190 THE FLORIST. 



Roses, magnificent White Lilies, and the common cottage garden- 

 flowers, make a showy border. But the Miller prides himself most 

 on his beds of White Rockets ; and I believe several London florists 

 are supplied from this secluded spot with these sweet old-fashioned 

 flowers. Looking up the stream, there are various small islands and 

 peninsulas overgrown with reeds, marsh-flowers, and old willows; 

 and in the distance the soft, rounded range of chalk hills, partially 

 clothed with luxuriant wood, complete the landscape. Here, through 

 the goodnature of the owner, is the favourite resort of the mammas 

 and nursemaids of respectable families in the neighbourhood ; and 

 nothing can surpass the pleasure of the young urchins when the 

 moor-hen or wild duck, with her tiny brood, sails out from the edge 

 of the rushes, or the swan, accustomed to be fed, 



" with arched neck 

 Between her white wings mantling, proudly rows 

 H er state with oary feet " 

 At this present time the female bird is attended by a family of nine 

 cygnets ; and as she comes out with them on the smooth surface of 

 the water, she reminds one of a certain graceful Duchess with her 

 train of lovely daughters moving over the lawn at the Regent's Park 

 or Chiswick fetes. 



The recollections of my infancy lead me always to associate mills 

 with flower-gardens, and many sweet spots could I name: English 

 florists must have heard of George Garratt of Codicote, Herts, in 

 whose garden, gently sloping towards the south to his mill-head, and 

 sheltered from the north by a fine larch plantation, Auriculas, Pan- 

 sies, Pinks, Picotees, and Carnations may be seen in unrivalled excel- 

 lence, testifying to his skill in growing these well-known flowers. But 

 in rural and picturesque beauty, all must yield to the old mill which 

 adorns this Number of The Florist, with its mossy roofs and lichen- 

 covered walls, its masses of rude rock-work, and its well-stocked bee- 

 house, built quite in character with the scene. The inside of the 

 house is as curious as its exterior : old carved oak furniture, dainty 

 pieces of antique china in corner cupboards, a few nice cases of stuffed 

 birds, venerable old high-backed chairs, and a deep chimney-corner, 

 are real specimens of the olden time. But to enter fully into the har- 

 mony of the piece, you must see the Miller himself, — a most rotund 

 little man, his pepper-and-salt coat nicely softened in tone by the 

 floury particles of his mill, his clear ruddy complexion, the merry 

 twinkle of his eye, his shrill chirruping voice, and his easy unem- 

 barrassed manner in the presence of rich or poor : he is a favourite 

 with all the fine ladies near, for he is a bit of a gossip, and, at the 

 proper season, calls with nice little glasses of pure virgin honey, 

 taken from the tops of his hives, which serve to sweeten his visits ; 

 and I must not omit to add, he is very kind to his poorer neighbours. 

 But, alas, I fear our little rural mills are doomed to fall before the 

 huge square slated buildings with their tall blackened chimneys, and 

 with them the old race of millers will also soon become extinct — our 

 friend is a confirmed, and I fear irreclaimable, old bachelor. 



June \Zth. A Sedentary Man. 



