rows of early Virginia among the beds for the sake of impregnating the rest.
Mr. Hovey’s next formal notice was exactly one year from the foregoing, November, 1843, and it appears thus: “We believe it is now the generally received opinion of all intelligent cultivators (italics are ours again) that there is no necessity of making any distinction in regard to the sexual character of the plants When forming new beds. The idea of male and female flowers, first originated, we believe, by Mr. Longworth, of Ohio, is now considered as exploded.” Such a sudden change as this was brought about, he says, by additional information received during that year by means of his correspondents, and by more experience on his own part. He says nothing of male blossoms and female blossoms, which he had himself seen in wild strawberries. Mr. Hovey then assumed the theory that cultivation, good or bad, is the cause of fertile or unfertile beds of strawberries, and he says: “in conclusion, we think we may safely aver, that there is not the least necessity of cultivating any one strawberry near another (our italics) to insure the fertility of the plants, provided they are under a proper state of cultivation.”
Mr. Hovey now instituted experiments, which he promised to publish, by which to bring the matter to the only true test; and he, from time to time, re-promised to give the result to the public, which, thus far, we believe, he has forgotten to do.
His magazine for 1844 opens, as that of 1843 closed; and in the first number he says, “the oftener our attention is called to this subject, the more we feel confirmed in the opinon that the theory of Mr. Longworth is entirely unfounded; that there is no such thing as male and female plants, though certain causes may produce, as we know they have, fertile and sterile ones.”
Nevertheless, in the next issue but one this peremptory language is again softened down, and a doubt even appears,
when he says, “If Mr. Longworth’s theory should prove true,” etc. We, among others, waited anxiously for the promised experiments; but if published we never saw them. The subject rather died out of his magazine until August, 1845, when, in speaking of the Boston Pine, a second fine seedling of his own raising, he is seen bearing away on the other tack, if not with all sails set, yet with enough to give the ship headway in the right direction: “Let the causes be what they may, it is sufficient for all practical purposes, to know, that the most abundant crops (italics ours) can be produced by planting some sort abounding in staminate flowers, in the near vicinity of those which do not possess them.” P. 293. And on p. 444 he reiterates the advice to plant near the staminate varieties. In the August number for 1846, p. 309, Mr. Hovey shows himself a thorough convert to Mr. Longworth’s views, by indorsing, in the main, the report of the committee of the Cincinnati Horticultural Society. We hope after so various a voyage, touching at so many points, that he will now abide steadfast in the truth.
We look upon this as a very grave matter, not because the strawberry question is of such paramount, although it is of no inconsiderable importance; but it is of importance whether accredited scientific magazines should be trustworthy; whether writers or popular editors should be responsible for mistakes entirely unnecessary. We blame no man for vacillation, while yet in the process of investigation, nor for coming at the truth gradually, since this is the necessity of our condition to learn only by degrees, and by painful siftings. The very first requisite for a writer is, that he be worthy of trust in his statements. No man can be trusted who ventures opinions upon uninvestigated matters; who states facts with assurance which he has not really ascertained; who evinces rashness, haste, carelessness, credulity, or fickleness in his judgments. The question of perfect or imperfect blossoms depends upon the simplest exercise of eyesight. It requires no measurements,
no process of the laboratory, no minute dissections or nice calculations; it requires only that a man should see what he looks at.
When a boy, playing “how many fingers do I hold up,” by dint of peeping from under the bandage, we managed to make very clever guesses of how many lily-fingers some roguish lassie was holding in tempting show before our bandaged eyes; but some folks are not half so lucky with both eyes wide open, and the stamens and pistils standing before them.
If such a latitude is permitted to those who conduct the investigations peculiar to horticulture, who can confide in the publication of facts, observations or experiments? Of what use will be journals and magazines? They become like chronometers that will not keep time; like a compass that has lost its magnetic sensibility; like a guide who has lost his own way, and leads his followers through brake, and morass, and thicket, into interminable wanderings. Sometimes, the consciousness of faults in ourselves, which should make us lenient toward others, only serves to produce irritable fault-finding. After a comparison of opinions and facts, through a space of five years, with the most distinguished cultivators, East and West, Mr. Longworth is now universally admitted to have sustained himself in all the essential points which he first promulgated—not discovered, for he made no claims of that sort. The gardeners and the magazines of the East have, at length, adopted his practical views, after having stoutly, many of them, contested them.