MEMOIR. xxiii 



We who have watched his progress have noticed of late 

 a considerable development in his literary power, a more 

 marked individuality of style, a swifter and smoother 

 movement, a richer vocabulary, and new skill in the pre- 

 sentation of his ideas. He was exceedingly happy in his 

 illustrations of a principle, and his figures were always 

 interesting, never hackneyed. A certain " bonhomie " in 

 his way of putting things won willing hearers for his 

 words, which seemed to come to meet us with a smile 

 and open, outstretched hands, as the dear speaker himself 

 was wont to do. Something of course of the living 

 qualities of speech are lost when we can receive it only 

 from the cold black and white of print, instead of winged 

 and full of human music from the man's own lips. Yet, 

 in spite of this, unless I am mistaken, readers of this book 

 will not fail to find in it a good deal to justify my judg- 

 ment. 



It seems to have taken some of his friends by surprise 

 that John Sedding should write on Gardens. They knew 

 him the master of many crafts, but did not count Garden- 

 craft among them. As a matter of fact, it was a love that 

 appeared late in life, though all along it must have been 

 within the man, for the instant he had a garden of his 

 own the passion appeared full grown. Every evening 

 between five and six, save when his work called him to 

 distant parts, you might have seen him step quickly out 

 of the train at the little station of West Wickham, run 

 across the bridge, and greeting and greeted by everybody, 

 swing along the shady road leading to his house. In his 

 house, first he kissed his wife and children, and then sup- 

 posing there was light and the weather fine, his coat was 

 off and he fell to work at once with spade or trowel 

 in his garden, absorbed in his plants and flowers, and 

 the pleasant crowding thoughts that plants and flowers 

 bring. 



