and they muſt be planted with great
care. They muſt be taken up with a good ball
of mould, and when they are planted again they
muſt have careful waterings, from time to time;
till they are thoroughly well rooted in the ground.
The removal of theſe out of the hot-bed will
give more room to the tenderer kinds which re-
quire

[ 15 ]
quire to remain longer in it: theſe muſt be
thin'd where they are cloſeſt, taking up every
third or fourth plant ; and ſetting theſe imme-
diately again in the parts of the bed left vacant
by taking away the others. The new planted
ones muſt be watered frequently, and all the
reſt at leaſt once in the Day. The glaſſes muſt
be opened more and more every day, but the
top ſhaded with mats when the ſun ſhines upon
them. After this hot-bed has been made and
planted a fortnight, let ſome mowings of ſhort
graſs, or any like matter, be piled up round the
fides of the dung: this will bring on a new
warmth and fermentation, when that of the
dung begins to decline : and it will be enough
for keeping up the growth of the plants, yet ſo
moderate, that they will bear removing after-
wards out of the bed without danger.
When they have ſtood three weeks or fome-
what longer in this bed, another parcel of them
may be planted out into the borders. Chuſe
the hardieſt of thoſe which are now left; fo
that only the moſt tender and delicate kinds will
remain in the bed. Theſe muſt be taken up
with more care than ever ; becauſe being larger,
they will be apt to receive a greater check in the
removal : a large hole muſt be opened for each,
and the plant muſt be taken up with a great
ball of mould, and planted without injuring the
roots. They muſt be watered frequently after
this, till they are thoroughly ſettled in the new
ground: for if they get a check in their growth
at that time, they never make good plants after-
wards.

( 16
tvards. Frequent watering is the great article,
but the ſeaſon may be a great advantage. The
principal danger may be from the fun; there-
fore they muſt always be planted in an evening,
that they may have the night for ſtriking; and
if a cloudy time can be choſen, it is much the
better. The difference in this reſpect is ſo great,
that they ſhould be planted two or three days
fooner or later, according to this accident.
THERE will now remain in the bed only the
tendereſt kinds, and it will be time to get theſe
into pots. A fufficient number of fmall pots
muſt be provided, and they are to be filled with
mould from the firſt heap; the leavings of
which having been now ſo long expoſed to the
air, will be much richer than the reſt; and
very fit to receive them.
Take up the plants carefully one by one, and
ſet them immediately one in each of the pots.
This may be done in the bed by lifting up the
glaſſes. As each is planted, let the pot be fet
up to the very rim in the mould of the bed.
The beſt method is to begin by taking up the
plants which ſtand next one end, and then open-
ing holes along that end to let in the pots aś
they are done ; placing them cloſe to the wood
of the frame, and as cloſe to one another as
they can ſtand; and filling up the ſpace be-
tween them with mould. This is to be conti-
nued till all the plants are potted ; and if the
pots be of a moderate fize, they will in this
manner fill the bed: there will be yet warmth
enough in the dung to keep all in a due condi-
3
j
a
tion

tion for fome time; and as this dies off gradu-
ally, the plants will be the more fit for the
open air into which they are ſoon to be removed.
They muſt all be watered as ſoon as they are
potted. This is to be often repeated afterwards;
and they muſt be inured to the air. The glaſſes
muſt be ſet open a great part of the day, but
when the ſun is violent, they muſt be ſhaded
with mats. In this bed they muſt be kept till
.
the middle of July, defending them by the
glaſſes from the cold of the nights; and giving
them more and more air every day, till at length
the glaſſes are to be taken entirely off in the
middle of the day, when the weather is cloudy s
and at lait kept off entirely.
When the plants have borne this fome days,
they will be in a condition to remove into the
but this muſt yet be done with caution.
A warm and well-ſheltered ſpot in the rurſery
Thould be choſen for them, and the earth dug
away a ſpade depth. The pots muſt be brought
out in a warm cloudy day, and it will be beſt
of all if there be ſome rain. They muſt be ſent
up to the rim in this bed, and the mould laid
in cloſe among them. They muſt be watered
every day; and they ſhould ſtand thus a week.
Then the pots may be expoſed to the air by ſet-
ting them upon the ſurface of the ground; and
after this they may be ſet out in the places where
they are to flower.
They muſt be watered every day, and they
will now want no more care.
air ;
3
с
THIS

[ 18 ]
و
This is the method by which all annuals may
be raiſed to their greateſt perfection. Leſs care
is uſually taken, and therefore they ſucceed the
worfe : But this is not much. A little trouble
will ſerve a great many plants, and they will an-
ſwer it very well in their beauty.
Two things farther are neceſſary; 1. The care
of their flowering; and, 2. A proviſion for ſeeds.
Both are too much neglected in common prac-
tice. Let the beſt plants be marked for feed; and
let theſe be managed purpoſely for it. They
muſt only be ſuffered to open ten or a dozen
flowers : and when theſe are well fet for ſeed,
all the reſt that offer muſt be taken off in the
bud. Theſe plants muſt be watered very often,
but never a great deal at a time: and when the
ſeed is formed, and has got its due fize, they
muſt be ſet againſt a fouth wall where they
can ſtand quiet; and they muſt then have no
more waterings. When the feed is thoroughly
dry and hard, it muſt be gathered and kept for
the next ſpring. If this care be taken each year,
the ſtock will increaſe every ſeaſon in beauty.
THOSE plants, which are intended only for
bloom, muſt be treated in a contrary manner;
they muſt be watered largely once a day, and
no more: and all the flowers, as they begin to
fade, muſt be taken off with a pair of ſharp fcif-
fars. This keeps the root in vigour. For no-
thing exhauſts it like letting them ſet for feed :
and the taking off theſe before that time, will
produce more and more freſh bloom. When
the ſeaſon grows cooler, they muſt be removed
into

[ 19 1
into a place of thelter to keep them in blow as
long as that can be. When the froſt feizes the
mould they will decay : but they will thus be
preſerved longer than could be thought in beau-
ty, and will produce four times the quantity of
flowers that they would have done if managed
in the common manner.
There is nothing in this that a gentleman,
ever ſo much unuſed to gardening, may not di-
rect a common labourer to perform : and theſe
are the flowers which make the ſhew of autumn.
PERENNIALS a
SECTION II.
The Culture of BIENNIAL and PERENNIAL
bardy Plants.
ERENNIALS are ſuch plants as keep
alive in the root during winter, and when
once planted, are ſuppoſed to need little more
care: but they may be made to flower much
more elegantly with a little attention. The Bi-
ENNIALS periſh when they have flowered, tho'
they are two ſeaſons in coming to that ſtate.
The ſame culture ferves for both.
Of the hardy perennial kind we have named
the campanulas, hollyhocks, and ſeveral others.
The moth-mullien is a biennial.
The ſeeds of theſe will all ſhoot in the com-
mon ground; and they are all to be ſown in the
ſame manner. Therefore this ſecond culture
may all be delivered in as moderate a compaſs
as the firſt.
a
C 2
СНАР.

( 20 )
C
СНА Р. І.
Of preparing the GROUND end fowing the SEED.
HUSE out a piece of the nurſery that lies
a little flanting from north-weſt to the
ſouth-eaſt, and is very well defended from cold
winds. Let it be of the common mould of the
place; that is, of the ſame nature with that of
the garden, but not quite ſo rich. Turn it up in
ridges all winter, and in the beginning of March
Jay it all level ; let it be well dug and raked, and
then tread up a path along the middle, and di-
vide the ground on each ſide into beds four foot
and a half wide. The extent of this ſpot muſt
be proportioned to the garden ; but in this one
place, and with one and the ſame care and ma-
nagement, may be ſown and raiſed all the com-
mon hardy perennial and biennial plants.
In the middle of March let the feeds of the
ſeveral kinds before named, and of any others
that may be deſired, be ſown in this manner.
Chuſe one or more beds for each, according to
the quantity intended to be raiſed, and rake off
about half an inch of the ſurface; then in the
evening of a calm day fow them thus: Mix with
the feeds three times as much fine fifted and dry
mould; it will make them ſpread the more
evenly. Sow them by hand with this mould
pretty thick, and when the ſurface is regularly
covered with them, fift over them the mould
that was firſt raked off from the bed. This
will cover them a third of an inch, which will
be

[ 21 ]
a
a
3
21
be perfectly ſufficient. When the ſeeds are co-
vered, lay two or three pieces of black-thorn buſh
upon the bed to prevent accidents; and if in two
days there does not fall any natural ſhower, wa-
ter the ground. This muſt be done very gently,
and the pot ſhould have a fine pierced noſe with-
out flaws: for if the water run out in any part
in a ſtream, it will waſh the feeds out of the
ground wherever it falls. The buſhes need not
be removed for this watering.
All the ſeeds of the biennial and perennial
kind being fown and ſheltered in this manner.
The waterings muſt be repeated if the ſeaſon is
dry; and when the plants appear, the buſhes
ſhould be lifted off the ground. They will not
be wanted any more; they have kept off acci-
dental injuries, and mellowed the mould, and
this was all that was required.
When the plants have a little ſtrength, they
muſt be thinned, by pulling up ſuch as are
weakeſt, where they ſtand too cloſe; and they
muſt have water whenever they want ſhowers.
This muſt be managed with great care; for if
the plants are injured now, they do not well re-
cover it; and a heavy watering may bruiſe them,
or waſh them out of the ground. They ſhoot
up only leaves at preſent, for the ſtalk does not
appear till the next year: but the rudiment of it
is formed already; and if it be injured, the plant
will never be fine afterwards. As the plants grow
larger they muſt be thinned again, taking up al-
ways the worſt. The feed was ordered to be
ſown pretty thick for this purpoſe, that there
might be choice of the beſt to leave for growth.
Iz
3

[ 22 ]
a
If there be very ſharp winds when the plants
firſt come up, and the ground is not well defend-
ed by its natural ſituation, a reed-hedge ſhould
be ſet up to defend thoſe which are in moſt dan-
ger: and if hard froſts happen which break the
ground about the new-riſing plants, a little mould
muſt be fifted over to cover them again; remov-
ing it with a finger when it would bury the
heart of the plant.
Thus the danger of the early ſpring will be
got over, and all the reſt will come very eaſy.
The plants muſt be weeded carefully, and the
ſhowers of April will water them.
In the beginning of May they muſt be trans-
planted; and for this purpoſe a bed muſt be dug
up and levelled, much larger than the firſt. The
evening of a mild day ſhould be choſen for this
purpoſe; and if the weather be ſhowery ſo much
the better: the gardener may very well wait for
this opportunity, fince a few days ſooner or later,
will make no great difference.
Holes muſt be opened for them at different
diſtances, three, four, fix, or eight inches, accord-
ing to the bigneſs of the plants. The roots muſt
be taken up carefully, and immediately planted,
and the mould muſt be drawn cloſely about
them, and ſettled by a good watering.
DURING the ſummer the ground muſt be
weeded as often as any growth of that kind is ſeen
upon it. And ſome of theſe weedings may be
done by hand, but one or two ſhould be with a
trowel, breaking up all the ground between the
plants at the ſame time that the weeds are de-
ſtroyed.
IF
a
a

[ 23 ]
If any of the plants ſend up ſtalks this firſt
lummer, they muſt be cut down cloſe to the
ground, for it is not their flowering ſeaſon, and
they will be weak and poor. The roots are to
ſtrengthen themſelves in the ground this ſeaſon,
and nothing more is required of them.
In the beginning of October, let more ground
be dug up for them, and let them be there plant-
ed at a greater diſtance. About twice the num-
ber of beds the plants already occupy, will be
needful for this ſervice: the ground muſt be
dug up a full ſpade deep, and holes opened for
the reception of the plants at double the diſtance
of thoſe in the former bed. An evening of a
mild day ſhould be choſen for the bufineſs, and
the plants carefully taken up, each with a ball
of earth. The extreme fibres muſt be trimmed
when they are brought to the new ground, and
they muft be directly ſet in, and the mould cloſed
about them.
Give them a flight watering that evening, and
a large one the following morning: take off the
large outſide decaying leaves, and the reſt will
thrive the better. When the weather comes on
ſevere, lay more thorn-buſhes lightly upon the
beds, taking care not to cruſh down or wound
the plants; and in the depth of winter, when
there are hard froſts without any ſnow, ſpread
ſome pea-ſtraw over the thorn-buſhes ; taking it
off again when the weather is any thing milder.
m
CHAP

( 241
EA
j
CHA P. II.
The Management of PERENNIALS
ARLY the ſucceeding ſpring make a
draught
of the ſeveral kinds of theſe out
of the nurſery-beds for the immediate ſervice of
the garden ; for the greateſt part of them will
flower this ſummer. In all quantities of flow-
ers raiſed from feed, there will be fome better
and ſome worſe, and no art can diſcover which
will be good or bad, till the time of flowering
is come: therefore for this firſt year the garden
muſt ſtand its chance for good or bad ; but in the
following ſeaſons it will be ſupplied with certainty.
The middle of February is the beſt time for
making this plantation, for if it be delayed long-
er they will flower very poorly. With tolerable
care there will be no fear of loſing the roots when
they are put in thus early. Let a mild day be
choſen; and if the ſeaſon be very ſevere, let it
be delayed till the extreme froſt breaks : then
mark the places in the garden where theſe plants
are to ſtand, and open a hole for each a full fpade
deep; and a foot wide. Take up as many plants
as are wanted out of the nurſery-bed; bring as
much of their own earth with them as can be
done conveniently; and ſet them upright in the
holes with the head of the root a little below the
level of the ſurface of the border: cloſe the earth
well to them, and ſink a ſmall hollow about the
head of the root. The ridge of earth round it
will keep off the bleak winds; and if the weather
Ahould
ވެ
a

[ 25 ]
a
ſhould again ſet in ſevere, there may be a little
bundle of dry pea-ftraw laid over each plant.
The morning after the planting every one
muſt have a moderate watering. At the time of
planting there muſt be ſome given, but that muſt
be very little. Theſe plants will require after-
wards no other care than is taken of every thing
elſe in the borders, and they will flower ſtrong
and well.
The great article is the care of thoſe in the
nurſery, for the principal expectation is there.
The beds muſt be kept weeded; and in very dry
weather the plants muſt be watered. They will
flower at their natural time, and the gardener will
then know the value of the roots.
No plant ſhould be ſuffered to blow more
than four or five flowers this firſt ſeafon : this
will be enough to ſhew their excellence, and they
ſhould then be cut down cloſe to the ground for
ſtrengthening the roots. As they come into flow-
er, the fineſt ſhould be marked by thruſting a ſtick
into the ground near the root; and ſuch as are very
poor ſhould be pulled up and thrown away.
In the beginning of October thoſe roots which
are marked for having borne fine flowers, ſhould
be taken up and brought into the garden. Large
holes muſt be opened for theſe ; and they muſt
be taken up with balls of earth, and planted care-
fully. The ſucceeding year they will flower in
their moſt perfect beauty, and the roots will
have their full ſtrength.
It is this year alſo that the plants ripen the
moſt perfect feeds, therefore the very fineſt ſhould
D
be

[ 25 ]
ز
a
ز
Le marked for that purpoſe. The ripening of
their feeds will weaken the roots, but it is reed-
ful for a ſupply; and thoſe which have been
uſed for this purpoſe ſhould be taken up, and
others planted for the next year in their place.
Those plants which are marked for feed
muſt not waſte the ſtrength of the root by too
much blowing; a few flowers will afford a ſuf-
ficient quantity of ſeed, and it will be much
better, than when the plant is loaded.
THESE muſt be well watered while the feed
is growing to its bigneſs; and after that they
inuſt have very little; and for the laſt days none.
When the huſks are quite dry, the plant
ſhould be cut up, and laid entire on a ſhelf in
an airy room to harden. After a day or two the
ſeed- veſſels muſt be taken off and laid ſeparate
to dry a week : then the ſeeds ſhould be ſhook
out; and theſe ſhould again lie about ten days.
Thus they will be perfectly cured ; and they
ſhould then be put up for winter. The fol-
lowing ſpring they ſhould be ſown exactly in
the manner before directed; and this ſhould
be the courſe from year to year.
The old roots will flower very well two ſea-
fons more, but not equal to the firſt bloom ;
and much leſs to ſuch as ſhall be produced
from the feeds of theſe. With the management
here directed, the ſtock will be every year im-
proving; and a very ſmall piece in the nurſery
will ſupply theſe articles to the garden.
CH A P.

[ 27.
a
CH A P. III.
The Management of BIENNIAL PLANTS.
TH
HESE agree ſo entirely with the peren-
nial in all reſpects, excepting only their du-
ration, that the ſame management exactly ſerves
them, all but in the laſt tranſplantation. They
are to be raiſed as the others by feed ſown in
ſpring; and they are to be in the ſame manner
tranſplanted out of the feed-bed into a ſecond
piece of nurſery-ground; but they ſhould be
brought in time into the garden. If theſe plants
be kept all the ſummer in the nurſery-bed into
which they were tranſplanted from the feed-bed,
they will many of them flower in the nurſery,
which is not intended; for they are not ſtrong
the firſt year, nor is the nurſery a place for the
flowering of thoſe plants whoſe roots perilh. To
prevent this there requires one tranſplantation
more the firſt year for theſe than for perennials.
WHEN they have been raiſed in the ſame
manner with thoſe, and in the fame manner
tranſplanted out of the ſeed-bed into another
part of the nurſery, they muſt not be ſuffered to
ſtand there till autumn, but brought into the
garden during the forepart of ſummer. They
will naturally be removed out of the feed-bed in
May; and when they have ſtood about five
weeks in the new ground, it will be proper to
take them into the garden. This muſt be done
with care; and it will ſecure their continuing
without a ſtalk till the next year. Toward the
latter end of June let a cloudy day be choſen,
and
D 2

[ 28 ]
a
and open, in the borders of the garden, as many
holes as there are plants. Take them carefully
up with a good ball of earth to the root, and
fix the new mould well about them. Give
them a good watering; and repeat it every day :
they will ſtrengthen themſelves by this means
during the ſummer and the winter following:
and having had eighteen months growth before
they flower, they will blow in the greateſt per-
fection. Few who are not accuſtomed to the
arts of culture, can imagine the advantage of
this method: I had the good fortune to ſee it two
years ago in a very remarkable manner in the caſe
of the common mothmullien in a garden near
London.
This is a wild plant in ſome parts of Eng-
land, and produces under the hedges a long ſpike
of handſome yellow flowers; but in the way I
faw it raiſed, it exceeded in beauty all the kinds
we bring from abroad. Nature fows this plant
in autumn, and it flowers the ſucceeding ſum-
mer: the flowers ripen in July, and the ſeeds in
Auguſt: theſe falling out as ſoon as the huſks
are dry, fow themſelves in September, and the
young plants appear in October, which flower
the following July. Here is only a growth of
nine months, from the firſt ſhoot to the flower-
ing. But according to the method here propo-
fed, we give the garden plants of the fame
kind eighteen months; this is twice the time :
the root has twice the ſtrength, and the plant
flowers with double beauty. The gentleman in
whoſe garden I ſaw this plant in the ſummer
of

[ 29 ]
a
of the year 1756, fowed it in the ſpring of
1755; the feeds were gathered from a wild
plant the autumn before : they were fown in
March, tranſplanted in May, and removed into
the flower-garden about the middle of June;
they flowered the July of the ſucceeding year.
The flowers were as big as a crown-piece, and
of a yellow that exceeded the ranunculus. Every
body admired the plant till they heard it was an
Engliſh weed: and probably the ſeeds of theſe
fine plants will raiſe a yet more beautiful progeny.
SECTION III.
The Culture by SUCKERS, LAyers, and
CUTTINGS.
NO
TOTHING could be more natural than that
part of gardening which multiplies flower-
ing ſhrubs by the ſuckers that riſe near their
roots : nature indeed makes the increaſe unaf-
fifted; the gardener only removes the new plant
to another place. This was the firſt way of
propagation introduced into our Shrubberies;
and from this came the other two. Where
ſhrubs did not afford fuckers, it was natural to
try whether a branch buried in part in the
ground, would not take root in time, and ſerve
as a ſucker : This was tried, and it ſucceeded ;
and thus came in the method by layers. Long
after this Lauremberg propoſed the way by cut-
tings. People thought him mad for ſaying a
piece of twig ſtuck into the ground would grow;
but they found it true on trial; and it is by far
the

[ 30 ]
the moſt uſeful method of all. As it is not uni-
verſal, the others muſt on ſome occaſions be ſtill
employed. We ſhall therefore propoſe them
in their natural order.
CH A P. I.
Of Propagation by SUCKERS.
M
ANY of our flowering ſhrubs, and other
kinds, ſend out a number of young ſhoots
from the root, which would make, as it were,
a little thicket about them. Theſe are a defor-
mity to the original tree, and they ſuck in that
nouriſhment which ſhould go to feed its flowers
and foliage. Therefore they ought to be cleared
away, though they were not wanted: but they
are every one capable of growing into a new
ſhrub.
The beſt time of propagating ſhrubs this way,
is the middle of October. Suppoſe there is an
old lilac in the garden, and that it is ſurround-
ed, as is naturally the caſe, with fuckers, in Oc-
tober dig up a ſmall piece of ground in the nur-
ſery, and open with a ſpade large holes at two
foot diſtance every way, laying up the mould at
the ſide of each hole. Then in the evening of
a mild day take up all the fuckers from the old
piant, and chuſe as many of the fineſt as are
deſired to be raiſed. The beſt are thoſe which
are ſtraiteſt and thickeſt in proportion to their
heighth; and ſuch as have grown fartheſt from
the ſtem of the tree : cut off the ends of the
roots, and plant one in every hole, firſt throw-
4
ing

( 31 )
a
a
a
ing in a little of the looſe mould from the fide
to make a good bottom. Drive in a fence-ſtake
pretty cloſe to each, and let it ſtand a foot and
half out of the ground. Plant the fucker juſt
as deep as it was naturally where it roſe from
the old root, and tie it to the ſtake in two places
with ſome ſoft matting.
Thus plant the whole number intended, and
then give them all a thorough watering. Re-
peat this every other day for a week, and they
may then be left to nature. They will ſtrike root
during the remainder of the autumn, and will be
found full of life in the following ſpring. All
the care they will require farther is, to keep the
ground weeded between them, and in very dry
ſeaſons to give them ſome water. They ſhould
ſtand three years in this bed, and they will then
be fit to plant in the garden. To this purpoſe
they muſt be taken up at the ſame ſeaſon, that
is, late in autumn; the fibres trimmed all about
the roots, and in planting the mould muſt be
well ſettled round them by careful laying in,
and by a good watering. A ſtake ſhould be al-
ſo thruſt into the ground to tie them up; and if
the weather be ſevere, the firſt winter ſome dry
peas-ſtraw ſhould be laid about the roots; and
kept down by pegs. This is the whole culture
by ſuckers; and thus very fine plants may be ob-
tained from many kinds of our thrubs; but not
from all: therefore other methods are alſo ne-
ceſſary.
CHAP

[ 32 ]
a
CH A P. II.
Of propagating Shrubs by LAYERS.
WHEN thrubs do not yield fuckers, and
will not take by cuttings, recourſe muſt be
had to laying. This may either be done from
the branches of thoſe ſhrubs which are kept for
flowering, or from ſuch as are planted for that
purpoſe only; and are called ſtools.
This latter is the practice of nurſeries where
great numbers are to be raiſed for ſale : the
other is more the purpoſe in a gentleman's gar-
den.
There are two ſeaſons for this work, the be-
ginning of autumn, and early in the ſpring: the
firſt is beſt for hardy trees, and particularly for
thoſe which hold their leaves all winter; the
latter for the generality of the other kinds.
If the gardener has any of the more elegant
flowering ſhrubs, which he intends to increaſe,
the beſt method is by layers: and it ſhould be
done in this manner. Chuſe out ſome of the
branches which grow near the ground, or ſuch
as can be bent down to it with the leaſt vio-
lence; and which have ſuch a length that they
can bear to be in part buried five or fix inches
deep, and have a piece of half a foot in length
a
left above the ground at the end. Draw theſe
down in the manner they will come moft natu-
rally to the ground, and make a mark along the
part at which each lies; mark alſo the part of
the branch that will be under ground in the
laying

[ 33
laying. Then open as many trenches as there
are branches to be laid, carrying them ſtraight
along where the marks were made; and open-
ing each a full fpade deep: let the mould be
very rich ; and well broke in the working Let
the trench be five inches deep all the way. Give
each branch a flight twiſt in the middle of the
place where it is to be under the mould. This
muſt be done in fo careful a manner, as juſt to
crack the rind, and no more. Then with a
ſharp penknife flit the branch thro’in the ſame
place for an inch and half in length. Cut ſome
hooked
pegs
to keep it down. Bring down each
branch in a careful manner till it touches the
bottom of the trench opened for it; and peg it
faſt in that place with one, two, or more of
the
pegs, according to the danger there is of its
getting up by the ſpring of the wood: then co-
ver in the mould, preffing it moderately cloſe
about the branch with the hand; and to finiſh
all give it a gentle watering. The next day wa-
ter it ſomewhat more largely; and after this
give it only the common care of the other plants.
The end of the layer that is left out of the
ground, will fhew whether it continues in health;
and all that is required more, is keeping the place
well covered with mould; and in the dry time
of the ſucceeding ſummer watering the ground
at times : in the winter there will be very little
need of this.
ONE year will ſerve in general for the giving
them good roots. If the branches have been laid
in autumn, they may be taken off from the old
E
tree

[ 34 ]
tree the autumn following; and planted in a
nurſery-bed if they be flow growers; or if not,
they may be at once ſet in the garden where
they are to remain. Roſes laid one autumn,
and the layers taken up the next, will flower the
fucceeding ſummer ; and ſo it is in many other
kinds: but according to their natural flower
growth others require more time.
If layers be defired from ſome curious ſhrub
which has no branches near the ground, the me-
thod is this: Fix upon one or more of the
branches for laying, and by pulling them gently
down with the hand, obſerve how far they will
naturally yield; then ſet up a treſſel under each
branch, and place upon it a trough of wood a
foot deep, filled with very fine mould. Let
the trefſel raiſe this ſo high, that the branch
can eaſily be brought down to it; and raiſe as
many of thefe as there are branches intended
to be laid. Then twiſt and flit every branch as
before directed; and lay it down in the trough ſo
that it may be covered five inches with mould,
and leave a piece of a foot long ſtanding out.
Faften this down with ſticks thruſt acroſs the
trough, and cover the branch with mould.
This muſt be watered more regularly and
carefully than layers in the open ground, becauſe
the ſmall quantity of mould in the box would
otherwiſe quickly dry. The ſucceſs of the whole
depends upon keeping the earth moiſt: if it
ſhould be ſuffered to grow dry, even after the
layer had ſhot roots, they would wither. If the
care of watering be obſerved regularly, theſe
layers

[ 35 ]
layers will ſucceed as well as thoſe in the com-
mon ground; and at the end of one year they
may be cut off from the old ſhrub, and planted
in pots, or in the open ground, according to
their kinds. This method extends the pro-
.
pagation by layers to almoſt all kinds of ſhrubs
and trees; and when it is well managed, it
will always ſucceed.
CHA P. III.
The Method of propagating by CUTTINGS.
T!
HE benefit of the method by layers is very
plain, but the operation is tedious and
troubleſome. This has introduced the ſhort and
eaſy practice of raiſing ſhrubs from cuttings :
and wherever it will ſucceed, it is greatly pre-
ferable to that by layers; becauſe leſs time and
trouble are required, and a much greater number
may be raiſed this way than can the other.
Not only ſhrubs and trees, but all plants
which have woody ſtalks, may be propagated
by this method. It may be done almoſt at any
ſeaſon of the year; but the beſt time is in May
and June, that the cuttings may take root fo as
to be fit for removing before winter. There are
few kinds which, being managed with care, will
not fucceed in this manner. All cuttings re-
quire ſhade and water; and the more tender
they are, the more perfectly they muſt be ſhel-
tered. For the common kinds a ſmall bed in
the nurſery, hooped over and covered with can-
vas, will anſwer very well. The more delicate
will require to be covered with hand-glaffes, or
E 2
to

[ 36
to have the aſſiſtance of a hot-bed. Thoſe
which will not ſtrike by one of theſe ways,
uſually will by another; and there are very few
that will not one way or other ſucceed.
In the middle of June let a piece of the nur-
ſery ground be dug up very well, and make a
bed of three foot broad, and of ſuch length as
may hold the proper number of plants : have
ſome hoops ready to place over the bed, and a
piece of canvas to cover them: it muſt be ſo
large as to cover the hoops entirely, and to fall
over to the ground at each end. Then take
cuttings from all the ſhrubs and plants intended
to be propagated, in this manner : Chuſe the
ſtraiteſt, eveneſt, and moſt vigorous young
ſhoots of the ſeveral kinds, and cut them off
about ſeven inches long. Clip off the leaves
from the lower part of each, and twiſt the bot-
tom of the ſhoot : then with a fine awl pierce
the bottom of the ſtalk thro' in ſeveral places
up to an inch and half in height.
PLANT thele two inches and an half deep in
the mould of the bed, at a ſmall diſtance from
one another; and continue till the whole num-
ber intended are in the ground: cloſe the mould
very well about them, and give them a good
watering. Plant the hoops over the bed, and
lay the canvas upon them ; covering them en-
tirely: thus let them ſtand the first night. In
the morning lift up the canvas at one end, and
along the fides, a little way from the ground, and
keep it raiſed by bricks or pegs, that the plants
may have ſome air but no ſun. In the evening
.

( 37 )
lift off the canvas, and give them another wa-
tering
This practice is to be continued ; only giving
them more and more air from time to time,
till they have taken root. The mould muft
never be ſuffered to dry about them, nor muſt
they be expoſed to the ſun, but the more air
they have, after ſome days, the better. In this
manner they will take root in fix, eight, or ten
weeks, according to their kinds : and then the
greateſt hazard is over : but they muſt ſtill be
ſhaded from the fun in the middle of the day,
and watered frequently. In the beginning of
September they muſt be tranſplanted, and they
muſt then be removed according to their diffe-
rent degrees of tenderneſs or hardineſs, into pots,
or at once into the open ground: or by a milder
courſe into warm nurſery-beds that will raiſe
them to more ſtrength. It will be beſt to be-
gin with the moſt tender. Theſe muſt be pot-
ted: and for this purpoſe as many ſmall pots
muſt be prepared as there are of thoſe plants,
and filled with mould. The cuttings muſt be
taken up one by one, and great care muſt be
taken to take up a good ball of earth with each.
They muſt be planted upright, one in each pot;
the mould muſt be carefully cloſed about them,
and they muſt be ſet in a warm ſheltered place,
and ſhaded from the ſun by a canvas, or other
contrivance. Here they muſt ſtand the winter ;
and as ſpring advances, they muſt be taken out
of theſe pots, with the whole ball of earth, and
planted in larger. The method is this : Have a
fet
2

[ 38 ]
ſet of larger pots ready, with a heap of good
mould; put a little of the mould into the bot-
tom of one of the pots, and ſhake out the whole
ball of earth in one of the ſmall pots; trim the
fibres round the ſurface, ſet the ball upright in
the larger pot, and fill in the reſt with more of
the mould. Change the pots of all the plants
in this manner, and ſet them in the ſame place:
fhade them from the ſun in the middle of the
day, and water them conſtantly every evening.
After this they will be foon eſtabliſhed into good
healthy plants.
This is the whole management of the tender
kinds, which are kept in pots always, as Gera-
niums, and the like. A ſecond ſort are ſuch as
require ſhelter while young, but will bear the
open air when grown up to fome ſtrength. Of
this kind are the Ciftus, called the Rock-roſe,
and the like. Theſe ſhould next be taken out
of the bed, and they muſt be managed juſt as
the former fet; only that in the ſucceeding
ſpring, when the others are put into larger
pots to be kept for good; theſe are to be planted
out into the borders. They muſt be taken out
of the pots with the entire ball of earth, and
planted upright with care; faſtening the ftem
to a ſmall ſtake thruſt into the ground to keep
it ſteady. They muſt be well watered till they
have taken root, and they will then need no
more care, but will grow up into good ſhrubs.
THE third kind, which are hardier than theſe,
but not abſolutely ſuited to our foil as natives,
Thould be next taken up and removed into a
nurſery-

[ 39 1
nurſery-bed. Of this kind may be reckoned
the hardy ſhrub St. Peter's-wort, and ſome o-
thers. When the plants of the two former
claffes are removed out of the firſt bed, a place
muſt be prepared for theſe : they need not have
pots; but only require a good fpot of open
ground. Look out a ſhady and perfectly well
ſheltered part of the nurſery, and dig up a bed
a full ſpade deep, breaking the mould very fine.
Open holes in this at five inches diſtance every
way; then take up the plants each with a ball
to its root: place one in every hole ; and keep
them perfectly well watered till they are eſta-
bliſhed in the new ground: then leave them to
nature. Only if the winter ſhould prove ex-
tremely ſevere, ſhelter them a little in the worſt
weather.
In ſpring take them up with large balls of
earth to the roots, and plant them in the gar-
den in the places where they are to remain, wa-
tering them conſtantly till they are new rooted.
LAST of all take up the plants of the fourth
or hardieſt kind, and plant them at once in the
borders. The Althæa Frutex, and fome others,
are of this kind. Let holes be opened in the
borders where they are to ſtand; take them up
one by one with good balls to the roots, and
plant them in theſe openings: water them every
day till they have taken root, and they will ſuc-
ceed without farther care.
HERE is a plain and eaſy method by ich
a garden may be ſtocked with all the kinds of
flowering thrubs almoſt without expence. Cut-
tings
a

[ 40 ]
tings may be had from any garden ; and one
bed raiſes them all: they are all to be tran-
ſplanted from thence at one time; and the ſame
method of culture afterwards raiſes them to
perfection. Thus eafy is gardening when the
principles are once perfectly underſtood.
SECTION IV.
The Culture of the choiceſ FLOWERS.
AST of all we are come to the manage
LA
ment of the moſt elegant productions of the
gardener's art: Theſe depend for their excel-
lency upon the ſame principles of culture, tho'
more time and care are required in raiſing them,
than the other kinds: And it has appeared moſt
proper to treat of them laſt, becauſe they will
beſt be underſtood after the others.
The common gardener is content to raiſe
theſe flowers from off-fets, or from parted
roots; but this deprives him of all poſſible
means of improvement. There requires time
in the raiſing them from ſeed: but the trouble
is very little ; and this is the way by which
new kinds are obtained. We propoſe taking
off a great deal of the trouble of gardening, and
yet directing the reader to the full knowledge
of the art.
We ſhall therefore give the plain
method of raiſing theſe elegant kinds from
feed, and bringing them to their higheſt per-
fection: and this method is ſo far the ſame for
all the ſeveral kinds, that one care, and one
piece

[ 41 ]
piece of ground, may ſerve for the whole cola
lection.
The flowers of this kind may be reduced
into two claſſes; I. the fibrous, or tuberous 3
and 2. the bulbous rooted. The firſt kind.com
prehends Auricula's, Ranunculus's, Anemones,
and the like: the latter Tulips, Hyacinths, and
thoſe others which have graffy leaves. The
culture of each of theſe flowers is delivered fe-
parate by thoſe who have written on this ſub-
ject hitherto ; and a different kind of mould is
directed for the reception of each feed; but I
have found that one kind of earth ſerves them
all, and one method of culture.
a
و
CH A P. I.
Of fowing choice FLOWERS.
PRE
REPARE the mould for theſe flowers
thus. Pare off the turff in a dry piece of
rich paſture ground, and dig up the mould as
deep as it goes; this is uſually one full ſpade's
depth : take care to go no deeper, and not to
mix any of the bottom with it. In the begin-
ning of March dig up five loads of this ; mix
with it three loads of river mud, one load of
old cow-dung, and the ſame quantity of rotten
mould dug up where an old faggot-pile has
ſtood. Sprinkle over this four buſhels of flack-
ed lime, and a pale-full of brine made of a
peck of falt.
F
THE

[ 42
The quantity may be larger or ſmaller, ao
cording to the number of plants intended to be
raiſed; but this is the beſt proportion : let it
be all well work'd together, and thrown thro'
a coarſe ſkreen; and thus let it lie till May:
then turn it very thoroughly again: it will alſo
require another turning in July; and this will
compleat it for ſervice.
PROCURE feeds from ſome perſon on whom
you can depend; they muſt be ſaved from the
fineſt flowers that ripen any, for ſome of the
very fineſt do not; and laid carefully to harden.
Each parcel muſt be put up ſeparate, and laid
by till the latter end of July.
THEN chufe a part of the nurſery which is
open to the ſouth-eaſt, and ſkreened from all
other quarters: dig away the mould, make up
beds with that which has been all this time pre-
paring for that purpoſe, and mark them num-
ber 1, 2, 3, and ſo on. Each muſt be a yard
wide, four inches deep in mould, and laid a little
rounded. When theſe are all ready begin fow-
ing. Rake off an inch of mould from the ſur-
face of the firſt bed; mix fome of it with the
ſeed intended to be fowed, and ſcatter it on
evenly in the evening of a mild day. From
the ſeventh to the ſeventeenth of Auguſt is the
beſt period for this ſervice. Sift on as much of
the mould that was raked off, as will cover the
ſeeds a third part of an inch, and lay a piece
of thorn-buſh upon the bed. Thus far it is
the ſame with the method of raiſing the com-
mon perennial plants. It was before obſerved,
that

[ 43 ]
care.
that the difference is only in point of time and
Sow every ſeed in this manner, and fi-
niſh all the beds.
The ſeeds of theſe choice flowers are uſually
ſown in pots and boxes; and the common wri-
ters on gardening give that direction. I have
tried both, and find the open ground is beſt.
The earth drys too fait in theſe ſmall parcels;
and the ſeeds grow better when they have the
vapours from the open ground.
Once in three days water the beds in this
manner: Lift off the buſhes, and lay a piece of
old matting over the bed. Water upon this
lightly and carefully, and when the wet has got
through lift it off, and ſo water the next. The
ground will thus be moiſtened without diſturb-
ing the ſeeds. If gentle ſhowers fall naturally,
theſe waterings may be omitted ; but if heavy
rains come on, ſome mats or cloths muſt be
laid over the beds upon the thorn-buſhes, to
keep off the violent force of the drops.
A VERY ſmall piece of ground will anſwer
for this, and therefore the care is eaſy. Wrie
ters direct a different time for ſowing the ſeve-
ral kinds, but this ſeaſon with this method ſuits
them all.
The young plants will appear at various
times, but the dangers to which they are ex-
poſed are the ſame, and one kind of protection
is required for them. No weed muſt be fuf-
fered to grow upon any of the beds. When
the plants riſe very cloſe, fome may be pulled
up and planted in a more vacant place. When
rains
F 2

[ 44 ]
rains fall heavy, mats muſt be laid over the
thorn-buſhes; and as the froſts come on, the
ſame care muſt be uſed to guard againſt them.
In ſevere weather the beds muſt be kept co-
vered up entirely; but when it is milder, they
muſt have the free air of the middle of the day.
Towards ſpring a reed-hedge muſt be ſet up to
the north-eaſt of the beds to keep off the nip-
ping winds from that quarter. Thus they will
be kept till the beginning of the ſpring; and
they muſt then be gently watered at times; and
if the noon-day fun appear to have too much
power, they muſt be ſhaded from it.
Thus all the kinds will be kept in good con-
dition till about June the next year; and at that
time the Auricula's and Polyanthus's which re-
tain their leaves, muſt be tranſplanted. Ano-
ther bed like the firſt muſt be prepared for
them, and they muſt be ſet at four inches di-
ſtance one from another. They muſt be wa-
tered carefully, and ſhaded till they have taken
root. After this no more is required than to
keep the ground clear from weeds; and thus
they will be gathering ſtrength till the next
year.
THESE being removed, the other beds muſt
be examined. The leaves of the young Ane-
mones, and the reft, will now be decayed; they
muſt be clipp'd off, and the ſurface of the bed
laid ſmooth, and a little of the fame mould
fifted over the whole: about a third of an inch
in thickneſs. Thus they muſt remain till au-
tumn, keeping the ſurface clear from weeds. At
the
ز

( 45 )
the beginning of October fift another new coat
of mould over them, of the ſame thickneſs with
the former, and take the ſame care of the beds
this as the former winter: only as the plants
are ſtronger, it need not be ſo ftrict, The
plants which have been removed into the nur-
ſery-beds muſt alſo be ſheltered during ſevere
weather in the depth of winter, and the ſurface
of all the beds muſt be kept clean from moſs.
Thus far the culture of all theſe plants is the
fame : but as ſome of them are afterwards to
be taken up at certain ſeaſons, and treated in a
manner different from thoſe whoſe leaves re-
main all the year, it will be proper to conſider
their management in the reſt of their growth,
under the three diſtinct heads of the fibrous,
tuberous rooted, and bulbous plants: for ac-
cording to this diſtinction of the roots, the ma-
nagement of them varies in the ſucceeding time,
CHA P. II.
The Management of FIBROUS-ROOTED choice
FLOWERS.
OF
F this kind are the Auricula and Polyan-
thous Primroſe, with the like: the root
conſiſts of fibres, and therefore does not admit
of being kept any time out of the ground. On
this depends the particular management of
theſe plants.
The raiſing all the kinds from ſeed being
alike, that has been directed already. What
6.
we

[ 46 ]
we here call their farther management, regards
their flowering. The Auricula being the moſt
excellent of theſe, its culture may ſerve as a di-
rection for all the reſt : the principal difference
between this and the Polyanthus, is, that the
Auricula is kept in a pot, and the other in the
open ground.
THE Auricula feed has been fown in Au-
guſt, the young plants have been removed in
the June following, and are now, we ſuppoſe,
in the nurſery-bed into which they were ſet
at that time. They are to remain there till the
following ſpring, and the greater part of them
will then flower. They will not blow fine, be-
cauſe they ſtand cloſe; but it will be eaſy to
ſee which will make another year the beſt
flowers.
The plants, in this nurſery-bed, may now be
diſtinguiſhed into three kinds; 1. Thoſe which
have good flowers; 2. Thoſe which have ordi-
nary and indifferent ones; and, 3. Thoſe which
yet ſhew no bloom. Many of theſe laſt will
prove the fineſt of all. Mark the ſeveral forts
with three kinds of ſticks, and thus let the bed
remain till the middle of July; then manage
the plants according to their value. Firſt take
up all thoſe which have borne ordinary flowers,
and plant them out in the borders of the gar-
den. Then prepare as many pots as there are
plants which have borne fine flowers, and take
theſe plants up carefully with a ball of their
own earth: plant them in pots of the fame
mould, and give them a gentle watering. The
plants

[ 47
plants which have not yet flowered, may now
be left in the bed without removing : they will
ſtand the more free and clear for this taking
away of the others; and they will gather great
ſtrength the ſucceeding ſpring,
The beds muſt be kept clear from weeds,
and the mould ſometimes broke between the
plants: if the autumn prove very dry, they
muſt at times be watered ; and a mat may be
drawn over them in the ſeverity of winter.
The plants in the borders require only the
common care of every thing elſe that is in the
fame place ; but thoſe which are potted muſt
be managed more delicately. Set the pots un-
der the ſhelter of a wall, or building defended
from the north; and let there be a ſhed car-
ried over them to keep off rain and too much
fun. Here let them ſtand all winter. In the
middle of February bring in a quantity of the
ſame mould, pare off the ſurface of the earth
in all the pots an inch deep, and fill up the
place with this, giving them now and then
gentle waterings. If the froſt be ſevere after
this, there muſt be a canvas drawn from the
edge of the ſhed to the ground, in front and at
both ends. This muſt be let down in an even-
ing, and taken up two hours after ſun-riſe.
Thus they will be preſerved in the bud, and
they will flower in perfection. When they
blow they ſhould be removed to a ſtage of
ſhelves one above another, and open to the
ſouth-eaſt.
SOME
a

[ 48
SOME will now appear leſs valuable than was
expected; and let theſe be put into the borders
of the garden. Others will be much finer:
Theſe laſt muſt be marked for increaſe. Seed
muſt be ſaved from them for another ſowing;
and the off-ſets carefully removed and planted
in other pots, where they will make ſo many
good plants. The time for taking theſe off is
the beginning of April, and they muſt be ma-
naged juſt as the others.
The roots left in the nurſery-bed will now
flower, and the beſt muſt be marked. Theſe
muſt be put into pots the July following, and
the others planted in the borders of the garden.
This is the whole culture of the Auricula : and
thus all the fibrous-rooted choice flowers are to
be propagated.
CHA P. III.
The Management of TUBEROUS-ROOTED
FLOWERS.
HE Anemone, Ranunculus, and fome
other kinds, have roots of a thick folid
fubſtance, and irregular ſhape, nouriſhed by
fibres. Theſe are called tuberous roots. They
contain the rudiment of the plant which is to
flower the next year; and they have ſo much
ſubſtance to defend it, that they may be ſafely
taken up after the flowering ſeaſon in ſpring :
and kept in a dry place till autumn. This gives
an

[ 49 ]
an advantage to the flowers; and on this de-
pends their particular management.
WWE ſhall here take the Anemone for an in-
•ſtance. The feeds were fown in Auguſt with
the others; the young plants took their growth
together the firſt ſpring, and they have been
refreſhed and ſheltered by a new coat of mould
in ſummer, and by a ſecond in autumn. There
we left them, and we are now to purſue their
particular management. They muſt have ſome
ihelter if the winter be ſevere, and in ſpring they
will fhew themſelves above ground in larger
and much ſtronger leaves than the firſt.
DEFEND them well from the north and eaſt;
give them gentle waterings, and many of them
will flower. Mark the roots into three kinds,
as the Auricula's: 1. Thoſe which promiſe
fine flowers; 2. Thoſe which ſeem indifferent;
and, 3. Thoſe which have not flowered.
When the bloom is over, the leaves will
foon decay. Toward the end of May they will
be in a manner gone : then look over the bed,
firſt taking up thoſe roots which were marked
for fine flowers : clip off the remains of the
ſtalk and leaves, and waſh off the mould, and
ſpread them upon a piece of canvas ſtretched
above the ground in an airy room, where there
is no fun,
Next take up the roots of the more indif-
ferent flowers, and clean and dry them in the
ſame manner. When they are very dry, put
them up in ſeparate parcels, and keep them
fafe till autumn.
G
LEAVE

[ 50
LEAVE thoſe roots in the firſt bed which
have not yet flowered.
In the middle of September make up two
beds of the fame mould, raiſe them five inches
above the ſurface, and round them at the top.
When the mould las lain a week to ſettle, dig
it up again, level the ſurface as before, and plant
the roots; the fine ones in one of theſe beds,
and thoſe of an inferior kind in the other. Plant
the roots two inches deep, opening the ſurface
for this purpoſe with the point of a trowel;
and cover them carefully with the mould.
They ſhould ſtand at five inches diſtance one
from another.
If the winter ſhould be very fevere, the beds
muſt be ſheltered in the worſt weather. In
ſpring yet more care is needed, for theſe roots,
being planted early, will ſoon ſhoot for flower ;
and nothing is ſo injurious as froſt, or ſharp
winds to the bud. There muſt be hoops placed
over the beds, and canvaffes drawn over them
in the bad weather. They muſt now and then
have the benefit of watering, and always be
open to the noon-day ſun, which at this early
ſeaſon will have no power to hurt them. They
muſt only be covered in bad weather, for the
more air they can have ſafely, the better they
will blow.
IT will be now ſeen which are the fineſt
flowers, for there is no certainty in the firſt
blowing: not that the fineſt of the former year
will grow worſe, but many of the ſecond bed
will thew themſelves much better than they
promiſed.

[ 51 ]
promiſed. No Anemone has its full ſtrength
till the ſecond year's bloom, and no judgment
can be formed of it till that time with cer-
tainty.
The roots left in the feed-bed will this year
alſo flower; and they muſt be marked by two
kinds of ſticks; and afterwards taken up and
managed as the others.
THIS is the whole culture of the Anemone.
Every ſummer the roots are to be taken up
and dried, and every autumn planted. They
will increaſe; and the ſeparated parts may be
raiſed to flower like the off-fets of Auricula's,
or other plants: and thus there will be a conti-
nual enlargement of the quantity. But the way
to raiſe new and fine kinds muſt be by fowing.
Therefore as double Anemones do not ripen
ſeed, it muſt be ſaved from the ſingle ones;
many of theſe appear with the double ; and
ſome of the beſt plants muſt be preſerved for
this purpoſe. The trouble of fowing is ſo lit-
tle, that it may very well be repeated every
year.
CH A P. IV.
a
The Management of BULBOUS-ROOTED
FLOWERS.
THESE have a large roundifh root; com-
poſed of a ſolid fleſhy ſubſtance, or of
many ſkins one over another. The rudiment
of the future plant is preſerved ſo well in theſe,
G 2
thac

[ 52 )
that they may, as the tuberous ones, be taken
up after flowering, and kept out of the ground
till autumn. This is of the ſame advantage to
the flowers as in the other inſtance, and the
management is in a great meaſure the fame;
only the ſeedling plants are much longer before
they flower. This makes the practice ſome-
what different. We ſhall ſelect the Tulip for
an inſtance.
As we directed all the feeds to be fown at
the ſame time in feparate beds in the nurſery,
we are to ſuppoſe Tulip-feed had its place
among the reſt. Theſe feeds have been fown
in Auguſt. The young plants will appear the
following April like blades of graſs; and theſe
firſt leaves will fade in about five weeks. The
ſurface of the bed ſhould be then cleared of
all young ſhoots of weeds or moſs, and ſome
freſh mould fifted on to cover it a third of an
ch. In September the ſurface muſt be again
well cleared of every foulneſs, and a new coat
of the ſame mould fifted on of the fame thick-
neſs. All this time, and all the following win-
ter, the minute roots will be gathering ſtrength.
In ſpring they will again ſhoot up ſmall leaves :
theſe will fade as the heat of ſummer comes
on, and then the roots are to be taken up. This
muſt be done with care, for they are yet very
ſmall.
A NEw bed muſt be made for them, and
this ſhould be five inches thick in mould :
the bottom ſhould be the natural earth, well
rammed, that it may be even and hard : the
a
roots

[ 53 )
roots muſt be planted in this bed when they
are taken out of the other, which will be
about the beginning of July. They muſt be
ſet at three inches diſtance, and covered an
inch and half above the crown. At the latter
end of September, a freſh covering of half an
inch of the ſame mould muſt be given them,
and the ſame early in the ſpring. After this
the bed muſt be watered at times; the leaves
will appear again in March, and fade about
July: then a freſh coat of half an inch of
mould muſt be laid on, and the ſame again in
autumn. The next ſummer they muſt have
juſt the ſame management; and in the ſum-
mer of the ſucceeding year they muſt be taken
up again.ws anods OR
The roots having now four years growth,
will be of ſome conſiderable fize. A new bed
muſt then be made for them juſt as the former,
only two inches deeper in mould. They muſt
be planted in this three inches deep from the
crown to the ſurface, and they muſt ſtand fix
inches afunder. lle ne
They muſt remain two years in this bed,
keeping the ſurface conſtantly clear from weeds,
and giving them a new coat of mould every
fummer and autumn. This brings them to
their perfection, and the next year they will
flower. Some will blow ſooner, but they will
be the worſe for it.
The roots muſt be taken up in the ſummer
of this laſt year, and laid on a canvas to dry.
They ſhould be kept out of the ground till
autumn,

[54]
autumn, and then planted in beds of the fame
mould two foot deep, and rounded at the top:
the roots muſt be planted feven inches deep,
and ten inches diſtant from one another. The
next year they will blow in perfection as to
ſhape and bigneſs; but they will not come to
the beauty of their colours till after one or more
years of farther growth.
Every ſeaſon the roots muſt be managed as
already directed; and in every ſummer's blow-
ing there will be ſome ſeen broken into ſtripes.
Theſe muſt be marked when in flower, and
the roots ſeparated from the others when they
are taken up: they muſt be planted in particu-
lar beds; and they will make by degrees a fine
collection.
This is the culture of the Tulip, the moſt
delicate of all the bulbous roots : and thus that
flower will be brought to its higheſt perfection.
The time of its growth is long; but the trouble
is very little
F I N I S.

BOOKS on GARDENING and BOTANY,
Publiſhed by R. Baldwin, in Paternoſter-row;
and J. Jackſon, in St. James's-ſtreet.
.
"A
New Method of propagating Fruit-Trees and
Flowering-Shrubs. * By THOMAS BARNES,
Gardener to W. Thomſon, Efq; at Elſham, near Bring,
in Lincolnſhire. Is. 6d.
2. Outlines of a Syſtem of Vegetable Generation.
By Dr. Hill. With Figures. 2 s. 6d.
3. A new Method of raiſing Double Flowers
from Single. With Figures. 2s.6d.
4. The Origin and Production of Proliferous
Flowers. With Figures. 2 s. 6d.
Theſe two laſt by the Same Author.

Ε.Ο.




Fiedler 1/3/1920



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