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CABBAGES AND CAULIFLOWERS.

OBJECT OF THIS TREATISE.

As a general, yet very thorough, response to inquiries from many of my customers about cabbage raising, I have aimed in this treatise to tell them all about the subject. The different inquiries made from time to time have given me a pretty clear idea of the many heads under which information is wanted; and it has been my aim to give this with the same thoroughness of detail as in my little work on Squashes. I have endeavored to talk in a very practical way, drawing from a large observation and experience, and receiving, in describing varieties, some valuable information from McIntosh's work, "The Book of the Garden."

THE ORIGIN OF CABBAGE.

Botanists tell us that all of the Cabbage family, which includes not only every variety of cabbage, Red, White, and Savoy, but all the cauliflower, broccoli, kale, and brussels sprouts, had their origin in the wild cabbage of Europe (Brassica oleracea), a plant with green, wavy leaves, much resembling charlock, found growing wild at Dover in England, and other parts of Europe. This plant, says McIntosh, is mostly confined to the sea-shore, and grows only on chalky or calcareous soils.

Thus through the wisdom of the Great Father of us all, who occasionally in his great garden allows vegetables to sport into a higher form of life, and grants to some of these sports sufficient strength of individuality to enable them to perpetuate themselves, and, at times, to blend their individuality with that of other sports, we have the heading cabbage in its numerous varieties, the creamy cauliflower, the feathery kale, the curled savoy. On my own grounds from a strain of seed that had been grown isolated for years, there recently came a plant that in its structure closely resembled Brussels Sprouts, growing about two feet in height, with a small head under each leaf. The cultivated cabbage was first introduced into England by the Romans, and from there nearly all the kinds cultivated in this country were originally brought. Those which we consider as peculiarly American varieties, have only been made so by years of careful improvement on the original imported sorts. The characteristics of these varieties will be given farther on.

WHAT A CABBAGE IS.

If we cut vertically through the middle of the head, we shall find it made up of successive layers of leaves, which grow smaller and smaller, almost ad infinitum. Now, if we take a fruit bud from an apple-tree and make a similar section of it, we shall find the same structure. If we observe the development of the two, as spring advances, we shall find another similarity (the looser the head the closer will be the resemblance),—the outer leaves of each will unwrap and unfold, and a flower stem will push out from each. Here we see that a cabbage is a bud, a seed bud (as all fruit buds may be termed, the production of seed being the primary object in nature, the fruit enclosing it playing but a secondary part), the office of the leaves being to cover, protect, and afterwards nourish the young seed shoot. The outer leaves which surround the head appear to have the same office as the leaves which surround the growing fruit bud, and that office closes with the first year, as does that of the leaves surrounding fruit buds, when each die and drop off. In my locality the public must have perceived more or less clearly the analogy between the heads of cabbage and the buds of trees, for when they speak of small heads they frequently call them "buds." That the close wrapped leaves which make the cabbage head and surround the seed germ, situated just in the middle of the head at the termination of the stump, are necessary for its protection and nutrition when young, is proved, I think, by the fact that those cabbages, the heads of which are much decayed, when set out for seed, no matter how sound the seed germ may be at the end of the stump, never make so large or healthy a seed shoot as those do the heads of which are sound; as a rule, after pushing a feeble growth, they die.

For this reason I believe that the office of the head is similar to and as necessary as that of the leaves which unwrap from around the blossom buds of our fruit trees. It is true that the parallel cannot be fully maintained, as the leaves which make up the cabbage head do not to an equal degree unfold (particularly is this true of hard heads); yet they exhibit a vitality of their own, which is seen in the deeper green color the outer leaves soon attain, and the change from tenderness to toughness in their structure: I think, therefore, that the degree of failure in the parallel may be measured by the difference between a higher and a lower form of organic life.

Some advocate the economy of cutting off a large portion of the heads when cabbages are set out for seed to use as food for stock. There is certainly a great temptation, standing amid acres of large, solid, heads in the early spring months, when green food of all kinds is scarce, to cut and use such an immense amount of rich food, which, to the inexperienced eye, appears to be utterly wasted if left to decay, dry, and fall to the ground; but, for the reason given above, I have never done so. It is possible that large heads may bear trimming to a degree without injury to the seed crop; yet I should consider this an experiment, and one to be tried with a good deal of caution.

SELECTING THE SOIL.

In some of the best cabbage-growing sections of the country, until within a comparatively few years it was the very general belief that cabbage would not do well on upland. Accordingly the cabbage patch would be found on the lowest tillage land of the farm. No doubt, the lowest soil being the richer from a gradual accumulation of the wash from the upland, when manure was but sparingly used, cabbage would thrive better there than elsewhere,—and not, as was generally held, because that vegetable needed more moisture than any other crop. Cabbage can be raised with success on any good corn land, provided such land is well manured; and there is no more loss in seasons of drouth on such land than there is in seasons of excessive moisture on the lower tillage land of the farm. I wish I could preach a very loud sermon to all my farmer friends on the great value of liberal manuring to carry crops successfully through the effects of a severe drouth. Crops on soil precisely alike, with but a wall to separate them, will, in a very dry season, present a striking difference,—the one being in fine vigor, and the other "suffering from drouth," as the owner will tell you; but, in reality, from want of food.

The smaller varieties of