58 A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. 



CHAPTEE IV. 



MR. GRUNDY. 



I REMEMBER that, when we first formed our floral 

 brotherhood, I introduced the name of Joseph 

 Grundy with some anxiety, lest it should not be 

 welcomed as I wished. I was afraid that his 

 occasional wanderings from the garden in the direc- 

 tion of the stable-yard, the sudden transfer of his 

 attentions from his horse-radish to his horse, and 

 again from his cob to his cobnuts, might disqualify 

 him from becoming a member of our little guild of 

 gardeners. These noses, I reasoned, accustomed as 

 they are to orange-blossoms, will inevitably turn up 

 at the mere notion of a groom with straw at his boots. 

 But those noses did nothing of the kind. My nomi- 

 nation was received with hearty approval. "If he 

 is not too much engaged," said Mr. Oldacre, with a 

 quaint gravity, "in hybridising, or in his 'Botanical 

 History of the World,' let us have him by all means. 

 Seriously, I am glad to second this candidate. While 

 we teach him something about gardening, we cannot 

 fail to profit in turn from the presence among us of 

 an industrious, a happy, and a righteous man." 



To these commendatory epithets, I would append 

 the adjective cheery, as characteristic of one who is 

 not only happy himself, but communicative of happi- 

 ness to others. I never meet that Fourteen Stone of 

 healthfulness, crowned with its rosy smiling face, as 

 bright as a good conscience and brown soap can make 



