1S73] AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A GARDENER. 19 



whicli presents itself to my mind's ej^e just now — viz., the venerable form of the 

 village teacher, my tutor, the great writing-master of the district, whose cali- 

 graphy was executed with mathematical correctness, whose hair-strokes were 

 scarcely perceptible to the naked eye, and whose swellings of the other portions 

 of the letters were so artistically wrought that they appeared faultless in pro- 

 portion if not graceful in outline, whose flourishes were of that copperplate 

 character which amazed the wondering tyro, and impressed him with reverence. 

 "We may smile at all this ; and yet we must bear in mind that although we have 

 gained much of late years by the introduction of physics and chemistry, conies 

 and analysis, German and Hindostanee, into our educational establishments, our 

 youth have lost much of the freedom and boldness of writing which characterised 

 the generation I am now speaking of, and which is essential, let me add, to every 

 would-be gardener. A plain legible handwriting is one of the first points to be 

 aimed at by him who would be the skilled designer of a landscape, or the nomen- 

 clator of a fruitery, or the indicator of botanical knowledge. Despise not little 

 things ; they make up the substance of life — they are the components of our every- 

 day being. 



A necessary companion of my worthy pedagogue was a tree of small proportions, 

 but pliant in the hand, and which had the facility, moreover, when skilfully used, 

 of producing a smart without fear of thereby causing its own destruction. It 

 would bend without breaking. Those of my young friends who may read this, 

 may naturally like to study the botanical characteristics of this little off'set of 

 nature, which is popularly called the "ground ash. " Although tliis then con- 

 sidered indispensable instrument m the formation of character, and in imparting 

 the rudiments of education, is now very properly considered a brutal remnant of 

 bygone ages, 1 cannot but feel that there was a discipline in the "good old times " 

 of which I speak (whether attributable to Solomon's sage maxim of not sparing the 

 rod or not, I will not presume to say) that is lamentably deficient now. I am afraid 

 that apprentices nowadays would be inclined to rebel against the fancied hard- 

 ships I endured then ; and certainly the tender mother and over-anxious father 

 Avould not now subject their beloved off'spring to the now would-be regarded 

 cruelty I then experienced : yet I know not how it is, but we seem to have been a 

 more hardy race then — our powers of endurance seem to have been greater, our 

 enjoyments more natural, our pleasures more hearty. 



The special object I have proposed to mj'^self in this paper, however, is not so 

 much to indulge in reflections upon the past, or in comparing the things which 

 have been with those that are, or with those that may be, as to indicate what I 

 believe should form the curriculum of studies of him who is to be a practical 

 gardener— to show how his spare time may be most profitably and pleasurably 

 employed in contradistinction to what we fear it now too frequently is — to point 

 out the evils consequent upon the self-estimated importance of the present young 

 man— to direct him to what should be the ultimate and legitimate end of his 

 ambition, and to refer to some means by which he may attain that end— to lead 

 him to look beyond the limited circle of the present to the termination of the 

 vista of his human career — and to direct him how to gather, as he goes, flowers to 

 brighten his path, fragrance to cheer him on his journey, and fruits to stimulate 

 him in the pursuit of his laudable determination. 



To pursue my history, I left school with a fair smattering of useful knowledge. 

 I could read well; indeed it was said of me that I could "read like a parson.'' 

 In reflecting upon this sage and discriminating remark now, I cannot feel 

 sure whether it could^ have been intended as a compliment or expressed as a 

 sarcasm. I could write legibly (which, by the by, is more than I can do now). I 



