January 6, 1&7J. ] 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 



WEEKLY CALENDAR. 



L1BRAR 



NEW VOl 

 . I 

 QAKUBI 



NEW YEARS GIFTS, ET CETERA. 



|2gjJP§? EW YEAR'S morning, seven o'clock— no \ 

 " more sleep, but a half- awake semi-dream 

 condition for one happy half-hour, before the 

 dreadful getting-up to that cold white world. 

 I am iu thought or dream, you ma}' please 

 yourself as to which, good reader. I am in ! 

 London, and it is New Year's morning. I am 

 up, and walking City-wards. It is early for 

 London ; the first omnibuses are coming from 

 their stables, how hollow the long empty things j 

 sound as they bump over the crossing or round a corner, 

 and the cad at the end is bounded up in the air, and looks 

 so unlike what he will two hours hence ; he looks now a ' 

 melancholy man, perhaps because his mind is as yet un- 

 relieved of "chaff." On the box sits the equally melan- 

 choly-looking driver ; he as yet has no word for his friend 

 behind. I pass cab-stands, the horses with their heads 

 drooping low, and the men dismal-looldng enough. On j 

 further, I notice people are yawning while they remove the 

 shutters at the smaller shops. I see fat slip-shod servant 

 girls (how unlike country girls !), who are pretending to tidy \ 

 the doorsteps, but in reality looking for the postman. I 

 walk on, and reach at length — yes, there it is — Temple Bar, 

 and think how the rebels' grinning heads once stood on the 

 top, after what Scotchmen call the 45. " Happy New Year i 

 to yer ! " cries one newspaper boy to another. That's the I 

 first cheerful sound I have heard. Why, what's that over ; 

 171, Fleet Street? A long board, with on it, "Office of 

 Journal of Horticulture :" so it is the very plac6 I am | 

 seeking, for I know it well, and through the high-front 

 window to tall people, like myself, gleam bright pictures 

 of many flowers. Yes, my old friend, " our Journal," holds 

 his or her head-quarters here — his or her, for the floral 

 porcupine hath many female quills. I enter, " A happy 

 New Year," I say with a nod and a smile to two or three ' 

 well-known faces in the office on my right, and which 

 faces nod and smile, and wish me " A happy New Year " 

 in return. Then up the dark staircase, and a turn to the 

 right, and I stand before the door of the Editors' room. 

 " Come in," I hear in wonderfully silver-sounding tones. 

 " Umph,'' think I, " tiiat Editor has got a new voice with 

 the New Year. I wonder which it is." When lo ! on 

 opening the door, I see sitting at the senior Editor's desk, 

 I knew her at once, a benignant-looking and beautiful 

 fairy, clad in a glittering silver robe, with a silver wand 

 in her right hand. She motioned me with the silver wand 

 to the fire on her right, and I take my place beside her. 

 On the desk at which the fairy sits are heaps upon heaps 

 of letters, for every writer had sent a letter this New Year's 

 morning ; these she did not open, but upon touching each 

 with her silver wand a tiny form of the writer appeared 

 before her. There they were, all the members of the staff, 

 gardeners and garden lovers, great botanists, deep-scienced 

 ones, plump pomologists, poultry and pigeon fanciers, 

 prizetakers and those who had not taken prizes (very red 

 in the face these last looked I, bee-keepers, contributors of 

 all sorts and ranks, young and old, bald and grey, bearded 

 No. 45S.-V0L. WILL, New Series. 



and non-bearded, all fashions of clothing, but the good 

 blue apron of the gardener upon very many ; while the 

 lady writers, who huddled together and stood in one corner 

 of the large desk-table, had even more varied clothing still, 

 very many had on those most desirable of all dresses, short 

 walking dresses, and not a few those equally sensible 

 things, waterproof cloaks and stout walking boots : and 

 cheeks that told of health resulting from out-door exercise. 

 I looked carefully at the fair group of little ladies, and 

 although there were fair-haired, and dark-haired, and 

 brown-haired, and — as fair as any hair — the silver-grey, 

 yet I did not see, I give my word for it, one " girl of 

 the period ;" they all had far too sensible faces for that 

 nonsense. One lady, it is true, had a very large chignon, 

 which the fairy just touched lightly with her silver wand, 

 and with a good-natured smile said, "Very like a Cab- 

 bage, dear ; I suppose you are a great kitchen gardener.' 

 When the silver wand had touched every letter, and all 

 the tiny forms stood in close array, " My friends,' said the 

 fairy, " I am the benignant spirit that presides over ' our 

 Journal,' I watch its course, I see what pleasure it gives ; 

 did it dwell upon hard worldly topics I should not heed 

 it, but I see it makes good people better, kind people 

 kinder, and happy people happier; I see that it carries 

 in thought the invalid to his garden, and the citizen to the 

 country home of his childhood. I love flowers, and fronds 

 and green leaves, I love the feathered and furry pets, I 

 love to hear the bee humming her drowsy lullaby, while 

 I, taking a tiny form, all unseen, couch upon an opening 

 Rose. I am your friend. I am here to wish you all well 

 this New Year's Day. See, my dress is silver, its light 

 colour suits me (here she glanced at the ladies), and I am 

 here also to present you with New Year's gifts, as tokens 

 of my regard." Here she gave tiny silver flowers to each 

 flower-lover, to each the flower he or she loved best, or 

 had been most successful with, to others a Fern, to others 

 little silver models of the bird they loved most, and a silver 

 bee to others. 



Then, looking grave, she said, " My name among fairies 

 is Silverine the Courteous. I, your presiding genius, am 

 ever courteous, so also be ye ; do not any of you at any 

 time write as if no one ought to dare to advocate an opinion 

 antagonistic to your own. Remember each one has an equal 

 right with you "to his own fancy, his own theory, his own 

 argument. Remember Silverine the Courteous ; and now a 

 happy New Year to you." 



" Well said," I exclaimed from the fireplace, quite for- 

 getting myself, but at the sound of my earthly voice the 

 fairy was gone at once. I looked to desk-table for the 

 large group of little folks, they were all gone ; and while I 

 was scarce recovered from my wonder, I heard the steps 

 of two in the room, and a voice by no means fairy-like, but 

 very hearty and cheery, and deep-chested, saying, while 

 grasping my hand warmly, "A happy New Year to you.' 

 The other Editor was close behind, and he, too, was hearty 

 and cheery. Then the elder said, " There, it is Saturday, 

 and I know you are going home for to-morrow's duty ; now 

 sit down on Monday in that snug study of yours in your 

 pretty rectory, and write us a New Year's piece, you have 

 No. 1110,-VoL. XLIIL. Old Series. 



