OB, HOW I BECAME A FLORIST. 47 



glowing with color, and asters as thick as herd's grass, 

 waved in the breeze like a field of wheat. "Well, I don't 

 wonder he can cut ten dollars a day from such a garden. 

 Oh, I wish I was not so mercenary ! Thinking of money 

 as soon as I enter a garden like this. 



Seeing a man at work we approached him, and found 

 him busily at work making a row of small holes in the 

 earth. " For what purpose do you design those holes ? " I 

 ventured to ask. 



" Plunging, ma'am." 



Not being much the wiser for this, I was about to ques- 

 tion him further, but he appeared to be so uncommunicative, 

 that I merely said : 



" Where is Mr. McTernan ?" 



"Yonder, in the shed. Walk right in the door ye see 

 standing open next the greenus." 



Sending the children to search out new wonders among 

 the flowers, I entered the door as directed. 



The sight that met my view was not a pleasant one at 

 first, and I am afraid I showed my disappointment in my 

 face. There stood my honest acquaintance before a rude 

 bench, on which was a huge pile of dirt. He was roughly- 

 dressed, with his sleeves rolled up, and eagerly plunging his 

 bare hands and arms through and through the heap of 

 loam before him. 



" Good-afternoon, ma'am. Clean dirt, marm," then a 

 dig at the pile. " Just in time, ma'am," another plunge. 



