Part 42

PARLOR FLOWERS.

Water freely such as are in pots, while in blossom. The flower stalks will be apt to shoot up taller and weaker than in the garden, and will require rods to support them. Let the rod be thrust down about two inches from the centre of the flower, and attach the flower stem to it by one or two ligaments. Flowers in small stove rooms can be kept in health with extreme difficulty. The heat forces their growth, or injures the leaves. They should be washed off once a week (either on a mild day out of doors, or in a warm room within, if the weather be severe), as the dust settles upon the leaf, and stops up the stomata (mouths) by which the leaf perspires and breathes. If green aphides infest them, put a pan of coals beneath the stand, and throw on a half-handful of coarse tobacco. In half an hour every insect will tumble off. Let such as lie on the surface of the earth be removed or crushed, as they will else revive. Plants should have fresh air every day.

A SALT RECIPE.

There is a great fashion, now-a-days, in all papers, to set forth useful recipes for every imaginable purpose. Every newspaper has its weekly budget of recipes. Our magazines have a page of original recipes; and, before long, why should not the North American Review, or the Edinburgh Review come out with their quarterly bill of fare reciped in full? So practical is our nineteenth century, that our literary men and women feel it to be a solemn duty to indite novel recipes for cooking, seasoning, removing stains, curing diseases, etc.; and why not? If one can invent a sonnet, an elegy, or worse yet, a poem, and thus draw people’s brains a wool-gathering in the regions of imagination, ought they not to atone for their license by an invention equally substantial for the body? Miss Leslie writes a beautiful story, and a recipe for manipulating lobsters. Miss Martineau writes travels, political economies and suggestions on plum pudding. Mrs. Sigourney tunes her lyre with a hand most redolent of pies, cakes and gingerbread. Such is the aspect of culinary affairs, and the rights of women, that the day seems at hand when no learning will sustain a man, and no accomplishments a woman, who does not understand the art and mystery of cooking. It will be the duty of some future Heyne to give accurate recipes for all the feasts of Homer’s heroes, the ingredients of all the Horacian drinking-bouts—the dishes of Virgil’s fine fellows, as well as the minor matters of armor, language, manners, and customs; and a good lexicon, Hebrew, Greek, or Latin, must contain clearly written recipes for all the dishes used by the people whose language it sets forth. We have been led into this grand prairie of reflections by a recipe found in a country paper which unquestionably is salty.

“INDIAN BAKED PUDDING.—Indian pudding is good and wholesome, baked. Scald a quart of milk, and stir in seven table spoonfuls of salt, a tea-cupful of molasses, and a great spoonful of ginger, or sifted cinnamon. Bake three or four hours. If you want whey you must be sure and pour in a little cold milk, after it is all mixed. Try it.”

If Misses Leslie, Childs, etc., refuse to mother such a recipe, with no Indian meal in it, but seven mortal spoonfuls of salt, then we will consider it as emanating from Lot’s wife. We are sure if one should eat many such puddings, he would speedily come to her estate.

CULTURE OF CELERY.

We know of no vegetable which requires more care and skill in its cultivation, from beginning to end, than celery. An inexperiened hand will be apt to fail in planting his seed, fail in preparing the trenches, and fail in earthing up the plants and bleaching them. And yet, celery is so generally a favorite that every family desires it, and every gardener is willing to cultivate it.

SEED SOWING.—The seed is exceedingly slow in germination, and, if not assisted artificially, will lie three and sometimes four weeks without sprouting. We soak the seed in water, (a solution of oxalic acid would be much better), for twenty-four hours: turn off the water, and then add and stir up a few handfuls of sand, well moistened, and let the seed stand in a stove room or other warm place, for two or three days. The sand will now be nearly dry; if it be not, add dry sand to it until it is perfectly powdery, and can be sown without falling in lumps. Besides hastening its germination, mixing the seed with sand enables the operator to sow it with greater facility and evenness. Select a shaded spot, let the earth be rich, rather inclined to moisture, and perfectly mellow. Sow the seed broadcast, and cover very thinly by sifting over it finely pulverized mold. Beat the bed gently with the back of the spade to settle the earth firmly about the seed. Don’t fear that the seed will be troubled by beating; every seed should have the earth pressed to it by a smart stroke of the hoe, hand, spade, or by the pressure of a roller. If the weather is exceedingly warm and dry, cover your seed-bed with matting or old carpet, to retain the moisture. When up let them be well weeded, until they are six inches high, when they are to be removed to the trench for blanching.

FIRST TRANSPLANTING.—The process here detailed may be wholly omitted by those who are obliged to economize time and labor. But those who wish to do the very best that can be done—who wish to avoid spindling, weak plants, and secure strong and vigorous ones—transplant their celery to a level bed of very rich soil, placing the plants four inches apart every way. They are cultivated here for about five weeks, when they will have attained a robust habit, or, technically, they will have became stocky—for which purpose they were thus transplanted.

CELERY TRENCHES.—Dig your trenches about eighteen inches wide, and one foot deep, laying a shovelful of dirt alternately on each side of the trench, that it may be conveniently drawn in on both sides when you earth up. If you are favored with a very deep and rich loamy soil, such as often abounds in Western gardens, you will need little or no manure. But usually about four inches of vegetable mold and very thoroughly rotted manure, should be placed in the bottom of the trench and gently spaded in. No part of the culture is more critical than manuring. If the soil is slow, poor, and stingy, the celery will be dwarfish, tough and strong. On the other hand, if you employ new, rank, fiery manure, although you will have a vigorous growth, the stalks will be hollow, watery, coarse and flavorless. Let the manure be very thoroughly decayed and mixed half and half with leaf or vegetable mold.

Set the plants five inches apart, water them freely with a fine rosed watering pot, and, if the sun is fierce, cover the trenches daily from ten A.M. till evening with boards. In about a week they will begin to grow and will need no more shading.

Let them alone, except to weed, until the plants are from twelve to fifteen inches high—at which time they are to be earthed up.

EARTHING UP.—In dry weather, with a short, hand-hoe, draw in the earth gently from each side and bring it up carefully to the stalk. The soil must be kept out of the plant, and it is best for the first and perhaps the second time of earthing, to gather up the leaves in the left hand, and holding them together, to draw the earth about them. Fill in about once in two weeks, and always when the plants are dry. When the trench is full, the process is still to go on, and at the close of the season your plants will be exactly reversed—instead of standing in a trench they will top out from a high ridge.

SAVING CELERY IN WINTER.—Three ways may be mentioned. Letting it stand in the trench—in which case it should be covered with long straw and boards so laid over it that it will be protected from the wet, which is supposed to be more prejudicial to it than mere cold.

The Boston market gardeners dig it late in autumn, trim off the fibrous roots, cut off the top, lay it for two days in an airy shed, turning it, say twice a day, and then pack it in layers of perfectly dry sand, in a barrel. After laying two days to air it goes into the barrel much wilted, but regains its plumpness, and comes out as fresh as from the trench.

Lastly, it may be put in rows on the cellar bottom, without trimming, and earth heaped up about it. Set a plank at an angle of forty-five degrees and bank up the earth against it, set a row of roots and cover them with dirt, then another row and so on.

Solid celery is not a particular variety—any celery is solid when properly grown—and if grown too rankly the most solid celery in the world will be hollow.

We have seen it recommended to water the trenches once or twice during the season with a weak brine of salt and water. Besides the fertilizing effect of salt, it will have the effect of retaining moisture in the soil, and what is of yet more moment, it destroys the parasitical fungus (Puccinca Heraclei) which attacks and rusts the plant, and probably would, also, guard it against a maggot which is apt to infest and very much injure it. There is an insect, which, in very dry weather, is apt to sting the leaf and cause it to wilt. While the dew is on in the morning, sift lime over the plants once or twice, and it will check the fly.

If any think these directions too minute and the process vexatious, they are at liberty to try a cheaper method—and may, once in a while, succeed. But a certain crop, year by year, cannot be expected without exact and very careful cultivation. We have learned this by sorrowful experience.

The main crop of celery need not be placed in the trenches until the middle of July or the first of August. It’s greatest growth will be in the fall months.

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SEEDLING TREES.—Many trees which are entirely hardy when grown, are very tender during the first and second winters. Cover them with straw, refuse garden gatherings, leaves, etc. Sometimes it is best to raise them and lay them in by the heels, by which those gardeners designate the operation of laying trees in trenches or excavations, and covering the roots and a considerable portion of the stems. This will not be extra labor in all cases when the young trees are to be reset, at any rate, the second year in nursery rows.

CULTURE OF PIE-PLANT.

Beginners should in all cases, if possible, obtain a supply of plants, from a proved sort, by dividing the root. Raising from seed is an after, and an amateur practice. The first object with every man is to supply his family with this esculent, and not to experiment with new sorts. Let him buy or beg from garden or nursery, enough buds to establish a bed, of some kind already known to be good.

The best season of the year for dividing the root is in the spring; the next best is in late autumn; and the worst in midsummer—as we have abundantly ascertained by experiment. The reason is plain. Like bulbs, and tubers, the root of the pie-plant stores up in itself during one season, a supply of organizable matter enough to enable it to start off the next season, without any dependence upon the soil. Dahlias, potatoes, onions, turnips, cabbages, etc., it is well known, are able to grow for a considerable time, in the spring, without any connection with the soil; being sustained by that supply which they had treasured up within themselves the previous autumn. When this is exhausted, they will die, if they have not been put in connection with food from without. When pie-plant is divided in the spring, it is full of the material of life, and a bud cut off from the main root with a portion of the root attached, has a supply of food until new roots are emitted, which in good soil and weather will be in about a week. There is the same vitality in autumn, and the only reason why it is not so good for transplanting as spring, is the risk that the buds and roots will rot off during the winter. A uniform winter will scarcely injure one in a hundred, but constant changes, freezing and thawing, will weaken, if not destroy many of them. When, however, it is necessary to divide and transplant in the fall, cover the bed full four inches deep with coarse, strong manure. Although great care will enable one to transplant a section of the root in midsummer, yet we have found that when no more attention is paid than in spring, nine plants are lost out of ten. The reason is obvious. There is no reserved treasure of sap in the root in summer, such as gives it vitality in spring or autumn. If for any reason we must take up a root in summer, let every possible fibre be saved, the plant well watered and sheltered until it begins to grow again.

RAISING FROM SEED.—The origination of new varieties of fruits, flowers and esculent vegetables is one of the greatest rewards of gardening. Almost every seed of the pie-plant will produce a variety. We have thought ourselves repaid for trouble if one in fifty seedling plants were worth saving. It requires a full two years’ trial to improve a sort. Of fifty plants, say twenty-five may be rejected peremptorily the first season, the petioles being mere wires. Of the other twenty-five, one or two will give great promise, and the others will be doubtful. Let them be transplanted in the spring of the second season, into very mellow, rich, deep loam, full three feet apart every way, and here they may stand until the owner is fully satisfied, by the trial of one or more seasons, which are good and which inferior. In marking seedling plants, the cultivator should bear in mind that there are two kinds required, viz. a very early sort, and one for the later and main supply. If a plant has small stalks, and is late too, reject it of course. If it be very early, it may be valuable even if quite small. Some sorts are fit for plucking five or six weeks before others; we have a variety which comes forward almost the moment the frost leaves the ground in the spring, or in warm spells in winter.

In selecting a late sort from your seedlings, several qualities must be consulted. The plant should manifest an indisposition to go to seed; should be apt to throw out an abundance of leaves, to supply those taken off; the petioles should be large; the meat rich and substantial. There is great difference between one sort and another in the amount of sugar required, in the delicacy of flavor, and in the property of stewing to a pulp, without wasting away.