Part 3

“We’ll hang Jeff Davis on a sour-apple tree.”

There is, in this toothsomeness of the apple, together with its utter harmlessness, a provision for nurses and mothers. There is a growing period when children are voracious. They must be filled; and it is a matter of great account to know what to fill them with. If you give them but bread, that seems meager. Pies, cakes, and sweetmeats are mischievous; and yet more so are candies and confections. Apples just hit the mark. They are more than a necessary of life, and less than a luxury. They stand just half-way between bread and cake, as wholesome as one and as good as the other.

But now I enter upon the realm of uses, culinary and domestic, where, were I an ancient poet, I should stop and invoke all the gods to my aid. But the gods are all gone; and next to them is that blessing of the world, the housewife. Her I invoke, and chiefly one who taught me, by her kitchen magic, to believe that the germ of civilization is in the art and science of the kitchen. Is there, among fruits, one other that has so wide a range, or a range so important, so exquisite, so wonderful, as the range of the apple in the kitchen?

First, consider it as a fruit-vegetable. It might with great advantage take its place upon the table as regularly as the potato or the onion. Far more odorous is the onion, but, I think, far more blessed is the apple. It is an admirable accompaniment of meat, which always craves a piquant acid for relish. And when meat is wanting, a scrap of pork in the frying-pan, with sliced apples, will serve the economic table almost as well as if it had been carved from a beef or cut from a sheep.

We do not use the apple enough in our cooking. As a fruit upon the table it may be used for breakfast, for supper, for dessert. Roasted apples! Baked apples! What visions come before my mind! Not the baked apples of the modern stove, which has humbled their glory. They are still worth eating, but they have lost the stature, the comeliness, and the romance of the old roasted apples, that were placed in due order between the huge andirons, and turned duly by the careful servant, drinking in heat on one side and oxygen on the other, and coming to a degree of luxurious nicety that will never be attained till we go back again to the old fireplace. It was a real pleasure to be sick,—I mean on the hither border of sickness; so that we might not go to school, and so that, while we took a little magnesia, we might feast on delicious roasted apples. And as for baked apples and milk, how can I adequately speak of that most excellent dish!

Then, again, the apple may be regarded as a confection, serving in the form of tarts, pies,—blessed be the unknown person who invented the apple-pie! Did I know where the grave of that person was, methinks I would make a devout pilgrimage thither, and rear a monument over it that should mark the spot to the latest generations. Of all pies, of every name, the apple-pie is easily the first and chief. And what shall I say of jellies, dumplings, puddings, and various preserves, that are made from the apple?

It might seem hard, in this enumeration of the many forms in which the apple is made to contribute to the benefit of mankind, not to notice that form in which it defies age, I refer to the dried apple. No festoons are more comely than were those half-circles that used to decorate the rafters of the old-fashioned kitchen. I confess that no dried fruit is worthy to be called fruit, whether it be huckleberry, or peach, or pear, or apple. Once dried, these things have lost the soul of their flavor; and no coddling, no soaking, no experimenting, will ever bring them back to what they were in their original fresh life. You cannot give youth to old age in apples any more than among men. And yet, as a souvenir, as a sad remembrances of days gone by, dried apples are very good.

Next, we naturally consider the use of apples as food for stock,—for swine, for horses, and for cattle. This use of them is known; but it seems to me that they are not thus employed near so much as their benefits would justify.

Last of all, let me speak of cider; for, although the days of temperance have banished cider from its former and almost universal position upon the farmer’s table, it is creeping back again. Not daring to come in its own name, it comes in the name of a neighbor, and is called champagne. But whether it comes in one form or another, it still is savory of the orchard; still it brings warmth to chilly veins; still it is a contribution to many a homely domestic festival. And though I cannot, as a temperance man, exhort you to make it, I must say, that if you will make it, you had better make it good!

But woe to him who takes another step in that direction! Cider-brandy is a national disgrace. How great is the calamity that impends over a community that makes cider-brandy may be known by the recent history of the Shenandoah valley; it being declared by several of the Richmond papers that the defeat of Early was owing to the abundance of apple-jack there.

It only remains that I should say a single word on the subject of the apple as an article of commerce. Whether fresh or dried, it is still, in that relation, a matter of no small importance. The home market is enlarging every year; and as soon as the apple shall become so cheap that all men may have it no matter how poor they may be, the market must of necessity have become very much augmented. Many men suppose that as orchards increase and fruit multiplies the profits diminish. Such is not the fact. As the commoner kinds multiply, and the common people learn to use them as daily food, the finer kinds will bear proportionally higher prices; and cheapness is one of the steps to profit in all things that are consumed in the community. And I should be glad to see the day when, for a few pence, every drayman, every common laborer in every city, should be able to bring as much fruit to his house every day as his family could consume in that day. I should be glad to see in our cities, what is to be seen to some extent in the cities of Europe, the time when a penny or two will enable a man to bring home enough flowers to decorate his table of food twice a day.

We have not merely in view the profits of raising fruit when we exhort you to bestow your attention on the apple more and more as an article of commerce; we have also in view the social influence which it may be made to exert. I hold that when in any respect you lift the common people up, whether by giving them a better dwelling, by placing within their reach better furniture, or by enabling them to furnish their table better, you are raising them toward self-respect; you are raising them toward the higher positions in society. For, although all men should start with the democracy, all men have a right to stop with the aristocracy. Let all put their feet on the same level; and then let them shoot as high as they please. Blessed is the man that knows how to overtop his neighbors by a fair development of skill and strength. And every single step of advance in general cultivation, even though it is brought about by so humble an instrumentality as the multiplication of fruit, or anything else that augments the range of healthful enjoyment among the common people, not only stimulates their moral growth, but, through that growth, gives the classes above them a better chance to grow. One of the most efficient ways of elevating the whole community is to multiply the means of livelihood among the poorest and commonest.

I will not finish my remarks with those elaborate statistics or with those admirable and eloquent periods with which I should be pleased to entertain you, for two reasons: first, because I would not consume your time at so late an hour; and, secondly, because I have none of these things at hand!

II.

A FEW FLOWERS EASILY RAISED.

February 22d, 1868.

The love of flowers is steadily increasing among the common people of America, and anything which shall increase the knowledge and skill of the plain people in the management of flowers will be a contribution to the public welfare.

Those that are rich can command the services of expert gardeners, and need no advice from me. But there are thousands who have ground enough around their dwellings, and yet have little knowledge in the selection of plants and flowers, and little skill in the cultivation of them, to whom I may be of some service if I give such hints as have been derived chiefly from my own experience.

Assuming, then, that my reader has given but little attention to the cultivation of flowers, and that he needs to be told the simplest things, I would begin by recommending him to send for a catalogue of flowers to Mr. Vick, Rochester, N. Y., or to Mr. B. K. Bliss, of Park Place, New York, or Mr. Thorburn, John Street, also New York; not, as might at first be supposed, for the sake of the list of seeds, but because each catalogue contains brief directions how to prepare the ground, how to sow various kinds of seeds, etc., etc. With such hints as these catalogues afford, one can begin. The very first step is to succeed the first year in admirably raising one or two things. If one undertakes too much before having practical experience he will fail, become disgusted, and give up the whole effort at flowers in discouragement. But the exquisite delight of seeing a bed of flowers, of your own raising, and thoroughly good, will be apt to inspire a real ambition, and lay the foundation for future success with more difficult flowers.

I will suppose a young lady, who never has cultivated flowers, but who can afford to hire a man’s services for one or two days in the spring. She is to perform all the rest of the work herself. What shall she plant?

Morning-glories. If possible, select a place which the morning sun will not reach before nine or ten o’clock in the forenoon, in order to save the daily bloom from withering before you have had half enough enjoyment. Let the ground be made mellow, and enriched with black dirt from the woods, or with old and well-decayed barn-yard manure, or, if neither are convenient, with a pint of superphosphate of lime to each square yard of ground, well mixed into the soil. This can now be bought in almost every large town, or the merchant who sells seeds will procure it for you.

The common sorts of morning-glories, if combined, will answer well. But one who would do the best should have two beds, one of the Convolvulus and the other of Ipomea. The difference is of importance only to a botanist. To the common eye the flowers are the same. Of Ipomeas there is a puce-colored one, which blossoms late in the afternoon, named Buona Nox; a mazarine-blue, shading to red (Learii); a sky-blue with white edge, called in the catalogue—don’t be afraid!—Ipomea hederacea superba grandiflora, i. e. the superb great-flowering ivy-leaved Ipomea. And then there is a very fine variety of this same one, whose Latin name you will get by adding to the above the compound word Atro-violacea. One more name, viz. Ipomea limbata elegantissima.

Plant the seeds as soon as the frost is finally out of the ground. Let there be pales, or strings, or trellis, arranged for them to climb upon, and you will have all summer long, and till the frost kills them, a magnificent show of exquisite blossoms every morning; Sundays as well as week-days, for flowers wear their Sunday clothes all through the week. We have derived as much pleasure from these morning-glories as from any one thing in our garden. They are healthy and hearty growers, not infested with insects, profuse in bloom, surpassing all blossoms in exquisite form and delicacy, and, what is of prime importance, holding forth through the whole summer, whether hot or cold, wet or dry.

The common morning-glory will sow itself, and come up every year in the same place; but the seed of the Ipomea must be saved and planted every spring anew. Now, let some sweet girl begin her flower-life with morning-glories—nothing else—the first year, and see if she will ever let a summer go by afterward without flowers!

A bed of China Aster, although blossoming for only a few weeks, may be had with so little trouble that one may well undertake it. Send for the best kind, say Truffant’s Giant Emperor, or his new Peony-flowered. Plant them in rows six inches apart, in a seed-bed. Keep them clean from all weeds. When grown from an inch to two inches high, transplant them to a prepared bed, placing them about fifteen inches apart each way. The ground should be rich, light, and gently hoed, at least once a week, to keep the surface open. If very large flowers are wanted, not more than three blooms should be allowed to one root. We prefer, however, to give the plant a rich soil and let it yield its flowers, large and small, to suit itself. The seed should be saved from the largest blossoms only.

A particular favorite with us is the Petunia. If fine seed is secured, a bed of seedlings may be easily grown which will be splendid the whole summer long. The directions for the aster may be followed for Petunias, except that the plants should stand two feet apart. Select a place where they will have air and sun all day. They are generous, and will roll out billows of color through the whole summer, and even after the light early frosts have cut down many other things.

There are two other beds on which we depend for color every summer, and could no more afford to miss than we could the sunsets, viz. Dwarf Convolvulus and Eschscholtzia. A bed of Dwarf or Convolvulus Minor, say six by twelve feet, will be an object of pleasure all summer long. They are to be planted where they are to stand, as they will not bear transplanting good-naturedly. Sow in rows eight inches apart, and when well up thin out, leaving the plants a foot apart. There are five or six varieties, and the mixed seed, from a reputable seedsman, should contain them all. No one will be willing to go without a bed of Dwarf Convolvulus who has once seen how easily they are raised, and how splendid and long-continued is their blossoming.

Manage the Eschscholtzia in almost exactly the same way. There are three shades of color,—pale yellow, bright yellow, and orange. The foliage is extremely delicate. The buds are very shapely, and the full bloom gives brilliancy to the whole region where the bed is planted. No one knows this flower who has not seen its effect in beds, or on long borders. In a similar way the Poppy should be raised. Get seed of the Carnation Poppy and the Peony-flowered Poppy. It will not bear transplanting well.