together mountains of manure and consuming
valuable coke and coal.

But all melons are forced, are they not?
Where do you see any, at any season, that are
not grown under frames, or hot-beds? Is it
possible to grow them otherwise than through
the agency of a heavy fixed capital of glass and
wood, and fermenting horse-droppings constantly
renewed, and iron-pipes, and hot-water, and
fuel, and attendance morning and evening, night
and day? What, therefore, do you mean by
melons for the million and their natural season?

Have patience, and you shall see. Let us
take things quietly, in their proper order.

Melons are of so many sorts, their varieties
have been so long cultivated in all the warmer
regions of the globe, so crossed and multiplied
that, to draw a distinct line between the majority
of individuals composing the assemblage, is
difficult. An ancient Pagan had the wickedness
to say, "A variable and mutable thing is—a
woman;" it would have been more gallant and
equally true had he said, "A variable and mutable
thing is—a melon." Grandchildren turn out
different to their grandmothers; of own brothers
and sisters, the progeny of the same parents as far
as we can tell, some will be lengthy, others short
and stout, some fair-complexioned, others dark;
less frequently, some will prove agreeable and
sweet, others will be harsh, or unpleasant and
flat. The same melon-plant may produce, on
different branches, perfectly symmetrical
individuals and deformed monsters half
melon-shaped, half pudding-shaped, or some with
red flesh, and some with green flesh. But
it is probable that these variations take place
within the limits of a circle beyond the
circumference of which they do not stray. If a real
melon at once loses caste and flavour by
misalliance with a pumpkin, the consequence is,
that it is utterly excluded by every gardener,
and there is an end of it. Good melons, on the
other hand, which possess the merits of flavour
and of handsome form, without any decided
character of race, still retain their position
amongst the cucurbitaceous aristocracy, and pass
current amidst the select crowd of fruits.

With this confession of interminateness,
melons may, for convenience, be classed into
three categories. The first is the melon
maraîcher, the kitchen-garden melon of the
French, the Black Rock, and the Dutch Rock
of the English, round and flattened at top and
bottom, but really of uncertain form, occasionally
attaining considerable weight, often covered
with embroidery or network, mostly without
defined ribs, with thick rind and plenty of juicy
flesh not very high in flavour; but you often
light upon melons of this race that are improved
by accidental crossings with superior varieties.
If you want to grow a melon that will travel
distances of from five to five hundred miles,
some of these will exactly suit you; amongst
them, too, you will be sure to find a sort which
succeeds in your locality. Melons, like cats,
are attached to place rather than to persons;
varieties which are perfectly well-behaved at
Bordeaux, will turn out badly at Paris, and
vice versâ, which is still more extraordinary.
Melon-seeds which produce good fruit at Paris,
will be the parents of nothing but bad at
Bordeaux. The Sucrin de Tours, and the American
melons belonging to this section, are well
deserving of patronage. If you wish to exhibit a
monster melon, of handsome elongated form,
with broad ribs, try the famous Sucrin de
Honfleur, or Honfleur melon. Inexorable
horticultural judges, who will brandish their knives,
and use them too, may say that its flesh is a
little coarse; but it is only a little, if at all;
and it is so juicy, pleasant, cut-and-come-again,
that young gentlemen home for the long vacation
will find no fault with it.

The maraîcher melons pass for being more
feverish than the rest of their brethren towards
the close of the season; but with all melons
we should remember we are dealing with a
family whose reputation is stained by poisoning
transactions. The correcting influence of the
sun and the degree of ripeness may make all the
difference whether a suspected fruit is dangerous
or innocent. As is the case with the family of
which the potato is a worthy member, caution
is necessary: to the tomato, the egg-plant, and
the aubergine, are closely allied the bitter-sweet
nightshade and the deadly belladonna. Even
the potato is not always harmless, unless the
water in which it is boiled be strained away.
For a good and wholesome Irish stew, the
potatoes should be cooked separately.

It is a very cloudy frontier line which divides
the kitchen-garden melons from the second
division, the Cantaloups, which are sub-divided
again into innumerable shades of variation.
They are round, flattened at the stalk and the
crown, ribbed, often broader than they are long,
thick-skinned, sometimes warty, and well
adapted for travelling, like their predecessors.
The Orange Cantaloup is moderate-sized, early,
useful, and good. The Noir des Cannes, or the
Carmelites' Black, a precious variety which
every one should have, is round, very dark green
until ripe, with smoothish rind and not deep
ribs, of excellent quality, and an abundant
bearer if you will let it have its own way, of
which more anon. There is the Little Prescott;
and there are two varieties of the Great Prescott,
i.e. with a green ground, and with a white
ground (Silver Cantaloup), ribbed and warty, all
good and early sorts; but, if a melon-race were
to be run, I should bet upon the little one.
There are green-fleshed Cantaloups; there are
quite small Cantaloups, as the Boule de Siam,
dark green, with broad ribs, and Queen Anne's
Pocket Melon, just enough for one person,
which may be trained against a south wall, like
a vine. The Cantaloups are said to be less
given to vary than other melons.

Of the third and most decided race, we will
describe the characters before giving a list of
names. They are thin-skinned, and not much
adapted for travelling, which is the less to be
regretted, as their delicious quality tempts you
to keep them at home, unless a special favour is