A GARDENER'S GOSSIPING REMINISCENCES OF 

 CHRISTMAS. 



r U 1 sad heart tliat 

 never rejoices. 

 More tlian sad 

 must the Iieart 

 be tliat does not 

 ^i__ feel a joyous 

 s^^K liettering inflii- 

 . '"^^ ence amid tlie 

 ^ • social charities 

 and benevo- 

 lenees ol Clinstmas If tliere lias been 

 anything m the way of a tiff, a standing 

 aloof, a reserve, and a coldness among 

 friends and ncighliours, who are each 

 ' " ' ■ ■ keeping loftily apart, until they notice 



the first advances in kindly feeling, what better opportunity 

 for burying in deserved oblivion everything connected with 

 the unpleasantness of the past, and thinking only of the de- 

 lightulness of the present, than meeting together on tlie 

 birtlulay. of Him, whose ad\ent, whilst Time shall endure, 

 will ever lie associated with all that is best calculated to 

 promote " Peace on earth and good will to man." 



E.-ccept amongst the most ascetic religionists, who look 

 upon the mortifying of the body as one of the best means for 

 securing spiritual merit, this great festival, annd all its 

 solcnm associations, has ever been attended with the symbols 

 of outward rejoicing. Feasting and gladness, if kc|)t in 

 their right place, are some of the best ways for expressing 

 our thankfulness. The speaking of kind words, the doing of 

 kind deeds, the thankfully partaking of tlie good things pro- 

 vided, the assisting of otiiers less favourably circumstanced 

 than ourselves, have ever been considered some of the best 

 practical proofs we could give of a heartfelt gratitude. 

 Hence the great interest with which Christmas is regarded ; 

 hence the preparations for its festivities ; hence the reciprocal 

 invitations of friends and neighbours j and hence the zest 

 with which members of the same family, though scattered far 

 apart during the rest of the year, contemplate meeting again 

 around tlie same table, and to express their mutual love and 

 symjjathy. 



Amid these stin'ing times, when so many young men, and 

 young women too, must go from the home of their fathers, to 

 find and to keep for themselves a sphere of action and of 



lionouraljlc labour, there are now fewer, and there will still be 

 fewer, of these happy family reunions. In such circum- 

 stances, the recollection of past scenes will often do much to 

 nerve to manly resolution and energetic etrorts, .amid the 

 longings, the wants, and the felt loneliness of the present. 

 But for such rccoUcetioiis and associations, my first Christ- 

 mas from home would have been sad and dreary. 



A short time before, I had gone as one of the under g.ar- 

 dcncrs to a pl.ace, where some half a dozen of us lived in a 

 bothy or barrack, formed out of tlie back sheds to a range of 

 forcing houses. This bothy had little more in the way of 

 fitting up, than so many beds against the south wall, a table 

 .along part of the north wall, between two windows, that 

 admitted, .and especially in winter, only a dim light i'rom the 

 width of a four-feet pathw.iy, the other side of the pathway 

 being bounded by a wall supporting a bank of evergreens, 

 higher than the roof of the living rooms ; and between the 

 fireplace and tlie first bed was room for a small table for 

 eatables, and some four-footed stools to place round it. 

 Fortunately there was a doorw.ay in each end of this room, 

 opening up into other sheds, with stock holes and their 

 general accompaniments, amongst which were some rough 

 cupboards, in which we could keep any private stores in the 

 w.ay of eatables, the bulk of our meals being supplied from a 

 stock common to all. I say the door at each end was a for- 

 tunate thing ; not so much for any of those cunning devices 

 which it might suit some of our young friends to practice, but 

 simply because a good draught of air could thus pass through 

 the room in summer without let or hindrance by us, for the 

 windows did not look as if they had been ojicned for a gene- 

 ration. In fact, in those days, though vastly more particular 

 than is general now in giving fresh air to plants, 1 and my 

 comrades thought little— it would bo truer to say nothing at 

 all— of the importance of fresh air for ourselves. Between the 

 foot of the beds and the table .against the front wall was 

 room enough for a passage, and a trunk or two at the end of 

 each bed, and that was pretty well as much property room as 

 any of us required. 



The place altogether would have stood a good chance for 

 being condemned by the easiest-going Board of Health of the 

 present day, but it was a paradise for comfort when com- 

 pared with other places appropriated to young gardeners in 

 Scotland and England, some of which I had then seen, 

 and others I afterwards became acquainted with ; and some 

 few of them, I have reason to believe, now remain in their 

 original hideousness, soon, I hope, to be enmlled amongst 

 the curiosities of the past. From that shcil-room men of 

 great activity and intelligence had been scattered over dif- 



