MARCH 



1.S9S. 



The Weekly Florists^ Review* 



573 



The WreatJ. 

 SIMPLE FLORAL ARRANGEMENTS. 



No. 5. 



the garden when lads with no ambi- 

 tion to learn but for subsistence, but 

 through years of experience have so 

 acquired knowledge that at potting, 

 shifting, planting, tying and other 

 work can give points to the young gar- 

 dener who is going from place to place 

 to improve himself. The so-called 

 journeyman gardener seldom gets a 

 •chance to have a varied experience; he 

 is put at one job and usually it is a 

 long one. However they are there to 

 work, as well as learn, so they must 

 Dot complain. 



I did not mean to infer that all the 

 lads of the neighboring village who 

 entered the garden developed into 

 skilled gardeners, not by any means; 

 no more than all the workmen we 

 have in our greenhouses will become 

 successful florists even if there were 

 room for all. The large majority will 

 remain merely florists' workmen. They 

 do not spend their leisure hours or 

 even a part of them in reading florists' 

 journals or any other literature. Their 

 time is spent during the day. mechan- 

 ically, with their hands, while their 

 minds are on their last game of pedro, 

 pool, or their last baby. Their eve- 

 nings are their own. Would that they 

 would use them in gaining 

 some kind of useful knowl- 

 edge. Luck enters but little 

 into our prosperity or misfortune. We 

 get our deserts just about as we de- 

 serve, and if you don't put something 

 into your heads by reading and obser- 

 vation, when you have occasion to tap 

 your brains there will be a dry buyg 

 hole from which nothing but wind will 

 escape. One more word: I often hear 

 such remarks as this: "There is so and 

 so; he never studied much and he 

 tDade lots of money." Very likely that's 

 the case in thousands of instances; 



great selfishness. A mind unhampered 

 with any thought but the acquisition 

 of wealth, and alas in many cases im- 

 position and even fraud, has led to 

 many fortunes. An empty mind may 

 envy them. A broad-minded man of 

 education is contented with his lot. 

 even be it humble. His own medita- 

 tions are a greater solace than all the 

 luxuries that gold can buy. 



There were several old chaps, steady 

 hands in this garden, with whom I 

 would much enjoy a chat, but they 

 have long ago passed to that garden 

 where you don't have to lug the hose 

 from one side of the house to the other, 

 where the several systems of heating 

 are not under discussion and the drum- 

 mer in his official capacity is silent. 

 There was old Tommy F. who was al- 

 lowed to have very much his own way 

 in the several acres of the kitchen gar- 

 den, who banked up the seakale, built 

 his melon beds, picked his brussels 

 sprouts and dug his fertile acres, often 

 with a tall silk hat of ancient make. 

 That would seem funny to our young 

 folks but it's no unusual sight, espe- 

 cially in Ireland, to see a cottager till- 

 ing his garden patch wearing coarse 

 homespun breeches and vest but topped 

 off with an old beaver or silk headgear. 

 It was usually "the hat my father 

 wore" and sadly needed blocking but 

 perfectly becoming. This good old 

 worthy vegetable gardener was a pious 

 man with a strictly religious wife. It 

 seemed to me that with a certain class, 

 the established Church, the Episcopal, 

 must have been at that time unpopu- 

 lar. If there was a lively religious 

 feeling entered any of their breasts 

 the old church did not afford them 

 scope for emotional display and zeal 

 in the cause. The Wesleyan Metho- 

 dists had a good many active converts; 



then there were the Primitive Metho- 

 dists or ranters who had a small meet- 

 ing house, I suppose, but whose most 

 fervent revivals were held in houses of 

 the members on Sunday afternoons. 

 At the most distant entrance to the 

 park, at a humble lodge gate, dwelt 

 one of those enthusiasts. He spent the 

 week working in the woods but Sunday 

 he was the center of the circle. It 

 must have been very small, for the 

 largest room in the house was not over 

 Gx9. On a fine summer's Sunday after- 

 noon you could hear, at more than a 

 mile distant, his fervid prayer and the 

 prolonged Amen of his friends. Let 

 us hope that the efficacy of the prayer 

 was in proportion to the volume of 

 sound. 



Then there was old Billy B.. who 

 lived on the island and who was hair- 

 less, having absolutely lost that orna- 

 ment in middle life by typhoid fever. 

 What a handy old man he was with 

 scythe or shears or edging iron. So 

 far as theology went Billy had no very 

 determined views, being guided by his 

 spouse, who. like many another 

 woman, did the thinking for the fami- 

 ly. She was a large, broad woman of 

 what you may call a full habit, but 

 with very pronounced convictions of 

 what was proper. I never had the 

 pleasure of seeing her in church, but I 

 will wager she was a pillar. The fol- 

 lowing incident will show her great 

 discernment between your duty in this 

 world and a leaning to its frivolities; 

 A club gave an evening with the "Mag- 

 ic lantern" with harmless views. On 

 being asked next day if she attended, 

 she replied; "No, the magic lantern 

 may be all very well, but I don't think 

 it's essential for the salvation of the 

 soul." How we have degenerated this 

 past forty years. 



Old George P was a gardener 



through and through and many are the 

 pointers he gave to young gardeners 

 who have since become known to the 

 horticultural world. He could bud and 

 graft, put the finest finish on a grade, 

 lay a line with the nicest curve, and 

 do anything else in the garden where 

 skill of hand was essential. He could 

 also brew some excellent ale and was 

 never backward when it was passed 

 round. No one is more remembered 

 from boyhood days than this same 

 handy man. He came of a long lived 

 family and a few years before we emi- 

 grated we saw four generations of this 

 race walking up the road together. He 

 had a brother who was coachman to 

 a neighboring "Sir" and who, I believe, 

 hastened his end by injudicious feed- 

 ing. Feeling poorly, the doctor asked 

 him what he had for breakfast: "beer 

 and beef;" what for dinner, "beef and 

 beer;" what for supper, "beer and 

 beef." The doctor prescribed a change 

 of diet, but he soon lapsed back into 

 his steady mode of living and passed 

 away with a very red face. 



There was one character on this es- 

 tate who was perfectly unique. It was 

 James Quinn. I mention his name in 

 full for it is recorded in the annals of 

 crime of London. Poor Quinn, as his 



