150 A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. 



and tastefully arranged ; and, had I power and per- 

 mission, nothing would please me more than to act as 

 a sort of horticultural Mr. Cook, of unbounded hene- 

 volence and wealth, to superintend gratuitous excur- 

 sions of the floral fraternity to Belvoir, Cliveden, 

 Wardie Lodge, and elsewhere, from the middle of 

 March to the end of April. Our vernal flowers have 

 gone gradually, but in many cases entirely, from our 

 gardens. His reverence told us, a few Sundays ago, 

 that people nowadays were quite as fond of telling and 

 hearing new things as ever they were at Athens when 

 St. Paul was there ; and this love of novelty and dis- 

 play has been at work in our guild, and induced us to 

 despise and discard the fair and faithful favourites of 

 the past. 



Two of the songs with which our old friend Mr. 

 Grundy has occasionally entertained us always remind 

 me of our disgraceful and perfidious misconduct, as 

 gardeners, with reference to hardy flowers. In his 

 " Labourer's Song," one rustic complains to an- 

 other, 



" Folks thinks still 

 Nowt's good now as used to was, 

 My owd friend Bill." 



And there has been a sad season, not long past, in 

 horticulture, in which few cared for that which all 

 could have, and all things old were vile. In another 

 melody he tells us how the proud ploughboy, on his 

 promotion, cruelly cuts his former friends : 



" And little Nell, I loved so well, 

 And walked so wi' o' Sundajs, 



