I had about forty cherry trees in one of my orchards, and among them a very early kind of black cherry, as well as Black Bigarreaus, White Heart and Elton Heart. The early ones made particularly good prices, but when the French cherries began to be imported, being on the market a week or two before ours they "took the keen edge off the demand," though wretched-looking things in comparison. The cherries from my forty trees made £80 one year when the crop was good, but they are expensive to pick as there is much shifting of heavy ladders, and the work was done by men. In Kent, I believe, women are employed at cherry-picking, ascending forty-round ladders in a gale of wind without a sign of nervousness, but with a man in attendance to pack the fruit and shift the ladders when required. I found Liverpool the best market for cherries, where they were bought by the large steamship companies for the Transatlantic liners, and where they were in demand for the seaside and holiday places in North Wales and Lancashire. Like the pear-trees, the cherry-trees are very beautiful in spring, and again in autumn, and as mine could be seen from the house and garden, they added a great charm to the place.
I must put in a word here for the bullfinch, which is unreasonably persecuted for its supposed destruction of the cherry crop when in bloom; it undoubtedly picks many blossoms to pieces, but probably no ultimate loss of weight follows; very few comparatively of the blooms ever become fruits in any case, and even if some are thus nipped in the bud, it is probable that the remainder mature into larger and finer cherries in consequence. The advantage of thinning is recognized in the case of all our fruits, and is indeed, the reason for pruning. The vine-grower knows well the truth of the saying that, "You should get your enemy to thin your grapes," and I would sacrifice many cherries for a few of these beautiful birds in my garden, for man does not live by bread alone.
One of the old couplets, of which our forefathers were so fond, runs:
"A cherry year is a merry year,
And a plum year is a dumb year."
I have seen the explanation suggested that cherries being particularly wholesome contributed to the happiness of mankind, but that the less salubrious plum tended to depression of health and spirits. There is, however, a small black cherry still grown in this and other parts of Hampshire and Surrey called the "Merry," from the French merise, and it was natural that when cherries were abundant the merry would also be plentiful. The word "dumb" is an archaic synonym for "damson," and the same rule would apply between it and the plum, as with the cherry and the merry. My own small place here, in the New Forest, has been known for centuries as "the Merry Gardens," and no doubt they were once grown here, as at other places in the south of England, called Merry Hills, Merry Fields, and Merry Orchards. Even now as I write, on May Day, the buds on the wild cherries in my hedges are showing the white bloom just ready to appear, and in a few days, these trees will be spangled with their little bright stars. I imagine that they are no very distant relation of the old merry-trees that once flourished here.
CHAPTER XVI.
TREES: ELM—OAK—BEECH—WILLOW—SCOTS-FIR.
"O flourish, hidden deep in fern,
Old oak, I love thee well;
A thousand thanks for what I learn
And what remains to tell."
—The Talking Oak.
Keats tells us that
"The trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self,"