APRIL 20. 1S9;I. 



The Weekly Florists^ Review. 



52 J 



lAGGS IN GREATER AMERICA. 



In the early spring before the Easter 

 rush had subsided. Jaggs began, as 

 usual, to exhibit a slight restiveness of 

 temper, together with a striking indis- 

 positon to plant carnations, and no 

 one was surprised when he asked the 

 boss for a temporary leave of absence, 

 ■which was declined in italics. He had 

 heard, he explained, of the demise of 

 his maiden aunt, who had spent her 

 blameless existence in selling tobacco 

 and hardbake in the vicinity of Cam- 

 berwell, and the British consul at New 

 York was anxious to communicate 

 with him. relative to a small legacy. 

 The boss, however, heard this narra- 

 tive with refrigerating calm, and 

 merely remarked that if Jaggs didn't 

 get the last of the McGowan's planted 

 before supper he would be liable to 

 hear something drop. Half an hour 

 later Jaggs, who had providently bor- 

 rowed a violent pink shirt and a white 

 satin tie from the newest "rookie" on 

 the place, wandered rapidly towards 

 the railway station, and Lonesomhurst 

 knew him no more for many moons. 



The horticultural graduate, whose 

 desire to join the Rough Riders had 

 been rudely quenched because he 

 couldn't ride, and who had been de- 

 nied even the poor consolation of en- 

 tering the infantry because he was. 

 as Tommy Atkins expressed it. a bit 

 shy on teeth, observed cynically that 

 Jaggs was just the sort of a fellow to 

 enter the army. The general impres- 

 sion was, however, that Jaggs was 

 more possibly detained by an unsym- 

 pathetic judiciary. 



It was long months afterwards that 

 the wanderer appeared. One of the 



boilers, suffering from an attack of 

 general debility, was leaking badly, 

 and Tommy Atkins, emerging from 

 the boiler pit, very rusty as to his 

 outer man, and with his countenance 

 adorned with red lead, like an imper- 

 fectly tanned Indian in his war paint, 

 was amazed to behold Jaggs leaning 

 against the potting bench, while the 

 boss held a post mortem upon a dead 

 Cattleya. Jaggs nodded carelessly at 

 the amazed Tommy, reached for a 

 handful of live sphagnum, and began 

 to top-dress the orchid pot. while he 

 continued some absorbing narrative. 

 He did not appear at supper, and the 

 entire force was righteously impatient 

 when he finally entered the potting 

 shed, carrying in one hand the boss's 

 revolver and in the other an oil-can. 

 a piece of very decayed chamois and 

 a few quill feathers. 



"I suppose you thought it just as 

 well to be prepared in case we began 

 to ask questions." observed the hor- 

 ticultural graduate, genially referring 

 to the revolver. 



"Don't you know as they always 

 throws in a gun with one o' them 

 Armour's 'am pinafore's?" inquired 

 Tommy Atkins, drawing public atten- 

 tion to Jaggs's costume. In place of 

 the coat in which he had left Lone- 

 somehurst. Jaggs wore a military 

 blouse of light brown khaki, which was 

 adorned on one sleeve with the crossed 

 flags of the signal corps, and on the 

 other with the pacific emblem of the 

 red cross. 



"A chap needs uncommon talent." 

 continued Tommy, "to belong to two 

 branches of the service at once. I 

 suppose, old chap, when you wasn't 

 wigwaggin' in the Signal Corps you 



was doin' the Good Samaritan without 

 the tuppence, along o' they Red Cross 

 nusses?" 



"How could he bother about sig- 

 nals, said the horticultural gradu- 

 ate, sarcastically, "when there's no 

 doubt he was the very first man on top 

 of the hill at San Juan?" 



"Now, don't begin bein' a gaudy 

 idiot, Johnny," remarked Jaggs, af- 

 fectionately. "I ain't one to take the 

 credit as belongs to another chap, and 

 I was busy enough while them Rough 

 Riders charged up the hill, breakin' 

 a way through one o' them Spanish 

 trochas. One o' the Rough Riders— 

 a chap from Oklahoma, he was — start- 

 ed saying' things as I wouldn't re- 

 peat 'cos, he say as some pizen-faced 

 swamp lizard in his own company 

 swiped his cartridge belt and he hadn't 

 a round left. I says, 'What's the mat- 

 ter with lassoin' them bloomin' Da- 

 goes, chuckin' him a lot o' the barbed 

 wire from the trocha. He give a 

 whoop as you could hear in Kalama- 

 zoo, coils the wire, and sails in. In 

 five minutes every cow-boy in sight 

 has a barbed-wire lasso, and was rop- 

 in' in Spaniards like he was roundin' 

 up a bunch o' cattle out on the range." 



"Strange that none of the newspaper 

 correspondents described that," ob- 

 served the horticultural graduate, sus- 

 piciously. 



"The trouble with them newspaper 

 chaps is as they tells so many things 

 as ain't so. and let's a lot 

 o' the real facts get away," 

 observed Jaggs, solemnly, as he 

 drew the cartridges from the 

 boss's revolver with elaborate caution. 

 "Now, then, Jimmy, if you wants to 

 know somethink o' the real horrors 

 o' war, just throw them cartridges into 

 the firebox while you're stokin'," as 

 the fireman, in his anxiety to hear the 

 narrative, swept the cartridges and a 

 few other trifles off the bench with the 

 end of his poker. 



"How did you come to leave the ser- 

 vice so soon?" asked the graduate. 

 "By unanimous request, I suppose. I 

 wonder you didn't join some command 

 going to Manila, you know so much 

 about Borneo that you'd be a real ac- 

 quisition." 



"Borneo ain't all beer and skittles," 

 observed Tommy, pensively^ as he 

 filled a disreputable pipe with Davy's 

 tobacco. "I was there afore I chuck- 

 ed the harmy; when we wasn't 

 chivying Dacoits we was fillin' our- 

 selves with quinine. But it's jam, 

 reg'lar apricot jam. to them Sulu Isl- 

 ands, as they're goin' to gather In 

 along o' the Philippines. However, 

 since Uncle Sam's tryin' to make a 

 souvenir collection o' job-lot islands, 

 why, let 'em all come." 



"The islands ain't so bad, what there 

 is of 'em," observed Jaggs, squinting 

 down the detached barrel of the re- 

 volver to see whether it was clean 

 enough. "I run across a pitcher plant 

 when I was collectin' there, a giant 

 form of Nepenthes bicalcarata — as 

 would make a sensation, if I hadn't 



